The Case of the Missing Drag Queen

by Michael Rupured

  The cruising reached a fever pitch. Drunken grins were exchanged at the bar, and horny guys circled the dance floor like lions in search of an antelope to separate from the herd. Emboldened by alcohol and the late hour, friends who’d arrive at the Garden together parted ways to join the hunt.

  The intro to Donna Summer’s “Last Dance” signaled the beginning of the end. Desperation replaced anxiety. Arguments broke out over who Luke should serve next. The search for Mr. Right or Mr. Right-for-Tonight was abandoned for Mr. Will-do-in-a-Pinch.

  Luke continued serving customers after the song ended and the house lights came on. He didn’t want to piss anybody off and didn’t know what else to do. He looked up and saw Frank coming toward him.

  “That’s it, guys,” Frank said. “Bar’s closed.”

  “Aw, man. Come on. I’ve been waiting since before the lights came on.”

  “Sorry.” Frank herded the stragglers toward the stairs. “Don’t want to lose my liquor license.”

  Luke wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and then shot water into a cup of ice. He chugged one and was working on another when Frank returned.

  “Thanks again for coming in tonight. Don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “Glad I could help,” Luke said. He wiped the back of his neck with a cocktail napkin. “Quite a workout. Hope I did okay.”

  “Okay?” Frank smiled. “You did great. Tell you what. Deal with the money and I’ll get one of the bar backs to break down your station.”

  “Thanks.”

  After Frank disappeared into his office, Luke turned around to the cash register. The frantic pace had been a welcome distraction from the looming confrontation with Charlie. Luke’s hands trembled as he counted the drawer. Getting his ass kicked again held no appeal.

  Luke tipped out the bar backs and then knocked on Frank’s door to drop off the bank and deposit. Frank took the bags from him and tossed them onto his desk. “Any news about Ruby?”

  “Nothing solid,” Luke replied.

  “The reward has grown to three thousand dollars.” Frank shook his head. “Can’t believe no one has come forward. We’re never going to find her.”

  “She’ll turn up,” Luke said. “And until then, we’ll keep looking for her.”

  As a forlorn Frank headed to his desk, Luke resisted the urge to spill his guts. He’d know if Charlie was responsible for Ruby’s disappearance soon enough. Until then, better to say nothing.

  He’d hoped to find Pixie waiting for him downstairs, but she was nowhere to be seen. Calling her at this hour would be fine if she lived alone, but she didn’t, and Luke didn’t want to wake Mr. Johnson. Leaving the Garden alone with nearly three hundred dollars in his pocket added to his anxiety about confronting Charlie Ross. He saw Russel Clark standing outside the Gilded Lily and stopped.

  “Thought you only worked when the show room was open,” Luke said.

  “Who said I was working?” Russel grinned. “Waiting for Annie to get off. Need something?”

  “Could you walk me to my car? It’s not far….”

  “Come on,” Russel replied, heading for the exit. “She won’t be done for another fifteen or twenty minutes, and I ain’t got nothing else to do. What you doing here tonight anyway?”

  Luke fell in beside him and gestured toward Bertha. “Filled in for Charlie in the Green Carnation. He’s sick.”

  Russel snorted. “In the head.”

  They walked in silence for a moment. Russel had gone to school with Charlie and was very protective of Ruby. Luke stopped and looked up at him.

  “Pixie and I think he kidnapped Ruby.” Russel’s eyes grew wide as Luke told him about the prowler, the missing suitcase, the slashed tires, and the threat to forget about Ruby.

  “Wouldn’t put it past him.” He shook his head. “Got any proof?”

  “No.” Luke shook his head. “I’m going by his place to see what he’s up to. He was fine around six when me and Pixie dropped in on him—rushed us off to get ready for work.”

  “You going now? By yourself?”

  Luke nodded.

  Russel stroked his chin and muttered to himself as they walked. “Wait until tomorrow, and I’ll go with you.”

  “Got a feeling that might be too late,” Luke said. “Any advice?”

  “Don’t go.” He studied Luke’s face a moment then shook his head. “Confront him head-on and he’ll back down.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “Ain’t always about size,” Russel said. “Be aggressive. When he gets mad, throw the first punch. Hit him as hard as you can—before he can hit you.” He draped his enormous arm around Luke’s shoulders and gave him an encouraging hug. “Then run like hell.”

  Chapter 31

  Tuesday, November 2, 1982

  THE CLOSER Luke got to Merrick Place, the more his apprehension grew. Although Bertha was practically the only car on the road, the trip took forever. Traffic signals, bobbing and swaying in the wind, turned red as Luke approached, and with every stop, he questioned what he was doing.

  Beyond any doubt Charlie Ross was their guy. The arrangement with Tippy had enabled him to live beyond his means. Blaming Ruby for ending the ride was easier than admitting he’d fucked up by infecting Tippy and half of Lexington with crabs. To exact revenge he’d kidnapped Ruby and returned a few days later to steal her suitcase full of money.

  The man was clearly deranged. He’d assaulted, robbed, and threatened Luke, and had likely been responsible for the slashed tires. Maybe Luke should wait until morning when Russel could come along. Ruby had been gone eleven days. What was a few more hours?

  He shook his head. Before he and Pixie had dropped by unannounced, two or three hours may not have made much difference. Their surprise visit, however, had spooked Charlie and prompted him to act. He was running scared. Luke shuddered. No telling what he might do.

  Until Ruby’s body turned up, Luke had to believe she was still alive. Charlie was keeping her somewhere—most likely his apartment. Although his was an end unit and he only had neighbors on one side, he’d still have to keep Ruby quiet.

  Chills ran down his spine. Charlie scared the hell out of Luke. He wanted to go home, but the thought of Ruby bound and gagged somewhere in Charlie’s apartment kept him from returning to the Sinclair Arms.

  He needed a plan. Pounding on Charlie’s door at three in the morning invited a thorough ass-kicking—or worse. A less confrontational approach might disarm him, and certainly offered a better chance for Luke to escape unharmed. He stopped at SuperAmerica and bought Pepto-Bismol, Imodium, a couple of cans of soup, Saltine crackers, and a two-liter Sprite for Charlie along with a six-pack of white-powdered mini-donuts and a bottle of Ale-8-One for himself.

  He started the car, took a big swig from the condensation-covered bottle, and belched. His father had been addicted to the citrusy ginger drink and had often taken Luke along on trips to the bottling plant in Winchester to stock up. Riding in the front seat had been as much a treat as the time alone with his father. Years later, he’d been surprised to find that, rather than hours as he’d imagined, driving to Winchester took less than forty minutes.

  The memory calmed his nerves. He took another big swig, tucked the bottle between his legs, and after ripping open the donuts and stuffing one in his mouth, hit the road again.

  Even with a care package in hand, waking Charlie in the middle of the night was a bad idea. If his car was in the parking lot, Luke would go home and return in the morning with Russel. If Charlie’s car wasn’t there, he’d head home as well since knocking on his door would be pointless.

  Luke crammed the last two donuts into his mouth. The plan restored his confidence. No need to stop—just drive by to see if the white BMW was there. Unless he ran into Charlie in the parking lot, there would be no confrontation.

  He chased the donuts with the rest of his Ale-8-One and tossed the empties on the floor behind him. As he neared
Merrick Place, the catchy Madonna tune came on the radio. Luke danced in his seat as he hummed the verses and belted out the chorus at the top of his lungs.

  His nerves returned when he turned onto Merrick Drive. When the road that wound its way around the sprawling complex narrowed, Luke let up off the gas and stepped on the button for the high beams. Wind howled through the trees, sending leaves and litter scuttling across the road. A opossum caught in the headlights feasting on smashed pumpkin glared with shining green eyes before lumbering away.

  Luke slowed to a crawl as he neared Charlie’s apartment. The white BMW was nowhere to be seen. In the space where it had been parked on his earlier visit was a Ryder truck.

  “Crap!”

  The rental truck confirmed Luke’s hunch that Charlie was up to something but left him without a plan. He continued slowly past the parking lot and around a curve to the front of Charlie’s apartment. His stomach lurched when he saw the lights were on.

  He crept slowly past Charlie’s apartment. Miniblinds prevented him from seeing inside, but the lights appeared to be on in every room. He wiped his sweaty palms across his thighs and continued along Merrick Drive. Cars parked on both sides of the narrow road prevented him from turning Bertha around. He’d circle back and return to Charlie’s place the way he had come.

  The circuitous route gave him time to think. Even with the care package, showing up in the middle of the night would arouse suspicion. At least with the lights on, he shouldn’t have to wake him.

  He parked beside the yellow rental truck, grabbed the SuperAmerica bag from the seat, and got out of the car. He hesitated for a moment. Getting the tire iron from the trunk would make him feel safer but brandishing a weapon was inconsistent with his checking-on-a-sick-friend ruse.

  Waving branches cast shifting shadows on the sidewalk. He was making a huge mistake. The closer he got to Charlie’s apartment, the more certain he was, but turning back wasn’t an option. Charlie was up to something. What, Luke didn’t know, but he was about to find out.

  He reached the door and stopped. Every nerve was on edge. Several deep breaths did little to calm him. He reached out with a trembling finger and pushed the doorbell.

  Chapter 32

  LUKE HEARD the doorbell chime inside the apartment. Footsteps descended stairs and came toward him. His heart raced, and he feared he might toss his donuts. Charlie opened the door in gym shorts and a sweaty T-shirt. Perspiration dripped down his neck and tendrils of hair stuck to his glowing forehead.

  He scowled. “What do you want?”

  Luke gulped, and then held out the sack. “Thought you might need this.”

  Charlie eyed him suspiciously. He looked in the bag and appeared to be confused by the contents.

  “Frank said you haven’t been able to keep anything down.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Charlie said, nodding. “Crazy sick, man.” He stood in the doorway holding the storm door open and looked at Luke with distrust. “You drove here in the middle of the night to check on me?”

  “Yeah.” Luke shrugged. “Living alone is no fun when you’re sick. I was going to leave it by your door, but when I saw the lights were on….”

  “Thanks, man.” He glanced back over his shoulder then back to Luke.

  “You’re welcome.” Luke looked past Charlie and saw the entryway and living room were in disarray with boxes piled everywhere. “Are you moving?”

  Charlie blanched. “Um. Yeah, man.”

  “Need some help?” Luke spotted a Domino’s pizza box on the floor with a couple of slices and several discarded crusts. “Sucks to move by yourself—especially when you’re sick.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’m feeling a lot better.”

  “You sure?” Luke looked him in the eye. “I don’t mind.” In truth, he’d rather have a root canal with no anesthetic, but Charlie wasn’t about to let him in and offering to help went with the caring friend ruse. “I owe you one for taking me home the other night.”

  Charlie held up the SuperAmerica bag. “I’d say this makes us even.”

  Luke shifted from one foot to the other. Although moving in the middle of the night was highly suspicious, it proved nothing. He needed to get inside for a look around. Leaving wasn’t an option. Before he could get back with reinforcements, Charlie would be long gone, and with him, any chance of finding Ruby Dubonnet.

  “I love your body,” Luke said. He looked Charlie up and down. “Not just the muscles, but all that fur, and—”

  “That’s what this is about?” Charlie shook his head. “I should have known. You just want my big dick.”

  Luke nodded at his vain and gullible adversary and fought the urge to gag.

  “Sorry, bud. Not tonight. I’ve got too much to do.” He took a step back. “And if I had time, it would cost you a C-note.”

  Charlie’s position shift enabled Luke to see more of the living room. His heart jumped into his throat when he spotted Ruby’s ribbon-festooned suitcase next to a stack of boxes.

  “I’ve got the money.” He patted the wad of bills in his pocket and took a step forward. “Sure you don’t have time?”

  Charlie hesitated. Luke stepped forward, and when Charlie didn’t move, took another step and placed his hands on Charlie’s sweaty chest. “I’ve fantasized about this moment since I started working at the Gilded Lily.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Luke slid his hands over Charlie’s pecs and leaned in close enough to smell the pepperoni on his breath.

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move.

  “Hard as a rock.” Luke moaned. Then he kneed Charlie in the groin. Soup cans, Sprite, and Pepto-Bismol rolled across the floor as Charlie doubled over and sank to his knees. Luke clinched his hands together and karate chopped Charlie in the neck hard enough to send him to the floor.

  “Even better than my fantasies,” Luke said. He stepped over Charlie’s moaning form to look around the living room when thumping from overhead stopped him in his tracks. He heard the noise again, darted up the stairs to investigate, and traced the sound to a closet with a chair jammed under the doorknob which he kicked away.

  A thin, balding and bearded middle-aged man tied up on the floor with a gag in his mouth squinted at Luke. He took a step closer and saw he wore only boxer shorts and a ribbed tank-style undershirt.

  “Ruby?”

  The man nodded and grunted several times.

  “I’m Luke Tanner.” He took another step. “Friend of Pixie Wilder’s.”

  More nodding and grunting.

  Luke took another step and stopped. Ruby’s eyes grew wide, and she shook her head.

  He dropped to one knee. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you.”

  Her eyes widened still more. She shook her head and drew back from him.

  Luke leaned forward to remove her gag but was grabbed by the waistband and flung into a wall. He groaned, rolled onto his back, and saw Charlie coming for him, glaring and red-faced with nostrils flaring. Anger radiated from him like heat from a blast furnace as he reached down, grabbed Luke by the collar, and tossed him into the hall.

  Luke shook his head a few times, got up on his hands and knees, and crawled toward the stairs. Before he could grab the banister to pull himself up, Charlie placed a foot in the small of his back and launched him head over heels down the stairs and onto the entryway floor.

  As Charlie rushed down the steps, Luke pushed himself up and lunged for the front door. He grabbed the knob and when the door opened, yelled at the top of his lungs.

  “Help!”

  Charlie grabbed him by the collar and flung him into the living room. Luke grunted, rolled over, and scooted backward as fast as he could as Charlie moved slowly toward him, grinning and twisting his fist into his palm.

  Luke stumbled over a box as he backpedaled farther into the living room.

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a sneer. “Should have listened when I told you to forget about Ruby Dubon
net.”

  A wall stopped Luke’s backward progress. He glanced around and saw no place to run and nothing he might use to defend himself. He wrapped his arms around his head and curled into a ball.

  Charlie flipped Luke onto his back, yanked his arms away from his head, and, after straddling his chest, pinned them to the floor with his knees.

  Luke closed his eyes and willed himself not to cry. He flinched when Charlie slapped his face.

  “Look at me, bitch. I want to see the fear in your eyes.”

  Anger replaced fear. Luke glared at him. “Fuck you.”

  Charlie’s nostrils flared, and his face went crimson. He leaned forward until their noses were inches apart. “Ready to die, asshole?”

  Luke might end up in the hospital but death was unlikely. He spat in Charlie’s face.

  Charlie reared back in disgust and wiped his cheek with his shirt. Then he gave Luke a menacing glare and grinded his fist into his palm. “This is going to be fun.”

  Chapter 33

  DETERMINED TO show no fear, Luke glowered at Charlie. His biceps screamed with pain as Charlie shifted his weight onto his knees and drew back his fist.

  “Stop!”

  “Pixie?” Relief washed over Luke.

  Charlie jerked his head around as she dove for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and knocking him off balance and off Luke. Free of the oppressive weight on his arms, Luke pushed himself up to help her.

  She dropped onto Charlie’s chest and pummeled his face with her fists. “That’s for what ya done to Ruby,” Pixie said, striking Charlie’s nose with a solid jab. She hit him again. “And that’s for comin’ after Luke.”