Gone Missing: A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 2

by R. Lanier Clemons

  Larry and the other prop guy rushed off the stage. Only Elissa and Jonelle remained. Jonelle raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s the other thing,” Elissa said. “When we all sat around in the Circle, Sherman said he was getting odd vibes from LucieBlu. She admitted she was under a lot of stress and was getting sick and tired of losing out to women who, as she put it, couldn’t act their way out of a paper bag.”

  “Did she threaten you?”

  “Not me, personally,” Elissa said. “Everyone in the Circle received the full force of her anger. She didn’t single out any particular person.”

  “I’m gonna need the names of everyone who attended the meeting.”

  “You better talk to Sherman,” Elissa muttered.

  “Do you think Sherman would know if LucieBlu threatened anybody in particular?”

  Elissa shrugged. She looked as if she’d swallowed something that left a bad taste in her mouth.

  Until this point, Jonelle had assumed LucieBlu was a benign victim of transgender discrimination. Now she wasn’t so sure. From what she’d learned from the theater crew, there was a possibility that LucieBlu may have initiated her own disappearance.

  CHAPTER 8

  As Jonelle pondered other questions to ask Elissa about LucieBlu’s threat, a voice boomed from the back of the theater.

  “Set’s coming along great.”

  A man resembling a rotund Woody Allen charged down the aisle toward the stage. The grin stayed on his face as he noticed Jonelle.

  “Sorry,” he said, lifting his shoulders in apology, “auditions for ‘Little Shop’ are over. However, if you wanna stop by the office, I can give you a list of everything we’re offering this season.”

  “I’m not here to audition, but if you’re the director, I would like to stop by your office. I’d like to ask you a few questions about LucieBlu Bonderant.”

  The smile faded from the man’s face. He looked from Jonelle over to Elissa.

  “Sherman,” Elissa said, pointing to Jonelle, “this is Ms. Sweet. She’s investigating LucieBlu’s disappearance.”

  Sherman Isaacson frowned. “What do you mean, ‘disappearance’? She was just here the other day.” He sighed. “Better follow me to my office.”

  After a quick thanks to Elissa for all her help, Jonelle trailed Sherman down the aisle to the lobby. He proceeded along a narrow hallway between the box office and the main theater. One closed door was positioned flush against both sides of the corridor. Sherman opened the door on the left. Jonelle relaxed when she saw two large windows streaming in plenty of light through the cluttered office.

  “’Scuse the mess,” he said, grabbing an arm full of papers off of a chair. With a nod of his head, he motioned for Jonelle to sit. He stacked the papers on top of another pile on the floor and lumbered around the desk. Even with both windows opened a crack to let warm air in, a stale odor filled the room. Jonelle attributed the smell not only to the sheer volume of papers strewn about the office, but also to the multitude of books taking up most of the remaining space. “Now, what were you saying about LB?” He plopped down in the chair.

  “LB?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I called her. She didn’t mind.”

  “Anyone else call her ‘LB?’”

  “Naw. I got nicknames for everybody. She called me Big Sherm,” he said with a smile.

  “Would you say the two of you were close friends?”

  He shrugged. “We didn’t hang out together, but we had an easy relationship.”

  Jonelle searched through her bag and pulled out a business card. She handed it to him. “One of LucieBlu’s friends has declared her missing and hired me—that is, the agency I work for—to find out what happened.”

  He squinted at the card, opened an orange plastic box situated in the middle of his desk and slipped it inside. He sat back in his chair and put his feet on top of a mound of papers, stacked high on one side.

  Jonelle told him what Elissa had disclosed about LucieBlu.

  “I’m still at a loss as to why she was never chosen for the lead,” Jonelle said. “From what I understand she was very good at both acting and singing.”

  Sherman opened a desk drawer and took out a cigar. He put it in his mouth.

  Jonelle leaned back.

  “Don’t worry, not gonna light it. Smoking’s not allowed in here.” He removed his feet from the papers and considered Jonelle.

  He chewed on the cigar a while.

  “Now, how can I put this.” He stared up at the ceiling. “See, everyone here knew LB was transgender. I had no problem with it. The stagehands and technicians had no problem with it. But, reality is what it is. We have a hard enough time making ends meet around here. Some members of the Board of Directors don’t want the theater to get a reputation for hiring trans people in starring roles. They’re afraid we’d be identified for that kinda thing and all of a sudden transgenders would start to overrun our acting pool.” Sherman lowered his eyes and frowned. “Honestly? I thought it was all crap, but the board helps keep us afloat. While I could never give her a starring role, I made sure she was always a member of the cast.”

  Jonelle shook her head. Poor LucieBlu. “I assume she knew the situation. Why did she keep trying out for the lead?”

  A sad smile crossed Sherman’s face. “Never asked. I guess she kept hoping one day we’d get over our prejudices and see the light.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  Sherman stared up at the ceiling. “Guess it musta been after the final audition, at the meeting.” He paused.

  “Elissa told me about your Spirit Circle.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “She did?”

  “She also said you sensed LucieBlu wasn’t happy. She was giving off bad vibes or something.” Jonelle couldn’t hide the skepticism from her voice.

  “You sound like you’re not a true believer.”

  Jonelle shrugged.

  “Ah, well. To each his own. Yep, during the circle LB said enough was enough. She really wanted the part and said that since we chose someone else, she wouldn’t take this rejection lying down. She kept shouting about it not being fair, she was the best talent we had, yada, yada. Thing is, I sensed it wasn’t just talk. She really meant it this time.”

  “Did she say what she was going to do about it?”

  Sherman frowned. “Tell you the truth, I felt she was in turmoil and was a little worried for the cast. Not that LB ever did anything to anyone before. But this time was different. There was a sense of… resolve in her voice. The more she talked, the more the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.”

  “Tell me about the audition.”

  Sherman toyed with the orange box. “She did great. I told her we’d be in touch, yada, yada. The usual verbiage that she knew meant, ‘thanks but no thanks.’” The director leaned back in his chair, hands laced behind his head. “She had this strange smile on her face and left. The next day I offered her a singing role and she repeated that we’d regret not giving her the lead. Weird thing was, she accused Peter of sabotage. He’s the male lead we’d already cast. After shouting it was all his fault, she stormed out of the Circle.”

  Jonelle let that sink in a moment. “What about her relationship with the woman who got the part she wanted?”

  Sherman hesitated. It looked to Jonelle as if he was weighing how much he should tell her. “I never saw anything myself that would indicate LB had problems with anybody other than Peter.”

  Jonelle noticed the implications of what he actually saw versus what he might have heard, but she let that pass.

  “Elissa said Peter didn’t attend Circle meetings.”

  “True, he wasn’t a believer. I know for a fact that he would sometimes question the others about what went on in the group, especially the women. He was quite popular with the ladies.”

  “Speaking of which, I heard he and LucieBlu dated sometimes. What do you know about that?”

  Sherman worked the cigar
in his mouth for several seconds before replying. “I heard the rumors. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “Did he usually date the women in the cast?”

  Sherman snorted. “Oh, yeah. I had more women coming to me crying. With this job, you’ve gotta be part social worker, part therapist, part boss and part soul mate. The girls would tell me he’d first approach them, all nice and sweet, acting like a real gentleman. Then, the minute they’d want to get a little closer, he’d pull back and give them the cold shoulder. They never understood why.”

  Jonelle pondered that a moment. “What do you think? You must have some idea, especially since you witnessed everyone’s interactions on a regular basis.”

  Sherman swiveled in his chair and gazed out the window. Jonelle waited for him to continue.

  He turned back around and fixed gray eyes on her. “Honestly? I thought it was Peter being so focused on acting he simply didn’t want to get too involved with anyone.”

  Sherman looked down at his desk, picked up a few papers then set them to one side.

  Jonelle made a mental note to make sure and press Peter about how he treated LucieBlu away from the theater. A list of everyone connected with the playhouse was looking more and more important to the case. If LucieBlu admired Sherman, he may know more about her than what he observed at work. “Suppose LucieBlu needed to go somewhere, to get away for a while, do you have any idea where she’d go?”

  For the first time since she walked in his office, Sherman looked troubled. “I’ve no idea. I suppose the friend who hired you is that mousy looking woman that I’d see her with sometimes. Forgot her name. She had sort of a ‘neither here nor there’ kind of effect on people. If she has no idea where LB is, can’t imagine anybody here knowing.” Sherman worked the cigar again. He took it out of his mouth, looked at it with disgust and threw it in the trashcan.

  “You know,” he said, tapping a chubby finger on his chin, “I got a really bad feeling last Sunday evening. Wife and I were eating dinner in front of the TV, per usual. As you can see,” he added, patting his stomach, “I like my food. Everything was fine. I went to bed around midnight but woke up about two. As soon as I woke,” he snapped his fingers, “poof! I got nauseous; throat got tight; could hardly breathe. Scared the wife half to death. Poor thing thought I was having a heart attack and wanted to call the paramedics. I lay down for a bit, and a few minutes later, I felt fine. At the time, I just shrugged it off as an extreme case of indigestion.” He peered at Jonelle. “When did LB go missing?”

  Jonelle shuddered. All this heeby-jeeby stuff creeped her out. “Not exactly sure,” she said, using her most professional voice. “It could’ve been Sunday. That’s what I’m trying to find out. I need to talk to as many people as I can, who may have come in contact with her.”

  Jonelle asked for a list of all the cast members and crew on this and any other recent production that involved LucieBlu. Sherman reached in another drawer and gave her four sheets of paper, stapled together.

  “Each page represents a different production. We put on two shows a year. As you’ll discover, LB had a part in all of them. As did Peter.”

  Jonelle nodded. “In addition to telling them why I need information about LucieBlu, is it okay if I mention you and I talked?” she asked taking the papers from his hand.

  “Be my guest. Hope you find out what happened to her. I really do.”

  Jonelle scanned the list. “I think I’ll start with Peter Dell.” She stood to go.

  Sherman reached over and shook her hand. “He’s a real decent guy. Bit intense at times though, but most serious actors are. Of all the actors I’ve met recently, Peter’s the one I’d pick to go places.”

  Jonelle smiled. “Thanks for all your help, Sherman. When I find out what happened to LucieBlu, I’ll be sure and let you know.”

  Back inside her Jeep, Jonelle sat for a while and contemplated what Sherman said. Jonelle had chosen a professional life where facts and evidence meant everything and psychic visions and auras and things that went bump in the night, didn’t mean anything. A sense of foreboding gnawed at her. Jonelle knew someone of this world had made LucieBlu disappear.

  CHAPTER 9

  Rush hour traffic clogged the roads as Jonelle returned to the covered lot across from Marcella’s building. On that first visit, she’d noticed several spots reserved for members of the firm where LucieBlu and Marcella worked. As luck would have it, there were two public spaces available opposite the reserved area. Jonelle pulled into one of the positions and waited. At four thirty-five, Marcella appeared. She headed to an area one row down from Jonelle’s Jeep. Once seated behind the wheel of a white Toyota, Marcella backed out so quickly, she almost hit a car coming behind her.

  “Jesus,” Jonelle muttered. She threw her Jeep in gear and barely had time to pay the attendant before Marcella turned onto the street.

  Jonelle didn’t have to worry about whether or not Marcella saw her. The woman seemed hell bent on getting somewhere fast. Only one car separated them. The white Toyota engaged its right blinker and took the next exit. Jonelle did the same.

  Several miles later, industrial buildings gave way to boarded up tenements and rundown row houses. The area surprised Jonelle. Was this where Marcella lived?

  Marcella had a good job and could afford to live in a better location. Jonelle locked all the doors and continued following the car.

  After three miles spent worrying about the unfamiliar area she found herself in, Jonelle tailed Marcella into the parking lot of a one-story, wooden structure. A mural depicting motorcyclists riding into the sunset was painted on a panel above the door of the building. “Mike’s Tavern” in neon red letters on the large plate glass window, announced the name of the establishment.

  “Great,” Jonelle muttered to herself. “Just freakin’ great.”

  As soon as Marcella parked her car, she jumped out and hurried into the building.

  Jonelle sat in her Jeep and checked out the surroundings. Only a little past five and the lot was nearly full. She counted seven motorcycles clustered next to the entrance. For the first time since joining her uncle’s agency, Jonelle felt uncomfortable. As more people arrived, she knew she’d stick out like a salad bar in a donut shop if she went inside. And not because of her height. Nor her weight. Not many black people frequented biker bars unless they specifically catered to African Americans. This bar wasn’t one of those.

  While still trying to figure out what to do, a car honked behind her. Jonelle moved on and aimed her vehicle toward the end of the first row of cars. She came to a decision. Jonelle pulled around to the last line of spaces opposite the entrance, found a spot and parked facing out. No sense in going inside. Not only would Marcella notice her, so would everybody else. She could police the entrance from the comfort of her own vehicle.

  Jonelle slid down in her seat and took out the stapled sheets Sherman handed her at the theater. She took a yellow highlighter from her purse, and noted the number of times Peter Dell’s name appeared. LucieBlu appeared in the cast as well. Jonelle kept glancing up, hoping to catch Marcella coming out.

  She’d only made it through the second page when movement at the front of the bar caught her eye. Marcella and a black leather-wearing man with a full beard strode toward Marcella’s car. The man kept turning and jabbing his finger in Marcella’s face. Marcella continued waving her arms at him. Using the digital camera she kept in the glove compartment, Jonelle snapped several photos of the couple. A few moments later he turned on his heel and trudged back to the bar. Marcella stared at his retreating back. It looked to Jonelle as if Marcella hoped he would return. When he didn’t, Marcella slouched over to her car and pulled out. Jonelle put the camera away and started her Jeep.

  Several minutes and exits later, vacant lots and rundown buildings gave way to trees, lawns and small, single family homes. After another mile or so, Marcella pulled in front of a high rise apartment building, parked and got out, head down.

  Jonel
le positioned her Jeep a few places down. “Excuse me,” she called out. “Marcella?”

  Marcella turned. Her eyes widened when she saw Jonelle.

  Jonelle noted the surprised look on Marcella’s face. “Sorry to come unannounced, but you and I need to talk for a few minutes.” It wasn’t a request; it was a statement of fact.

  “Um, um. Okay, okay,” Marcella muttered. She led Jonelle across the apartment lobby and to a bank of elevators. Once inside, the two women rode up to the fourth floor in silence. After the elevator doors opened, Marcella turned right and went down a long hallway, the threadbare carpet barely muffling their footsteps. About halfway down, she stopped and inserted her key to apartment 424 and stepped aside for Jonelle to enter.

  Jonelle didn’t know what to expect of Marcella’s living conditions but she was somewhat surprised to find the place devoid of clutter.

  “It isn’t much,” Marcella said as she noticed Jonelle looking around, “but I’m comfortable.”

  The living room encompassed a burgundy velour sofa situated against the wall on the left. Two large throw pillows done up in large pink and red polka dots hugged each armrest. Behind the sofa on the wall were four prints. Each framed design depicted pale pink ballet shoes, in various poses.

  “Do you dance?” Jonelle asked, pointing to one of the photographs.

  “Nope,” Marcella replied. “I bought those ‘cause I liked the way they looked.”

  A rectangular blond, wooden coffee table occupied the space between the sofa and medium sized flat screen television mounted on the wall. Next to that, also made of pale wood, was a maze-like bookcase. From what Jonelle could tell, an equal amount of both hard covered and paper-back books occupied the flowing shelves. She walked over and glanced at the titles. Most were romance novels with a few adventure type non-fiction titles thrown in.

  Opposite the entrance, sliding glass doors opened onto a small balcony. Jonelle peered outside. A round, white plastic table and two plastic chairs were the only items out there.