by Sherrel Lee
8
I would have given my first performance in a porn film if I’d had someone in my sights I could beat to hell and back. In the parking lot Jillie’s -- my --car had Bitch emblazoned in paint across the hood. The two driver side tires shredded. Not a soul in the lot. Not the ghost of a car visible other than the staff’s that were there when I arrived. I called the dealer to have the hood repaired. They would send a team to change the tires, and drive the car in. They offered to provide a loaner. I refused. I had plenty of other transportation at the house.
Since DeMarco had called and told me he was headed in my direction, I called him back and filled him in on what had happened. He arrived before the tow.
“I don’t know who did this, but it must be someone I’m acquainted with. I haven’t been in town long enough to piss anyone else off.”
“I’ll have Braden write up a report. He’ll enjoy doing you the favor. Any chance you caught something on the security camera?”
“No, I seem to have parked in a blind spot, Butch already checked and there is nothing to indicate who might have been around to do this. I don’t need a report on this. I’ll take care of it myself. I don’t need Braden to like me any better than he already does.”
DeMarco choked back a laugh. “You make friends easily I see. All that honey that drips off you. You sure you don’t want to report the damage to the car?”
I let out a snort, my version of a derisive laugh. DeMarco wasn’t half as inhuman as I wanted him to be. I didn’t want to like him but--- Hell I couldn’t think about that now. “Car isn’t that bad and I’d rather not have a bunch of cops chasing shadows over this one. Figure he was sending me a personal message.”“Your call,” DeMarco shrugged as the tow truck arrived for my car.
“Poppy,” I called as we entered the bungalow, “make sure you’re decent when you come out. Detective Demarco’s with me.”
“You could call me Michael,” he said, walking over to the bar rail between the kitchen and the rest of the front room. “Smells great. Your friend a professional cook?”
That comment called for a snicker since Pop had tried cooking school and hated it, but the laugh wasn’t forthcoming. “No, she’s a civilian auditor for the Army.” Poppy knew I hadn’t eaten and had prepared one of my favorite dishes for the late dinner.
“How’d the two of you hook up?”
“Met her in Dallas when I was a kid. She’s a couple years older, decided to protect my ass when I left home. When I turned seventeen she talked me into joining the Army with her.”
DeMarco wasn’t listening. Instead, his eyes were wide open, hazy with lust and disbelief. I didn’t have to turn around. I knew who he was looking at. I had seen that same goofy look on others, many times and only once been jealous. This time.
Poppy. Have I mentioned she is drop dead gorgeous? Straight black hair gleaming like onyx surrounds her Latin beauty face. In picture-perfect proportion she has the perfect nose, full lips that invented the pout, and emerald green eyes. She has it all and always has this effect on even the most levelheaded men.
“DeMarco, Detective, correct?” Poppy put the headlights on high with her smile, a sure sign I was going to see a lot more of Michael DeMarco than I could ever want.
He cleared his throat, probably praying he wouldn’t sound like a braying ass in heat when he finally worked up the courage to speak.
“Yes, Nice to see you again, Poppy.”
Again? Maybe I misjudged the look. He wasn’t drooling.
“I wondered if you were Ashley’s DeMarco. We’re old friends,” Poppy said, not offering any further explanation she cut off any chance I had at digging into the past. “I only heard one car drive into the auto park.” Poppy looked at me, waiting for an explanation.
“Had a little trouble with the car. DeMarco offered me a ride.” But not the ride I would have considered the most fun if I decided I was interested. I admit I was hoping DeMarco wasn’t gonna turn out to be an ass. Poppy would reveal all when I got her alone and twisted her arm.
“While I was at the club someone made a bit of a mess, writing on it and it would have been difficult to drive home on the tires,” DeMarco said. “When Ashley invited me in I thought I would take the opportunity to get a better take on how her mind works. We really haven’t talked about our impressions of the murder and the suspects, However she’s pretty certain none of her friends are capable of such violence.”
“I don’t have a clue who did it, or why and I thought I have been pretty clear about what I think.”
A flash of concern on Poppy’s face reminded me of other times I had been targeted by some creep. They never ended well.
“Did anyone go in or out of the club while you were there?” Michael asked.
“I really don’t know. I didn’t notice anyone. I had the night staff in the office for a while. The only others there were a couple of dancers I haven’t met and some of the regulars who seem to live there. It was too early to draw in much of a crowd.”
“I brought the books home if you want to go through them after dinner,” Poppy said changing the subject.
“We can do that after DeMarco leaves,” I told her and turned to Michael. “I need to be brought up to speed on the finances since I’m the new owner.”
“Dinner isn’t quite ready,” she told us before he could ask any questions.
DeMarco ignored her, his eyes narrowing as he rubbed the back of his neck. “ I hadn’t heard you are the new VixSin owner. Any other surprises?”
”Can we talk about that later? I promise I’ll fill you in on everything.”
He nodded, but I knew he wouldn’t let me wait too long to spill the story, maybe he was just being nice because of Poppy.
“Then maybe we should get these pictures out of the way,” Demarco drew an envelope from his jacket pocket. “Pop, this might be a little rough. I--”
“That’s okay, Mike, Ash told me what you were bringing, I have a strong stomach. So Jillie was branded?”
“Yes, and it looks like flower petals to our tech. I can’t really make much out of it. Even though she was unconscious, she may have moved when he did it because it’s only a partial and not very distinctive.”
I took the photos and did a quick run through them, looking for the best view.
The tech that had identified the burn as a petal had better eyes than I did. All I could see were some crescents side by side. They could have been moons or anything else.
“Sorry, I don’t know what this is,” I said after several passes through the shots. I handed the photos to Poppy so she could get a better look.
“You think it’s a flower?” Poppy rolled her eyes toward DeMarco. “I don’t see anything to makes me think of a flower. The head of a spear? Maybe a plant like aloe. Could be a knife, but not a flower.” She handed the pictures back to DeMarco.
“Yea, I don’t see it either, but he’s pretty sure. Maybe it just doesn’t come across here without his equipment to study it.”
The buzzer for the front gate sounded. I switched on the camera and found Dylan staring back at me, a grim smile on his face. I pushed a button and could see one side of the gate silently swing open. A minute later we could hear the thunk of a door closing and footsteps coming down the walkway.
He didn’t come in immediately. We could see him through the French doors, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, looking at the main house. You could almost hear the wheels turning as he searched the path, past the pool house, down into the garden. DeMarco started out the door, but I stopped him.
“Leave him alone, DeMarco. He’ll come in when he’s ready. Always likes to get a personal look around.”
“He’s your friend. What did you say he does?”
“Top honcho in the Crime Investigation Command. That’s big time in the Army. If he decides you’re friendly, you might learn something from him.”
DeMarco’s lids slid down leaving just a slit of eye exposed. I had insulted him. There were times
my brain didn’t control my mouth and trash leaked out.
“Okay, you two ignore Dylan until he’s ready to join the living. Set the table, Ash.” Poppy dropped pasta into a pot of boiling water. “Hope you are hungry.”
Poppy was placing the bread on the table when Dylan decided to join us. He dropped his bag and grabbed me, pulling me into his arms, an intimacy that made me feel awkward. Dylan didn’t mean it in a man-woman kind of way. He’d learned my views on that the hard way when I punched him in the jaw the first time he’d given me a hug.
“Ash, I’m sorry about your friend. We need to figure out who she pissed off so we can get the fucker and put him away.”
I pushed away from his grasp. “You’ve been here all of ten minutes and figure you know why Jillie was killed? Who made you the all-seeing wise ass?” I admit I wasn’t happy he thought he could just walk in and take over, even if he was head honcho on the base.
Poppy put food on the plates, making a show of ignoring us. DeMarco briskly rubbed his hands together, as if to warm them and then reached out to give Dylan a welcome. A weak attempt to distract us from flaring tempers and irritating conversation.
Dylan ignored him. “I talked to Poppy before I left base. I’ve had the entire trip to think about this. Jillie called you over a week ago upset. Whoever upset her was someone she knew well enough to have that effect. You aren’t looking for some stranger, or a casual acquaintance. Whoever killed her was close enough to cause her doubt in them or in herself.”
* * * *
It had been hard to argue with Dylan’s logic once I got past his superior attitude. He and DeMarco spent dinner trying to outdo each other tossing around theories as though they knew something Poppy and I didn’t. I decided to ignore them and enjoy the meal but I admit I was impressed with DeMarco’s insights. No one in the world cooks better than Poppy and her chicken enchilada pasta was something one wouldn’t find on any restaurant menu.
The cottage was beginning to feel crowded. I needed to get away and think. While the men bonded over an after-dinner drink, I took a walk and thought about Jillie’s call, begging me to come to Plano. She wouldn’t tell me what she really wanted, hedged and hesitated when I pressed for more information. Dylan was right, she knew something disturbing and wasn’t ready to admit it. So, what would make Jillie wary about talking over the phone? Did Trixie know something? She had avoided my eyes on our visit and hadn’t said two words at Severenson’s. Not unusual porn mother wasn’t talking. I needed to get in her face and have a daughter-to-bimbo talk.
Demarco followed me outside, reminding me I had some explanations to make about the legacy Jillie had left me. I gave him a brief overview of the extent of her estate, and what had been left to the others. He was as surprised, as I had been, that Kevin wasn’t included, but I was sure that wouldn’t stop him from taking a harder look at him-and the rest of the beneficiaries. I had to admit, I was beginning to admire the way he worked and the way he looked. That wasn’t a good thing in my books. Attraction’s fine and can be fun, but anything deeper was pure trouble.
9
The next morning, Poppy poured a cup of coffee and stared at the computer screen going over more of the financials from the club. Dylan strolled in from the garage apartment, looking for breakfast. I didn’t offer to cook. Neither did Poppy. Good thing he was a seasoned bachelor and could take care of himself.
My cell phone played a few bars of the Star Spangled Banner. “Ashley, have you seen Randi? She didn’t come home last night.” Butch’s voice cracked as he spoke.
“Not since I left the club last night.” Damn, had she run off because of what I’d said to her, or was it something else. I didn’t want to think it might be related to Jillie’s death. I hated the suspicion—Randi was a friend—but I just couldn’t ignore the timing.
“Something’s happened. I know it.”
“Settle down, Butch. Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“We had a fight. After you left. She’s been doing things. We’d been through this before. She knew better...”
“So, you fought. Maybe she just went to a girlfriend’s for the night.”
He wasn’t buying it. I could hear him struggling for breath.
“She... We... I called. Everywhere. Even Trixie. No one...no one’s seen her.”
“Calm down. You’re going to make yourself sick. I’ll make a few calls; see what I can find out. What kind of car was she in?”
“That’s just it. She wasn’t driving. I had the truck.”
“Okay, so she was on foot or got a ride from someone. I’ll be over as soon as I can get there. In the meantime, think about who she might have gone with.”
Dylan, overhearing my side of the conversation, offered to help. I asked him to go to the club and get the security tapes from the parking lot. Go through them. Let me know what he saw. He’d met Randi several times before so I didn’t have to waste time giving him a description.
Poppy offered to call the staff who had worked last night. Make sure Butch hadn’t missed someone. See if she could put any names to the customers, another avenue to explore.
I called DeMarco on my drive to their apartment. “Randi’s off the grid. I’m on my way to Butch and Randi’s apartment and I sent Dylan to get the VixSin security tapes.”
“It might be just a pissed off lover telling her friends to lie about where she is. Not uncommon so let’s not jump to conclusions.”
I couldn’t get Jillie out of my head. He thought I was overreacting, I hoped he was right.
“Do you want me to meet you there? We can make this a formal missing person if you want.”
“No, I’ll let you know what I find out after I have a face to face with Butch.
There were half a dozen people in the apartment when I arrived. Kitty, and others from the club. A couple of out of work actors who had been hanging around Trixie’s. A few others I didn’t know, maybe neighbors. Some were on their cell phones, making calls to friends of Randi. I was surprised with so little evidence anything was wrong, so many people would bother to offer support. It told me Randi didn’t normally just disappear on a whim.
I snagged Butch and took him into a quiet corner. “You really believe something’s happened to her.”
“Yeah. I do. She doesn’t walk out. Maybe a stroll around the building to cool off, but we never leave a fight unfinished.”
“Have you tried calling her cell phone?”
“Of course,” he snapped. “You think I’m stupid? Problem is one of the dancers answered right before you got here. She left her bag, with her phone in it, in the dressing room.”
Not a good sign. Where does a woman go without her purse? Her credit cards? Her phone? Even if she was angry, ran out with someone, she should have slipped back to get those things by now. “You look around the place last night? Ask the customers if anyone saw her?”
“I didn’t know she was gone until close. Figured she was just lying low in the back with the girls. No one said anything about her not being in the dressing room.” Butch’s light complexion began to redden. Anger, blood pressure, fighting tears, it all showed on his face.
“And you didn’t go to check on her?”
“I didn’t want to make things worse. It was hard, you talking about maybe closing the club, your friend looking at the books. Randi...she...”
“I know what she was doing.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his hand across the shiny dome of his head. “Jillie knew. She and Randi go way back and Jillie knew sometimes Randi would get carried away buying stuff. At home and at Vix. Occasionally she couldn’t cover the personal payments. A couple of months ago she ’borrowed’ some money from the safe. She planned to put it back.”
“And you fought about this?” Embarrassment deepened the red in his face.
“We’d been fighting about it. She’s trying to stop, even got signed up for a support group, but after you were talking about deserving a job...she just went off. Blaming me, li
ke I’d gone and told you.”
“Then she storms out of the building?”
“Yes, and I went into the supply room, stocking the shelves, working out the anger.”
I could see it clearly inside my head. Temper flaring. Picking up crates. Muscles flexing. Shoving bottles and cans on the shelves. Breaking down boxes. Cooling off as he worked hard.
Butch and Randi had been together almost as long as I’d been out of Trixie’s house. If he said this wasn’t a typical reaction to a fight, I had to believe him. We went through the names of friends they had. He named customers who had been going to the bar for years. Kitty had brought the booking journal, listing the names and number of expected guests, to the three bachelor onslaughts the previous evening.
I got the name of the support group Randi joined to help her stop her spending sprees. Got to love psychology. They’ve got a group for just about every problem man, or woman, can imagine.
Poppy was my go-to girl for group invasions. She could convince you she had any flaw that existed on earth, and get an invitation to join quicker than I could call and get the lowdown on what the group was supposed to cure. I sent her over to see if she could find someone who had grown close to Randi, and might be hiding her from big, bad Butch. Expectations low on resolving the mystery so easily.
Dylan checked in. He’d reviewed the tapes. Randi had stormed out of the club about nine, early for many people to be around. A guy in a baseball hat and windbreaker stopped and talked to her but then went into the club. No one else approached in view of the camera and Randi just walk out of the lot and disappeared as she strolled in front of the building next door to VixSin.
The cell chimed out Stars and Stripes. DeMarco. My stomach clenched then rolled. I didn’t know how, or why, but I knew this was going to be bad news.