by Seth Pevey
He was certain that the place never closed. It was one of the largest and most popular nudie bars in a long strip of them, and it kept tourists entertained at all hours of the day and night. He’d even spent some time in there himself in his slightly younger days. But that was before he realized the utter, abysmal depression that such places would stir in him. The smell the women sprayed on their skin, to cover up the touch of so many men. The reek of their drooled-upon bodies. The desperation and gin heavy on them. Something reminiscent of the airport in these places—hard used and impersonal. And then, the disdain Felix would begin to feel for both himself and the women, coming together in such an artificial way out of sheer...what? Loneliness didn’t quite sum it up. And it certainly wasn’t about pure lust. There was something else, something nasty at the root of such places. Nasty, but inescapably human.
So, it wasn’t a pleasant series of experiences that Felix recalled to mind as he walked through the plastic flaps that kept the air conditioned air inside the velvety show room.
There had been some redecoration done: new fiber-optic lights added and a carpet that looked like it might belong in a casino. Felix was glad that there was no sense of familiarity to the place. He awkwardly milled by the bar for a second, feeling suddenly sheepish.
Remembering the proper decorum, and thinking that damsel saving would require a lot more courage than he was currently displaying, Felix picked a direction towards the stage and walked deeper into the grotto. A few paces in and Felix found himself facing a young woman whose smile didn’t seem completely devoid of sincerity.
She looked tired but warm, like a campfire the next morning. Her mascara had formed a blurry cloud around her eyes, which held a false glimmer in the dim light. He stared into those eyes of perfect blue, wondering if they were real. If the eyes were fake, Felix mused, her hair was likely fake as well. Hair so red and curly and perfect had to be made of nylon and kept on a styrofoam head in her off hours, a precious piece of accoutrement for her trade. She was beautiful though, there was no denying that. Her skin was pale and pure, and it wasn’t the type of beauty that seemed to belong on the B team of a Bourbon street club. But here she was.
Practicing proper strip-club decorum, he ordered a beer from her and waited until she came back with it and sat down next to him. The woman grinding the pole on stage reminded him of his geometry teacher from high school, and so he did his best to awkwardly avoid looking her.
He sipped the beer and asked if the pale beauty would sit with him, pulled a deep breath into himself and mentally prepared. If he acted natural and played his cards right, maybe he could pick up the scent of the lost Korean girl right here and now. Life or death, sink or swim. He was beginning to relish these moments.
“What is your name?” he asked her, not entirely sure he really wanted to know.
“Tipitina,” she said.
That made Felix smile. He knew the old song well. “No it ain’t,” he teased, “nobody is called Tipitina except in old Professor Longhair records.”
She smiled and batted her fake lashes at him. “Stick around and maybe I’ll tell you my real one sometime. How about you cutie? What’s your name?”
He could smell the green fragrance of her perfume. Like a cedar forest after a storm. Like sandalwood and lilac. “Felix Herbert.”
“That’s a nice name. Means happiness, don’t it?”
He nodded at her, ashamed at his own surprise, took an absent look around the room.
She shifted in her chair, adjusted her small black skirt. “You seem kind of nervous honey, something wrong?”
He looked her in the eyes, did his best to raise a rakish eyebrow. “What is that? The famous women’s intuition?” he said, and put his beer down on the felt table. He leaned into her, waving her forward for a secret. Then he said, into her ear: “It’s just that the woman on the stage reminds me of my math teacher from high school. I keep waiting for her to start telling me how to calculate the area of a cube or something.”
She found that hilarious. Or did she? Her laugh seemed real enough, but now Felix remembered why he detested such places. Who could know who this woman really was? If “All the world’s a stage,” was true, it was double true for strip clubs.
“You don’t have to laugh Tipitina. Unless you think it is really that funny.”
She ran fingers through her beautiful red hair and looked up towards the front of the house. A bald man in a tight black shirt stood behind the bar, massive forearms crossed in front of him.
Felix continued. “Listen…how about I go ahead and give you a hundred bucks right now. Break the ice.”
Her face went sour.
“No, no, no. I don’t want anything specific for my money. But I also don’t want to sit here with a salesman…or saleswoman or whatever. I want to sit here with a real person. That’s all I want. Just for you to sit here and be the real person that you are and talk to me for a while. Could you do that? For a Benjamin?”
She looked at him, more closely this time. It was as if he could see the real woman peering out. Her smile went up into her eyes and he felt, in every knot of gut, that it was real and she was actually smiling for him. That made him smile right back.
“I need to ask you a few questions, Tipitina. Would that be alright?”
That sour look returned just as quickly. “So…you lied…you do want something for your hundred bucks,” she said. She curled a strand of that blood red hair into a tight knot around her pointer finger and looked at him as if she’d been let down. “Are you a cop? You don’t look like a cop,” she asked. “You’ve got a baby face.”
Felix shook his head, smiled at her again. But he could feel the sincerity of the situation slipping away. She had her legs crossed and bobbed one high heel up and down.
“I’m looking for Min Ji Park. Not a cop, just a concerned party. I’m trying to help out some friends of mine at church. I know it may sound kind of strange, but I go to that Korean church over on Canal. You ever heard of it?”
She smirked and reached out to sip his beer. “You are lying. I can tell when you are lying. You wear it all over your face. Stay out of the casinos, kid.”
A pressure in his right shoulder, where the bullet had rived him. Pain creeping up from words and spilling out into the raw nerves of the real world.
“Ok. The church thing was a lie. But the truth is that a girl is missing. You did know a Korean girl, didn’t you? Her name was Min Ji. She was working here a while ago.”
Tipitina squinted her eyes as the song changed.
“You told me to be myself, and this is myself saying that you better tell me who the hell you are. Or else this interaction is over.”
He put his wallet on the table between them. “I’m an open book,” he said. She checked his face one last time, and then rifled through his cards, peeking over her shoulder towards the scary man at the bar. She found his license, his library card, and his private detective license.
Was she afraid? It was hard to tell. The makeup and dim lights and fake eyelashes made it hard to get a straight read on things. Somewhere behind the fakeness of the place was an edge of some kind. Was it fear? Or were the flashing lights and bass causing him to imagine something that wasn’t really there?
“Is she ok? Min Ji I mean?” Tipitina said finally, glancing over her shoulder and a trio of half-naked women passing by, headed to a group of jean-jacketed men who had just darkened the doorway.
“I was hoping you could answer that question. Right now we don’t know anything except that she worked here for a while and now she hasn’t been seen,” Felix said.
Tipitina put her hands out on the beer. She peeled off the label, seemed to be thinking, bit her lip.
“My real name is Tina…Tina Green,” she finally said.
“It’s swell to meet you, Tina,” Felix said. He put his hand out and she gripped it daintily.
She blew out air, nodded her head at the beer bottle in her outstretched arms. “Do you know
anything about Voodoo?” she asked.
Felix took the drink from her nervous hands and took a large swig. Nasty, domestic stuff.
“Voodoo?”
She nodded at him. He could see her now—could see that she was afraid. Afraid but brave of heart. She looked across to the bar again where the bald man stood polishing a pint glass, now firmly watching them.
“I have a break in thirty minutes. Meet me in the burger joint across the street?”
He agreed, watched her get up and leave. When the DJ called her name to go on the stage, and the wavering, drunken piano of Tipitina began, Felix got up and walked out in a hurry. Leaving, he passed a group of businessmen in a corner booth that had grown loud. A quick glance and Felix could see some things going on that nearly made his stomach turn.
“So…you said something about Voodoo?” he asked, sitting across from her now in the little burger joint. She had put on some jeans and wiped off the mascara. In the bright lights of the family establishment, Felix could see that her red hair and blue eyes were real. The mystic quality of her beauty had left and here was the real woman. She was certainly attractive, but not as stunning and exotic as she had seemed in the dim lights. He was happy for that. It made her easier to talk to.
“Yeah you know…like the religion,” she whispered, twirling her hair and leaning in close to him. He could smell her breath and the cloying perfume over the burgers, could see the glitter embedded in her powdered cheeks.
“You mean like, Marie Laveau, voodoo doll, gris gris…that kind of tourist stuff?”
“Yeah, something like that. Except, you know…like a real religion. With real people practicing it. With a church and services and priests.”
“I didn’t know anyone still practiced that. Anyway, what does this have to do with Min Ji? I was under the impression that Min Ji was a fairly stout Catholic. Well, until something of a falling out with the Father. Something about him lying maybe?”
Tipitina shrugged her shoulders and stuck out her chin. “This is really all I know, Felix Herbert. She worked here for about a month. First Asian stripper anyone of us had seen in a while. Cute as a button but rude to customers… and co-workers. She was a bad dancer. Could never seem to figure out the pole. But because she was such a looker Mickey kept her around for a while anyway. Maybe he thought he had a chance with her. But we all knew he didn’t. She had an ice to her. And then…well…she got weird. Started talking about weird things. Believing in weird things. The few times I talked to her last she was talking about Voodoo. It was the most animated I’d seen her and I got the feeling maybe she was on uppers or something. I got a bad vibe. And then, one day, she just no-showed. Everybody kind of thought it was for the best, you know? She didn’t really fit in”
Felix looked into the sparkling blue of her eyes. The sunlight was streaming in through the glass and hitting them in just the right way to turn them sapphire. “She’s turned up missing now you know,” he said to her. “Her parents are very worried. You heard about the girl out on I-10?”
She nodded and bit her lip.
“Well, here is my card anyway,” he said, sliding it across the table.
She took it and held it out in both hands, examined it. Her smile softened.
“So how long have you been a str….” Felix stuttered. “I mean, how long have you worked at…where you work?” He cringed on the inside
“How long have you been a dick?” she asked, the twinkle in her eyes taking on a piercing quality.
She stood up and took him by the arm. They walked towards the door, crossed the street and stood by the tinted windows of the strip club.
“Well, it was nice meeting you anyway, Tina. Make sure to call the number on the card. If…if anything comes up.”
As he was about to break away, her eyes shifted to something behind him. A joyous grin filled her face and she squatted in the street, extended her arms.
Felix looked over his shoulder and saw the dog. Its fluffy head was sniffing the gutter, no doubt entranced by that pungent Bourbon street concoction. Next it was licking Felix’s pant leg and then his hand. A red leash went from around its collar and led to Melancon, who was standing by the curb and regarding the three of them.
“Oh my God, he is so adorable!” Tina yelled. She gently grabbed the dog by the head and began scratching its cheeks, ignoring Melancon.
“You are just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” she said.
Melancon looked rough standing at the business end of the lead. His fedora was crumpled and his shirt was equal parts dog fur and scotch stains. He watched the stripper pet the dog, calm and inscrutable in the morning light. Felix exchanged a nod with him.
Felix took the initiative. “This is Tipitina…I mean…”
“Tina,” she said, finally stood and shook his hand.
Melancon returned the greeting, but he seemed to have his attention elsewhere. The old man looked down the street, took off his Fedora and wiped his wispy blond hair away from his forehead.
“I’m going to take you with me to my house!” Tina was saying to the dog.
“Anyway. Just let me know if you hear anything more about this stuff going around will you?” Felix said. “Min Ji. Voodoo. Anything like that. It could be a pretty serious situation.”
Her eyes grew soft and round when she looked at him. Did he detect a hint of pity there? Strange to see, he thought, from someone who took her clothes off for money. But it was there, he was sure of it. She spoke in a chiding voice. “It happens three or four times a month, Felix. A girl gets a new man who doesn’t like her stripping, and she is gone. She runs off with him or something like that. It isn’t unusual at all.”
“So, she had boyfriends?”
“Look. I don’t know. We weren’t that close. I’ve told about all I know. Unless you want me to adopt this little darling here, I guess I can’t really help you too much more. Still, I have a feeling I’ll see you again. You just have one of those faces that sticks, you know?”
“Until next time, then,” Felix said, and took her hand in a polite grip that he let linger a second longer than he should have.
“You should have waited for me,” Melancon said when they were well out of earshot.
“Waiting for your hangovers is an expensive sounding prospect, old man.”
Melancon broke a sad smile. The two had veered off the main drag and were now on Burgundy. The creole cottages with their brightly colored hurricane shutters lined the empty street. The dog pulled at the lead happily, his gaping mouth panting a trail of saliva onto the old stones.
“So, what did you learn from her?”
“Something very weird.”
“She couldn’t have told you much. Usually it is better to go a little higher up than that, Felix. We should probably try again. Ask the manager this time.”
That stung, but Felix simply nodded his head. “The manager didn’t look too friendly, if I’m being honest.”
“Not as cute either,” Melancon smirked at him. “So, what did you get from her? Aside from that dopey grin on your face?”
“She may have become involved in Voodoo…Min Ji might have, I mean…She may have converted.”
Melancon stopped in his tracks, letting the dog sniff a street sign. “Voodoo?” he said, his red eyes scrunching.
“That’s what the girl said…Voodoo…I didn’t reckon that was even still a real thing around here. I always just thought it was one of those chamber of commerce things. Used to sell cheap shit to tourists, right?”
Melancon nodded, watching the dog go into a squat.
“Well it was indeed, once, a very real thing. Do you mind Felix? My back is hurting me from that couch.”
Felix picked up a plastic shopping bag blowing against a railing. “Voodoo,” he repeated, scooping up the dog’s business. “I believe I know just the man to tell us about that.”
Melancon raised an eyebrow and continued on, letting the dog pull him forward.
�
�My cell phone is dead again, mind if I borrow that old antique of yours?” Felix asked. He flipped open the ancient phone and dialed a number that he hadn’t in far too long. A familiar voice answered.
“Herbert residence, Tomás speaking.”
“Tomás. It’s good to hear your voice old timer. How’s life?
“Felix! Why haven’t you called! It’s been what, two weeks?”
“I’m calling now.”
“Too long my boy. We have been waiting to get the news. You are some big shot, Raymond Chandler fella now? Ha! How is the new business going? Do you have any cases yet?”
Felix felt himself smiling, having missed Tomás terribly these past few weeks. He had so many questions.
“How’s the family?”
“Just doing splendidly. Your mother is here with me now. We were just out playing a game of croquet in the back yard. Your father sits under the live oak just watching the birds and giving them his little sermons. But what a beautiful day it is today my friend. When are you coming over for dinner?”
“Well, I kind of have a big case right now.”
He could hear Tomás yelling to his parents about it, elation in the old man’s voice.
“Tomás…”
The excitement on the other end of the line was palpable. It was a swell feeling, being loved. Felix resolved to himself to try harder, to take more time, to return the favor more than he had been lately. For the last little while, he’d left them to their old games—their croquet and Sunday brunches and birdwatching retreats. But he couldn’t, shouldn’t do that for too long. The need to break away for a while and make something all his own, that had been a strong one. But it was made now and he was on his own.
He felt guilty then that, even now, he was calling because he needed something. It wasn’t for him though, really. It was for the girl that was lost to her own family. So he cut right to the chase.
“Tomás, I need to know about Voodoo.”
“Voodoo? Like the…like the religion?”
“Yes, like the religion.”
“And you are calling me, Felix…to find out something about the religion of Voodoo? Me who is the strongest Catholic you know? Is this just because I’m slightly brown? You assume I know something of this?”