Bed & Breakfast Bedlam (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 1) (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Atlanta,
Georgia

Wednesday
Night, AGD

Colin Pritchard had sworn to Miss Vivee
that all he remembered about the club where Gemma had worked was its general
location. Not its name. Not what it looked like. Not even which side of the
street it was on.

I was beginning to see what Miss Vivee
meant about him not being so smart.

He seemed hurt about Gemma spurning him,
so finally confronting her should have been a big deal. Especially when he saw
her in her stripper costume. Something like that should be etched in his memory.
Forever. Something he’d share over a beer with friends when they talk about the
one that got away.

But when we got there we found that there
was a whole row of stripper clubs on Piedmont Avenue south of Main – the
directions he’d given us – which presented a dilemma: In which one had Gemma
Burke worked?

Miss Vivee checked her notebook twice,
reading and rereading from the notes she had scribbled down once we got back
from speaking with Colin. She was hoping to find something more specific he’d
said about where Gemma worked. Because here we were and with the number of
clubs – Nipp-o-lopolis, Kitty City, and Dancing Bare, just to name a few – it
looked like we were going to have to go bar hopping the rest of the night. It
made me regret agreeing to come to Atlanta. And with names like those I didn’t
care to find out which one Gemma had worked in. I was ready to turn around and
head back to Yasamee.

Mac, on the other hand, was keen on not
wasting any time determining Gemma’s employer. He suggested that he would go
into each one of them first, alone, and do some reconnaissance. Miss Vivee gave
him the evil eye and then told me to park the car, we were all going in.

I would have voted for Mac to do the
honors and then come back and share any info he had gleaned. But unfortunately
for me, Miss Vivee’s world was not a democracy.

We tried Club Kitty City first. I found a
handicap spot (go figure) right in front, we hooked the handicap sticker around
the rearview mirror and headed in.

Red and purple strobe lights and half naked
girls were everywhere. The club’s atmosphere had to be meant to mesmerize and
tantalize its clients. It immediately put Mac in a trance. He walked in, lost
his limp, and sprung a grin that lasted the entire time we were there. He had
worn a gray suit that looked at least thirty years old. It had narrow
pinstripes, which he complimented with a white shirt and a brown polka dot bow
tie. Minus the pomade, he still tried to control that shock of white hair that
framed his face by constantly rubbing it down with his hand.

 The place had all the glimmer and ritz of
the Las Vegas strip. There was a stage, no higher than the back of the chairs,
along the back wall. It had a teak colored base, a sleek black walkway, and
shiny silver stripper poles every few feet. Behind it was a backdrop that was
electric. It was punctured with small holes that had red and purple lights
piped through. The floor was filled with small, round tables each surrounded by
three tan-colored leather upholstered, tub chairs that swiveled giving its
occupants full view of all the happenings going on. And every inch of that
place was crawling with “happenings.” Pendant lamps gave low lighting. And
those strobes swept the room on a constant pendulum bouncing to the music and
off the gyrating girls.

“Now what do we do?” I asked over the
blaring music.

“We mingle,” Miss Vivee said. “Come on,
Mac.” She grabbed his arm and escorted him over to the bar. I knew I’d better
follow.

Miss Vivee had worn a rose pink, 1920s
style flapper dress. I’m sure it wasn’t from the original era, but it looked
the part. She had her hair in a bun on top of her head. She had on flats with a
strap across her instep. And, of course, her pink lipstick.

Mac slid onto one of the stools, but Miss
Vivee, with her short frame and even shorter legs tried as best she could to
climb up on a bar stool, but that just wasn’t happening. It was just like when
she tried to get into my Jeep.

“You want me to help you?” I offered.

“No,” she said and groaned. Giving up, she
straightened out her dress and pointed to a table. “Maybe we should just sit
over there.”

As the three of us walked over to the
table, our eyes lit up in wonderment as the innuendos of sex swirled around us.
I thought about how many of these strip joints we’d have to go into before we’d
find the one where Gemma worked.

This was going to be a long night.

“Oooo. I want one of those,” Miss Vivee leaned
into me and said. She pointed her bony, gnarled finger at a drink a waitress
dressed in a gold sequenced “string bikini” carried on a tray. It was skimpy,
sparkly and clung to her like it a second skin – the bikini, not the drink. The
drink was pretty and pink.

Miss Vivee tapped the waitress as she
walked by. “Come back, Sweetie, after you deliver those.”

The girl nodded. “Be right with ya,” she
said.

Didn’t Ms. Sparkly Thang think it strange
that a woman clearly over the three quarter century mark was ordering a drink?
Or for that matter that a couple, older than dirt, were in a strip bar?

No one had even given us a second glance.

What is the world coming to?

Sparkles came back to the table all
smiles, no questioning look in her eye. “What can I get y’all?”

“I want one of those drinks that you took
to that lady over there sitting with all those fellows,” Miss Vivee instructed.
“What was that?”

“A Pink Paloma.”

“That’s what I’ll have,” she sucked on her
bottom lip and made a smacking sound.

“It’s got a shot of tequila in it.”
Sparkles seemed to want to make sure Miss Vivee knew what she was ordering.

Finally someone noticing the geriatric
customers in the room.

“That’s fine,” Miss Vivee flashed her a sickly
sweet smile. Then, “Mac,” she said and elbowed him. “Order a drink.”

He looked up at the waitress, he pursed
his lips and squinted his eyes. “Let’s see,” he said and ran his hand over his
wiry white hair. She’s having tequila? Then so will I,” he said with decisiveness.
“Bring me an El Diablo,”

“Okay. And you?” Sparkles turned to me.

“I’m driving,” I said and waved my hands.
It would have been nice to have a drink to help cope with this scene, but I
knew I had to stay sober. I was envisioning that I might have to carry both Miss
Vivee and Mac to the car after they consumed just a couple of sips.

“You’re not drinking, dear?” Miss Vivee
asked me.

I just rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“Okay then, Sweetie,” Miss Vivee said to
the waitress. “That’ll be it.”

“What now?” I asked after Sparkles left.
“What do we do now?”

“We ask questions.”

“I don’t think people in this kind of
place are prone to answering questions from strangers.”

“We’ll just have to try and see,” Miss
Vivee said.

Sparkles came back with the drinks.

As she put them down with a napkin, Miss
Vivee gently touched her hand. “We’re looking for Gemma Burke. Is she here
tonight? We’re her grandparents.” Lies rolled off of Miss Vivee’s tongue just
as smooth as silk.

“Gemma?”

“Yes, she goes by the name D’lishus, I
believe.”

And Mac was right in there with her.
“We’re getting on in age and trying to get all our affairs together. It won’t
be long for us,” he said nodding. “And we want to make sure she gets what we
leave for her.” He smiled at Ms. Vivee and grabbed her hand as if they were together.

“Oh. Gemma,” Sparkles said. “Yeah. She did
go by D’lishus. I remember her. She doesn’t work here anymore. But you’d want
to talk to Champagne or Buns. They were real good friends with her. They might
know where she is.”

I didn’t know asking “questions” included
making up gigantic fibs, but I was thanking the Lord we wouldn’t have to go in
another strip bar to find answers for Miss Vivee.

“Buns?” Mac said and looked around the
room.

“Uh-huh. Buns Galore. They’re both here.
I’ll see if I can’t find one of them.”

“Buns Galore,” Mac leaned into the table
and lowered his voice. I swear I saw a spark in that old man’s eye.

“Miss Vivee,” I spoke over the music.
“What about if they know that Gemma is dead?”

“Oh,
pshaw
. How would they know?
The girl is barely cold. And who in Yasamee would call up to a strip club to
announce that Gemma Burke keeled over dead in a bowl of bouillabaisse.”

“Probably no one,” Mac said fiddling with
his drink.

“No one,” she confirmed. “We’ll be fine.
You’ll see. Just follow my lead.”

“I’m going to the restroom,” I announced.
“Don’t do anything until I get back.”

“Don’t be too long,” Miss Vivee said. “We
can’t wait if Buns and Whiskey come over. We’ll have to start in on the
interrogation.”

“Champagne,” Mac offered the correction.

“Right. Champagne. We’ve got to play out
this storyline.”

“Play out the storyline?” I scrunched up
my nose.

 
Please Lord, give me strength.

I made it to the restroom without having
to run into too many scantily clad women and could have sat on that cold stool
the entire time Miss Vivee and Mac’s story “played” out. But I knew Miss Vivee
needed me, even if she didn’t know it. While I washed my hands, I glanced in
the mirror. Shaking some of the water off, I ran my hands over my hair.

I guess I could try to do a little better
with my appearance. I hadn’t nearly taken the time or care Miss Vivee had when
I was trying to decide what to wear, seeing my choice was very limited. I
hadn’t packed much. I turned my body from side to side and looked at my butt,
lifted up my breast in my bra, and smoothed my hand down the yellow
flower-filled sundress I had on. I ran my hand over my face and licked my lips.

Maybe a little lip gloss.

Digging down in my purse, I found two
tubes of gloss. Bobbi Brown Hot Pink or Bellini High Shimmer?

Everyone else out there was glittery and
shimmery, so what the heck. I dabbed some of the Bellini on my lips and found a
comb. I tried to pull it through my hair. The humidity of the Georgia coast had
seemed to put a permanent curl in it. I was starting to look more and more like
my mother. Ugh.

 I took another look at myself in the
mirror and sighed. Trying to look better now, with all those beautiful,
alluring women out there made my efforts seem pointless.

I headed back out to the table when a hand
grabbed my arm from behind and startled me. I turned around and my eyes met a
man’s chest. But before I even let them trail up to his face I knew who it was.

Bay Colquett.

Oh crap.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Bay pulled me close
into him, leaning down, he whispered breathily in my ear through my hair. “I
like that lipstick,” he said. I could feel the heat from his words on my neck.
I didn’t know what he was trying to do, but whatever it was, it was making me nervous.

“T-Thank you,” I said,
stumbling over my words.

Then he pushed me back.
That stupid smirk of his appearing over his face. “Don’t make me have to arrest
you, Dr. Dickerson” he said. “I’d hate to throw you in jail while you’re
looking so pretty.”

“Arrest me for what?”

Why is
he always picking on me?

“Contributing to the
delinquency of the elderly,” he said and pointed over toward Miss Vivee and Mac
sitting at the table sipping on their drinks.

I turned and looked.
The sight of those two made me chuckle. “It’s more like they’re contributing to
the delinquency of me.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You think I frequent
strip bars? Or even bars for that matter.”

“Until you came to
Yasamee my grandmother hadn’t left the house in more than twenty years.”

“So I’ve heard.” I
glanced again at the two of them. Miss Vivee was deep in conversation with one
of the strippers they had yoked into talking to them. “Trust me when I tell
you,” I said. “The world was a safer place when she was inside.”

“C’mon outside with me.
I want to have a talk with you.”

“About what?” I said
not moving. “Can’t we just talk in here?”

He tugged at my arm.
“C’mon.”

“Really. I need to go
and check on Miss Vivee,” I tried to yell over the music as he dragged me across
the floor and out the door. “Your mother told me to watch her,” I said in a
huff.

“My mother doesn’t even
know you’re here,” he said after he got me outside. “She thinks you’re in
Augusta.”

I took in a sharp breath.
“Look. It’s hard to lie to your mother, but it’s much harder to breach my
allegiance to your grandmother.”

“I know,” he said.

He was staring at me, his
hazel eyes bewitching. I suddenly felt uneasy – shy – embarrassed. And self-conscious.

Did I
have something on my nose? Around my mouth.

“How did you know we
were here, anyway?” I said and started swiping at my face to remove anything
stuck on it.

“Grandmother told me.
And I saw that big monstrosity she calls a car parked in front. If you guys were
trying to be incognito, you failed miserably.”

“Oh. So. Did you then tell
your mother we were in Atlanta? Because when she finds out she is going to hate
me.”

“I didn’t tell her.
It’s hard to breach my allegiance with my grandmother, too.”

“Then why’d you drag me
out here?” I narrowed my eyes. “I thought you were going to fuss at me about
bringing Miss Vivee here.”

“No. I’m glad you’re
taking time with my grandmother,” he said. “You know, sometimes she feels like
she’s losing her independence. We all hover over her, checking on her every
second, trying to tell her what she can and can’t do. I know that bothers her.”

“She certainly never
lets me question her independence. The way she bosses me around, there’s never
any uncertainty of who’s in charge.”

“I think it’s okay to
let her do whatever she wants. She’s grown. But my mother, and sometimes Auntie
Brie seem to forget that. They act like she’s a child. My grandmother is sharp
though, and smart. She doesn’t need coddling. ”

“Don’t I know it?” I
said. “She’s one of those people that could squeeze blood from a turnip. Since
I’ve been around her, I’ve seen that whatever she sets her mind to accomplish
she can do.”

“Listen to you,
‘squeeze blood from a turnip.’ What do you know about those southern sayings?”

I laughed. “My
grandparents are from the south. That’s how I know to mind my manners with Miss
Vivee. Plus, I see how she manipulates people to get what she wants. I’ve
learned to just give in.”

Bay laughed. “I know.
She’s like this chameleon. She gets to talking like she’s this down home girl
with the ‘ain’t’ and ‘cause’ when she wants to give the impression she’s just
regular folk. Then she’s got a different way when she’s passing out her
homemade remedies.”

“I know,” I said. “And
then sometimes she’s using all these big words like she’s a college professor.
But her lies –she can tell some big ones. Wow.”

“She’s not just acting,
you know with the big words and all. She went to college.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Got a degree in
biology. Wanted to be a doctor.”

“Wow. I didn’t know
that.”

“Yeah. But what I’m
trying to say is that my grandmother, sometimes when she’s demanding, and
seems, I don’t know, obstinate, or mean, or overbearing, I think it’s because
she’s fighting for her right to stay independent. You know? She has to be
forceful to keep her personality. To be an ‘adult.’ Not to let people take over
her life because they think she’s old and helpless. You understand what I’m
trying to say?”

“Yeah. I know,” I said and
looked back through the door of Kitty City. When I turned back around, Bay was
staring at me. “Your mother explained to me once that as we grow old we still
feel the same on the inside,” I said, his staring weirding me out. “I know that
Miss Vivee still wants to live her life.” My words seemed to float right past
him.

I let my eyes meet his,
and his stare locked mine in. There was a twinkle there as if he was smiling at
me through them. The moment then suddenly felt intense. I broke my gaze and the
lingering silence between us was uncomfortable. I didn’t like the feeling that
sprung up in me from somewhere deep inside, out of nowhere. And then I decided
I couldn’t stay around Bay any longer.

I
didn’t know what he was doing to me.

“I probably should get
back,” I said breaking the silence. “I have to keep an eye on those two.”

“So,” he said. “I just
came by to warn you to take good care of my grandmother and her boyfriend.”

“That is not her
boyfriend,” I chuckled. “She says she is too old to have one of those.” I kept
my eyes away from looking into his. “So you came all the way up here to check
on us?”

“No. I had to go to
Gainesville for work.”

Oh no.
I hope that wasn’t work that involved me.

“I-I thought you were
on vacation? Your mother said you were going to be in Yasamee for a week, maybe
longer,” I said. “She said you were on vacation.”

A smile lit up his
face. “You asked my mother about me?”

“No.” I lied and
swallowed hard. “Not really. I mean . . . You know . . . It just came up.”

“Oh,” he said. “I am on
vacation. But I had some evidence in my car that I needed to turn it in.”

“Oookaay.” I didn’t
want to hear what that was about. “I gotta go,” I said and ducked back inside
of Kitty City before he could say anything else.

“She did good for herself,” one of the
strippers was saying when I sat back down at the table. I’m guessing from the
size of her backside she was Buns Galore. “Didn’t she, Champagne?” Buns asked
the other girl who was wearing what looked like a gold lamé onesie.

“Yeah, she did. You should be proud of
her,” Champagne said. “She only worked here long enough to finish school.”

“Finish school?” Miss Vivee asked. “I
remember once she told me she wanted to be a cosmetologist.”

“Oh, no. She did one better. She got
herself a college degree.”

“That’s my girl,” Miss Vivee clapped her
hands together. “We’re so proud of her, aren’t we Mac?”

She should be on the stage somewhere
, I thought.
This
is definitely the kind of performance that would garner a Tony.

“What did she study while she was in
school?” Mac joined the masquerade. He and Miss Vivee were like two peas in a
pod.

“She’s a teacher. Up in Powder Springs.”

“What grade does she teach?” Mac asked.

“Second graders,” Buns said.

“Let me think,” Champagne said. “I’ll
remember the name of the school. Hold on give me a minute . . .”

“It was Euclid Park Elementary,” Buns
spoke up. “Euclid. Like the mathematician.”