Revenge of the Chili Queens (28 page)

“Never too busy for me,” I assured him, and of course, I was right.

Backstage, we located John Wesley Montgomery in a small room off the main stage where he wouldn’t be likely to be seen by anyone from the Showdown, and when the door was closed behind us, I gave my dad a hug.

“Enjoyin’ the show?” he asked Nick. “Plenty of pretty girls out there.”

“There are, but you see, sir, I—”

“Sir!” Jack threw his head back and roared. “Now that’s going to take some gettin’ used to. So . . .” He gave Nick a knowing wink. “You were about to tell me, son, about how you weren’t really lookin’ at all those girls because you’ve only got eyes for Maxie here.”

Nick grinned. Which is the only reason I didn’t slug him when he said, “Maxie’s not exactly my type.”

“But . . .” Jack egged him on. “You were gonna say that even though she’s not your type, she’s the sort of woman that just worms her way into your heart, whether you want her to or not, right?”

Color touched Nick’s cheeks. “I’m pretty sure that’s what happened.”

“Well, from what I can see, it looks righter than hen’s feathers to me. That is . . .” Jack looked my way. “If it’s what Maxie wants.”

I never had a chance to answer. That’s because from out in the hallway, I heard Eleanor Alvarez’s voice. I opened the door just in time to see her come sweeping through the backstage area barking orders.

“I need those girls out here now!” Poor Eleanor struggled between projecting a note of authority in her voice and keeping it down so those on the other side of the red velvet curtain couldn’t hear. “They need to be lined up before the curtain goes up.” When no one jumped, she looked at the nearest stagehand and waved a hand backstage. “Go!” she ordered. “Get them! And get that useless director, too! Where is she? Isn’t this her job?”

He did. Within a minute or so, a line of evening gown–clad, giggling beauty queens hurried onto the stage. They were followed by the middle-aged woman whose job it was to direct the logistics of the show, looking even more frazzled than she had when I watched her work at the rehearsal.

Eager to see how the whole behind-the-scenes thing worked, I told Jack we’d see him later, and Nick and I trailed into the wings. From that vantage point, I was nearly blinded by the twinkling of sequins and beads.

But even that didn’t equal the flash when Eleanor waved a hand and blue sparks shot from that gigantic sapphire ring of hers.

“The curtain’s going to go up in just a few minutes,” she told the girls. “So let’s make sure you all look your best. Stand back. Now turn to the left. Now to the right.”

“Turn to the left. Turn to the right.” I followed her direction as I repeated what she’d said.

“What are you mumbling about?” Nick asked.

I waved away the question.

But then, I was a little busy feeling amazed.

“Come on.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get back to our seats while the auditorium lights are still on.”

“I’ll be . . . I’ll be right there. Going to find a ladies’ room.” I lied, and once Nick was out front, I took a quick look around, racing through the maze of backstage corridors, hoping to find the dressing room.

“Looking for something?”

I hadn’t planned on running into Eleanor Alvarez so early in my search, and when we nearly crashed into each other in a narrow hallway, I skidded to a stop.

“Just looking for the dressing rooms,” I told her. Completely true, since I’d hoped to make it there before she got back so I could rummage through whatever she might have left there in search of clues. “Tiffany borrowed my blusher.” Not so completely true, but Eleanor didn’t need to know that. “You know the girl’s as dumb as a box of rocks. Just thought I’d get it back before—”

“You can do better than that, can’t you?” Eleanor’s smile was angelic and tinged with just the slightest bit of pity. “Tiffany would never use your blusher. Number one, because I suspect you buy your makeup at the drugstore and she has far better taste than that. Number two, the color would be all wrong for her.”

“Like that brownish lipstick she’s always wearing!” I shivered like it actually mattered. “I told the girl to go pinker, but like I said, box of rocks.”

Eleanor stepped to her right. It was a casual enough
move, but I couldn’t help but notice that because of it, she completely blocked the hallway.

“What are you really up to?” she asked.

“Not a thing.” I stepped forward, but she didn’t give way. “I just wanted to look around. You know, to soak in some of the glamour of the—”

She laughed. “I really don’t think so. You weren’t going to do something you shouldn’t do, were you? All the girls left their purses in the dressing room. I can’t believe it, Maxie! Should I . . . Do I need to call security? We’ve got our money and our credit cards in our purses. We all need to protect that.”

“And you’ve got a reputation to protect, too, right?”

She tossed her head. “Really, I don’t know what you’re talking about. My reputation is—”

“As pure as the driven snow.” I took a tiny step to my left, nearer to where Eleanor stood looking as gorgeous as ever that day in a trim black suit. I’d never realized just how much she towered over me until that moment. “That was the idea, right? To keep your reputation nice and squeaky clean.”

“I don’t need to do anything. My dear, late husband—”

“Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah. Your dear late husband was what, like a hundred years older than you? And when he died, he left you a pile of money, didn’t he? He bought your way into society, and I bet you’re willing to do anything to make sure nothing ever upsets that applecart.” I managed another careful step to my left just as Eleanor stepped forward to further block my path.

“Whatever you think,” she said, “it isn’t true. And your crazy lies . . . well, you could never prove them.”

“Pretty much. Except for that ring of yours. And the DVD. You know, the one I took from Dom’s apartment the night I was there.”

“You? What were you doing at that poor man’s apartment?”

“The same thing you were doing there, I imagine. I wanted to have a look around and see what the police missed. You wanted to make sure there was no incriminating evidence left behind. By the time you got there, there wasn’t. See, I took that DVD with me.”

“Number one, I’ve never been to that man’s apartment. Why would I have been? And number two, what DVD are you talking about?”

“The one I told you about. You know, the one with James Faragut in it. It shows actors auditioning for porn movies, and I’m pretty sure you were the one directing them.”

Eleanor’s laugh was as sharp as broken glass. “Do you know who I am?”

“I do. And hey, it’s not like I hold the whole porn thing against you or anything. My bet is that it all happened before you met that old husband of yours. And a girl has to eat, right? I’m sure you made more money making porn movies than you would have waiting tables.”

Her top lip curled. “You’re talking crazy. And besides, even if it was true, you could never prove it.”

“I can. Because, see, at one point in the video, we can hear your voice in the background.”

She sloughed this off like the nothing it was.

“And for another . . .” I gauged the distance between me and Eleanor, and the distance from there to the intersecting hallway that would take me toward the wings and back out front. “There’s that ring of yours. There’s no mistaking that. See, you held out your hand at one point in the video, and the ring flashed nice and bright and blue, just like it’s been flashing in the stage lights.”

She glanced down at the sapphire. “It isn’t in the video. That’s impossible!” She spoke too quickly and realized her mistake the moment the words were out of her mouth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe not. But if that’s true, then you won’t mind me giving the cops a copy of that DVD. We’ll let them decide if I’m right.”

“Or not.”

Eleanor closed in on me, her eyes flashing sparks much like her ring. Only these sparks were icy cold.

Before she could get any closer, I raced forward, rammed her out of the way, and ran.

I wasn’t at all surprised that she came after me, and I looked left and right, trying to make a split-second decision about which was the best way to go and the quickest way to find help.

From out front, the music swelled, and I imagined the curtain getting ready to rise on all those smiling beauty queens.

“Nobody’s ever going to find out.” Eleanor was right behind me, her growl punctuated by the upbeat rhythm
of the music. “No one’s ever going to know what I did in my past. It’s none of their business.”

I spun to face her, back stepping the entire time. “But Dom found out, didn’t he? And since I know Dom was a lowlife who blackmailed Teddi, I’m guessing he blackmailed you, too, right? He wanted money or he’d let everyone know you directed porn movies. And once your society friends found that out—”

“They weren’t going to find out. Nobody was ever going to find out. That’s why I paid Dom. That’s why I paid him a whole lot of money.”

I thought back to our visit to Dom’s apartment. “Enough for him to buy a Porsche.”

“Enough for two Porches,” Eleanor snarled. “But that doesn’t mean I killed him.”

“Oh, come on!” I guess the stage decorations had been changed since the first part of the pageant, because, still backing up, I bumped into the giant can of Consolidated Chili that had been moved into the middle of the passageway, and was trapped there between the can of chili and Eleanor.

“You’re not going to ruin this cushy little life,” she growled. “I won’t let you.”

“Oh, but I am.” This sounded plenty brave, but with any luck, she couldn’t see that I was shaking. “I’m going to tell the world. Everyone’s going to know that Dom was blackmailing you and why. Everyone’s going to realize you had a great reason to want to shut him up. I bet he ran into you back in LA when he was a cop and you were shooting those
porn movies. And then he shows up years later here in San Antonio and sees that you’re this queen of society. Dom was the kind of guy who didn’t bat an eye at stealing seventeen dollars from Ginger and Teddi’s tip jar. I can only imagine that when he saw what you’d become, his mouth started to water.”

Eleanor rumbled and came at me. My back plastered to the can of chili, my arms out at my sides, I slipped to the other side of the giant can and took off running.

There was only one place to go. I raced onto the stage just as James Faragut stepped up to the microphone and the curtain rose.

“I might have been producing porn videos, but I didn’t kill him, you little bitch!” Eleanor screamed and skidded to a stop just a foot or two away from me, and when she realized where she was and that there were seven beauty queens onstage and a couple hundred people in the audience staring at her with their mouths open, she offered them a grand and gracious smile.

It might have been more convincing if her eyes didn’t spit fire, she wasn’t breathing hard, and her fingers weren’t curled and ready to go around my neck.

I wasn’t about to wait around and see if she’d succeed. I ran, bowling over Miss Chili’s Cookin’ and Miss Hotter than a Chili Pepper in the process. Before I made it to where James Faragut stood with his mouth hanging open, Nick had already jumped up onstage and subdued Eleanor.

Well, physically, anyway.

“She made me say that!” Eleanor screamed. “She made me say that stuff about the porn movies. You can’t believe
it. None of you . . .” Her eyes wide and her hair mussed, she pleaded with the audience, most of whom had their phones out and were busy snapping pictures. “None of you can believe that. I would never . . . I would never . . .”

It was almost enough to make me feel sorry for her.

“You okay?” After he handed Eleanor off to fairgrounds security, Nick hurried over. “Good thing you’re fast.”

I wound my arm through Nick’s. “Let’s get out of here. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

“No! No, you can’t!” Tiffany stepped forward, waving toward the people in the audience who were thinking the way I was thinking and had already gotten to their feet to head to the doors. “You can’t leave. The pageant isn’t over! We have to crown a Miss Consolidated Chili!”

I glanced at the seven assembled beauty queens. Miss Chili’s Cookin’ and Miss Hotter than a Chili Pepper were back on their feet and looking none the worse for wear, and one by one, each girl raised her chin and smiled.

“I guess the pageant isn’t over yet,” I told Nick, and like everyone else in the auditorium, we returned to our seats.

“Well . . .” Sylvia spun in her seat so she could see me, and really, I couldn’t decide if that gleam in her baby blues was one of begrudging admiration or all-out envy. “Looks like you’ve solved another murder.”

At the risk of looking like a beauty queen, I pulled back my shoulders. “Looks like I have.”

Nick slipped an arm around me. “You should have told me you had an eye on Eleanor. There’s no way you should have gone after her alone.”

He was right, but hey, it turned out okay, didn’t it? When
the house lights dimmed, I sat back and watched Miss Texas Spice twirl baton, Miss Chili’s Cookin’ sing (yikes!) opera, Miss Hotter than a Chili Pepper juggle, and on and on.

“Will it never end?” I groaned when Miss San Antonio Chili Queens finished her sign language rendition of the Declaration of Independence.

“Only one more,” Nick whispered back. “Miss Texas Triangle.”

Bindi Monroe.

I will admit that when she walked out onstage holding a guitar painted in a wild pattern of red, white, and blue stripes, I held my breath and prepared for the worst.

Until she opened her mouth and started to sing.

The girl had a good voice and a sense of style. I sat back and enjoyed her jazzy interpretation of “The Yellow Rose of Texas.”

For like twenty seconds.

“Nick,” I tugged at his sleeve just as Bindi started in on a second chorus. “Do you remember the murder scene?”

His wrinkled nose conveyed his
huh?

“The murder scene . . .” I grumbled, mad that I couldn’t explain, not with the music and the singing and the swirls of painted colors on Bindi’s guitar that I found so distracting and so revealing.