The Corpse Wore Cashmere (12 page)

A. K. took Susan’s arm. “One battle’s enough. Time for a drink.” But before they reached the bar, a young man tapped A. K. on the shoulder.

“How about a dance, gorgeous?”

“You bet. How’d you know my name?” She stepped into his opened arms, and they disappeared into the crowded dance floor.

Susan laughed. Poor man; he didn’t know what he was in for.

Finding a seat at the bar, Susan signaled the bartender.

“Well, hello there, costume lady,” Sam said. “VO and Sprite, right?”

“Right.”

Miguel took the seat next to her. “How’s it going?”

“Great. Glad you’re here. You still haven’t found Randy?”

Miguel looked over the dance floor. “He has to be in disguise. I don’t see him. I’ll keep an eye out and let you know when I do. Well, I’d better check on my crew.” He strolled toward the lobby.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned, Blackbeard reached out a hand for her. “I believe you promised me a dance.”

The odd-looking tattoo on his wrist identified him as the same man she had danced with the night before. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“You look even more beautiful than when I last saw you.”

“And you, my friend, have a silver tongue.” She heard a muffled chuckle beneath his mask. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

He nodded.

“The tattoo on the back of your wrist. Why a pitchfork?”

This time he laughed out loud, a deep, robust laugh. “Indeed not. It’s a trident.”

“Like Neptune’s staff?”

“Exactly. I spend a great deal of time on the water and thought his symbol would be appropriate. In a way, I kind of see myself like Neptune. Not that I envision myself as a god, but I believe I draw upon his multi-faceted character.”

That piqued Susan’s interest. She had delved in mythology and was familiar with the lore attached to Neptune. While she possessed precognitive powers, she in no way compared her attributes to those of a mythological god.

He turned his wrist to better show his tattoo. “Neptune’s staff represents the three-fold essences of nature—birth, life, death. And his energy provokes various states of emotions, fantasies, perceptions—even touches on ESP.”

“You really believe that?”

“Why not? People have believed crazier things.” The dance ended, and he escorted her back to the bar. “Did you notice the cross at the bottom of his staff?” He pointed to it and said, “That represents a stabilizing force.”

It also represents that you’re a fruitcake. Can I pick ’em or what?

“One more dance?” he asked.

At that moment, she had a brain freeze and couldn’t think of a reason to send him packing, and before she knew it, she was on the dance floor.
Well, this is your last dance, buster
.
When this song ends, we’re parting ways.

As they circled the room, he maneuvered them close to an exit that led to the beach. “I find it stuffy in here,” he said, clearing his throat. “Why don’t we get some fresh air? A stroll on the beach would be nice.”

The idea of going off alone with this stranger sent up red flags. Wesley’s words bounced around in her head—stay with A. K. and in crowds. She forced a smile and hoped she didn’t show the panic that was building inside her. Her stomach was turning flips. “I really shouldn’t. My friend will wonder what happened to me.” She turned to head to the bar, but he grabbed her arm.

“We won’t be gone long.”

Opening the door to the beach, his hand tightened around her bicep like a steel band.

“I said, ‘No.’” The music was so loud, it drowned out her protest. Everyone seemed caught up in their own little world. No one seemed concerned about her.

Before she knew it, her boots were sliding over the sandy walkway. Her mind raced faster than her pounding heart. Was this Lorraine’s killer? Lorraine’s terror-stricken face flashed before her eyes. Would Wesley find pieces of her mangled body? Susan screamed for help, but no one was around to hear her. Her cries became whimpers, and she pleaded with him. “Please, let me go.”

Wesley slipped a stack of Randy’s mug shots into a folder and put a few in the inside pocket of his jacket. “You ready?” he asked Dylan.

Dylan popped a stick of gum into his mouth. “Let’s do it.”

The two climbed into Wesley’s unmarked Crown Victoria and headed for the marina.

“I still can’t get over the photos Myrtle found. Dang, the old man was really getting some hot action,” Dylan said.

“Yes, and look where it got him. The big man is about to hit rock bottom.”

A few miles from the Rusty Nail, the dispatcher came on the radio.

“You there, Wes?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Thought you’d like to know. A call just came in. There’s a fire at the Bawdy Boutique.”

“Damn! We just passed there. I didn’t see anything. I’m on my way to check it out.”

Wesley hit the lights, made a U-turn, and gunned the motor. He pulled in right behind the fire engine. Only then did he notice a glow coming from the back of the shop. When he drove around the boutique, he saw the problem. A burning dumpster had been pushed against the building.

He and Dylan scrambled from his vehicle and ran to help two firemen who were struggling to push the dumpster clear of the back wall. When water hit the container, smoke billowed into the air. The paint on the back of the building that contained the warehouse was blackened and blistered, but no part of the structure appeared to be on fire.

When Wesley returned to his unit, a woman was talking with the chief.

“Thanks to this young lady, we caught this one just in time,” the fire chief said.

“Melanie? What are doing here at this time of night?”

“I thought I left the coffee pot on and came to check on it. Glad I did. When I parked out front, a dark car sped from behind the building and onto the highway toward Hammond. It was too dark to get a description, but I think it was an SUV. I drove around back to make sure everything was okay, and that’s when I saw the dumpster in flames against the warehouse. Poor Susan; she doesn’t deserve this.”

“It could have been lots worse if you hadn’t shown up when you did. Her whole store could have gone up in flames. As it is, she’ll only have to spring for a new paint job.”

“What do you think happened?” Dylan asked the fire chief.

“Soon as I get a look inside the dumpster, I’ll be able to tell you something.”

The flashing lights on the fire engine and on Wesley’s vehicle caused a couple of curious onlookers to pull into the parking lot.

“I’ll take care of them,” Dylan said.

“Whose cars are those parked in the back lot?” the chief asked Wesley.

“The yellow Camaro belongs to Susan Griffin, and the red Mustang belongs to A. K. Williams. Susan owns the Bawdy Boutique and is in partnership with Ms. Williams in the Purple Pickle next door. They’re away on business.”

“I’ll need to notify Ms. Griffin.”

“Chief, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to tell her,” Wesley said.

“Sure, but I will still have to contact her officially. Being no one was injured and there’s minimal damage, I suppose it can wait awhile.”

“Wesley, I know how much Susan and A. K. were so looking forward to the Biloxi trip,” Melanie said. “They sank a lot of money into the costumes. Please tell her not to rush back here, that everything is okay, and we can handle it.”

“I will.”

With the fire doused, the chief had his men pull debris from the dumpster. “Well, I can tell you this much—it wasn’t an accident.” He pointed to a half-melted gas container. “Anyone have a grudge against her?”

Since he didn’t know whether or not she had stepped on some toes in Biloxi, Wesley would only be speculating. “No one around here that I can think of.”

“Susan couldn’t possibly have any enemies,” Melanie said. “She has such a good heart and is always willing to help everyone.”

“Then maybe it was meant for one of the employees? Or it could have been just to see something go up in flames.” The chief readjusted his helmet. “There are a lot of crazies in the world.”

“Are you going to be okay, Melanie?” Wesley asked.

“Yes, and you make sure Susan knows that. She’s not to worry about the boutique.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Wesley said with a grin. “Well, Dylan and I have another stop to make, so I’ll tell you all goodnight.”

Susan had tried without success to wrench herself free, but the man was too strong. His fingers dug deeper into her arm. If only she had a weapon. Then it dawned on her—she did. When they left the sidewalk and stepped onto solid ground, he turned to face her. Remembering her self-defense class, she drove her knee up and into his most vulnerable area. He doubled over and gasped for air. She bolted for the ballroom. In her haste to escape, she slipped and skinned her knees. Scrambling to her feet, she found traction and charged through the door onto the dance floor.

She saw Sam, leaning over the bar and watching her run through the crowd. He ran from behind the bar to meet her. “What’s wrong?”

Susan gulped air into her breathless lungs and said in a ragged breath, “He tried to drag me to the beach.”

“Who?”

“The man who was next to me at the bar, the one dressed as Blackbeard. Catch him!” she said, pointing to the exit.

“Take over,” Sam called to his assistant. In a flash, he sprinted across the dance floor and out the door.

Susan stared after him, hoping he could catch her assailant. A few moments later, Sam returned alone.

“I didn’t see anyone. Did you get his name?”

By now, her heart had stopped racing, and her breathing had returned to normal. “How about Blackbeard?” Her smirk told him she was being sarcastic. The fear that had consumed her a few moments ago had turned to anger. Fire crept into her cheeks, fueled by rage. Despite her determination to be careful, someone had found her out and managed to overpower her. Yes, she wanted to do everything she could to find Lorraine’s killer, but not at the expense of becoming the next victim.

Sam pulled out his phone and punched in a number. “I’m the bartender in the ballroom at the Pirates’ Reef. Someone assaulted a guest.” He paused and nodded. “Yes, she’s unharmed and with me now. Good.”

“They’re coming here? I don’t want to disrupt the festivities.”

“You won’t, but the police have to be notified.” He looked at the dance floor, packed with revelers circling the room to the beat of a Cajun Two-Step. “As far as I can tell, no one suspects anything. The supply room is behind the bar. It’ll give us privacy.”

Before long, two officers arrived, and the bartender escorted everyone into the supply room. Susan gave her name, address, why she was at the hotel, and an account of what happened. Sam did the same. All the while, one of the deputies took notes.

“If you’re finished with me, I need to get back to work,” Sam said.

The taller of the deputies nodded that he could go. “Ms. Griffin, I have a few more questions for you. How well did you know this man?”

“I only met him briefly last night. He was really into his disguise and preferred to remain anonymous. All I could see was that he had dark brown eyes.” She felt foolish that she couldn’t tell them more about her abductor.

“Besides his eyes, did you notice anything else? For instance, did he talk with an accent? Maybe he used a special aftershave you could identify. Did he smell of tobacco or walk with limp?”

“When he tried to force me away from the hotel, all I could think of was getting away.” She rubbed her brow as if to clear her mind. “Wait. There was something. He had a tattoo on the back of his right wrist—a trident.”

The deputy stopped writing. A puzzled look crossed his face, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You know. The three-prong staff Neptune carries.”

“So that’s what it’s called.” The officer added the information to his notes. “How long will you be staying at the hotel, Ms. Griffin?”

“I’m leaving Sunday.”

He handed Susan his card. “We’re going to do a perimeter search. If you think of anything else, call me. And I’d advise you not to venture out on your own.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Susan thanked them, and after they left, she returned to the bar.

Sam handed her a VO and Sprite. “I figure you could use a drink.”

“Thanks.” Maybe the alcohol would help calm her rattled nerves so she wouldn’t sound like a blathering idiot when she found A. K. She took a couple of swallows and scanned the ballroom, looking for her friend. What she saw sent a shot of adrenaline surging through her body. Blackbeard had A. K. in his arms. As he twirled her around, he guided her toward the exit.

“Sam, it’s him!” Susan bolted across the dance floor, catching up with them before they could open the door to the beach. Sam was right beside her. Susan grabbed the man’s arm and spun him around. In the next second, Sam pinned him against the wall.

A. K.’s eyes all but bugged out of her head. “What are you doing?”

Susan checked the man’s wrist. “It’s not him,” she said to Sam. Then she spotted another Blackbeard and rushed toward him. So what if the couple thought she was crazy? She didn’t care. All she wanted was to catch the man with the tattoo. Discovering she was wrong again, she apologized for interfering. “I’m sorry.”

Sam had followed her during her search. “I would think your Blackbeard is long gone, but I’m here if you need me.”

“You’re right. He’d be crazy to still be here.”

Sam returned to the bar as A. K. strode toward her, dragging the man in costume along with her. “What’s going on? Have you lost your mind?”

The man dressed as Blackbeard peeled the mask from his head.

Susan’s mouth flew opened. “Jack!”

“I never know what to expect when you’re around, but I never thought I’d be accosted. A little warning would be nice.”

“Care to tell us what this is all about?” A. K. asked.

“Let’s go where we can talk in private.” Susan led them to the front of the hotel and to a vacant area in the solarium. “Let’s sit here.” She pointed to a wrought iron table and chairs. After telling them about her near abduction, she said, “I find it hard to believe someone would come after me. It seems obvious I know nothing since I’m asking questions.”