The Saucy Lucy Murders (18 page)

Wait a minute, Lexie thought, hopes brightening. No doubt this is where the extra money went she’d given Eva. Better this than a nose ring or a tongue stud. All was not wrong with the world.

Eva took Lexie’s elbow, guided her into the eating area of the Saucy Lucy Café, and sat her in a chair. Zorro danced seductively in her direction. His hips gyrated in front of her face and spicy-cologned sweat flew from his hard, lean body. As he swept his cape around and slashed the air with his sword,
Lexie tried to catch her breath.

“Oh, my … oh, my!” Lucy had taken her fan out of her purse and was once again waving it madly in front of her face.

Eva grinned from ear to ear and Aunt Gladys was ecstatic, clapping and whooping like a wild person, encouraging the young man to, “Take it all off!”

Winkie eyed the male dancer intently, fingering the gold hoop in his ear as he clutched his little dog to his chest.

At last Zorro peeled away his cape, hat, and his clothes, piece by piece.

Lucy caught Lexie’s attention. “Do something,” she said. “This is simply outrageous!”

Lexie shrugged. What was she supposed to do? It was Eva’s birthday surprise—how could she ruin it? And it really was harmless enough, though she was sure that by now Lucy’s support hose must have melted into her sturdy brown loafers. What a story she’d have to tell patootiehead Otis!

Lucy glanced uncomfortably at her watch several times, trying pathetically to ignore Zorro when he brushed up against her. Her face turned incredibly red and she whipped her fan at him. “Shoo,” she shouted. “Go away!”

Grinning devilishly, he moved on to Eva for a little playful seduction, while Lucy resumed fanning herself.

With a final flourish, he tore off his belled trousers, tossing them aside. When he swept past Aunt Gladys, she produced a bill and stuffed it in his
g-string. Lucy put a hand to her forehead and plastered herself against a wall like an insect caught in spider web.

Zorro’s oiled six-pack rippled as he danced his way over and straddled Lexie’s lap, shaking his package in her face. Of course he stared at her cleavage while all of it was going on. Oh, well, Lexie thought. You only live once and she was, after all, the birthday broad. She pulled a bill from her jeans pocket and stuffed it in his g-string.

But he didn’t go away. He continued with his dance for what seemed like hours, though it probably lasted only minutes. At last he leaned over, handed Lexie a card and whispered in her ear, his warm, moist breath caressing her cheek. “Call me later, baby. I love to do it with older women …”

Lexie’s jaw dropped and her face prickled with wildfire. Did he really think she would call him? Not on her life. Good Lord, he could be her son!

Zorro jumped away, did a few more twists and gyrations and when the music stopped, he bowed deeply for his audience. While everyone clapped, with the exception of Lucy, he got dressed and waved to everyone. Winking at Lexie, he disappeared through the front door.

Eva turned down the music. “I’ll order pizza for dinner if that’s OK with everyone.”

“That’s fine with me,” Lexie said.

“Splendid,” Aunt Gladys squealed. “I haven’t had pizza since Brucie put me in Dr. Demented’s
castle of torture. They’re all crazy there, you know.”

Lucy reached into her purse, fished out a small wrapped package and handed it to Lexie. Then she smoothed down her dress and patted her bun. “I think I need to go home,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve had a little too much excitement for one night. I do believe my blood pressure’s up.”

Screeching tires, a loud thump, and a hoarse scream drew everyone’s attention.

Muffin started barking, jumped out of Winkie’s arms and ran around in circles. Everyone rushed out of the house and onto the porch.

Beneath the dim streetlights, Zorro lay on his back spread-eagled on the asphalt, his cape spread out behind him. Nearby, black tire tracks slashed across the road.

Winkie, who had managed to collect Muffin, clutched the growling mutt to his chest and said, “Oh, my God. The boy’s been hurt.”

H
E’S BEEN RUN OVER
,” L
EXIE CRIED AND RAN
over to him with Eva on her heels. The two of them knelt beside Zorro.

The fine hairs on Lexie’s neck stood on end as she looked at the blood pooling beside his head. She swallowed a wave of hiccoughs. Who could have done such an awful thing? Fighting squeamishness, she gently lifted his wrist and checked for a pulse. It was there, but very faint.

She leaned closer to him, held the back of her hand near his mouth and felt faint puffs of air. Thank God he was breathing, although it was very shallow. “He’s alive,” she told Eva. “But he needs help. Fast. Go inside and call 911, then Uncle Otis.”

Eva sprinted back up the porch steps and inside the house.

Lucy hustled up beside them as fast as her sturdy loafers allowed. She looked down at Zorro, clasped
her hands and began to pray, mutters of contrition filling the air.

“Lucy, Zorro needs blankets right now. Not prayers.”

“Of course,” she said, eyes popping open. Once again, as fast as her sturdy loafers allowed, she hurried back to the house.

Aunt Gladys tottered up next with Winkie at her side. “Why is that young man napping in the street? He has such a fine looking a—”

“Aunt Gladys!” Lexie gave her aunt a warning glance.

“Oh my, he’s bleeding!” Aunt Gladys backed away, eyes wide. “My, oh my, oh my. I think I need my pills. I think I’m going to faint.”

Winkie, still holding his growling dog, took Aunt Gladys’ elbow and patted her on the back. “It’s going to be all right, love. Help is on its way.”

“But it’s happening again!” Aunt Gladys shrieked. “It’s the Castleton curse! That’s why I left this place. It’s horrible!”

“Could you take my aunt inside?” Lexie asked Winkie, wondering what in the world the Castleton curse was. “She’s upset.”

“Of course.”

Aunt Gladys gibbered incoherently as Winkie guided her back to the Victorian, talking softly to console her. Eva came back outside followed by Lucy, arms loaded with blankets. Both of them headed into the street.

“The ambulance is on its way and I got a hold of Uncle Otis, too,” Eva said, once she arrived at Lexie’s side.

Lucy helped arrange the covers on Zorro.

“Eva, do you know Zorro’s name?”

“Elton Briarhurst. He goes to Westonville University, too.” She choked back a sob.

A thought occurred to Lexie. “Would Elton be a member of the
Dr. and Mrs. Miles Briarhurst
family who live in Marble Canyon in that huge mansion on the hill?”

Eva nodded. “He’s their son.”

Lexie groaned. Dr. Briarhurst was a famous surgeon with a golden pocketbook and tons of influence in the little town of Moose Creek Junction, Weston-ville, Denver, and probably the Great Beyond.

“Why would a kid whose parents are filthy rich take a job as a stripper?” Lexie asked.

“He’s majoring in drama, Mom. He figures this helps him learn to get into character.”

Lexie leaned close to the young man again. “Elton, can you hear me? Elton, Elton?”

He moaned, but didn’t respond. In the distance, the sound of an ambulance siren pierced the air.

Otis pulled up in his sheriff’s car, lights flashing. He got out of the vehicle and walked up to them. “Is he dead?” His brow knitted with concern as he knelt beside Zorro.

“No, but he’s in bad shape,” Lexie responded.

Otis mopped his forehead with a crumpled
handkerchief, turned to examine the tire tracks and stood up. “Jumpin’ catfish. What happened?”

“We were having a birthday party for Mom, Uncle Otis,” Eva said. “When Elton left, someone … someone ran over him!”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Otis asked.

“No. He was here to—”

“Ahem.” Lucy gave her niece a stern look.

“Ah, he was here to, ah …” Eva looked at Lexie for help.

“He was here to
entertain
us,” Lexie finally said.

“Oh?” Otis raised a brow. “With what? A juggling act?” He shoved a cigar in his mouth and lit up, sending a curious look at them all.

“Otis, I really wish you wouldn’t smoke those disgusting things,” Lucy said. “Besides, it’s not healthy to do that around a wounded person.”

Grunting, Otis tossed the cigar on the asphalt and ground it out with his boot heel. “Somebody better tell me what the victim was doing here.”

“Exotic dancing,” Lexie finally said.

An ambulance roared up the street and stopped beside them, silencing any further questions Otis might have had. Lexie stood beside Eva and put her arm around her daughter’s quaking shoulders. Lucy came up behind them and patted Lexie on the back.

“It’s going to be OK,” Lexie said, trying to reassure her daughter as much as herself.

While they watched, several attendants hustled
from the emergency vehicle and clustered around Elton. They checked for his vital signs, then started an IV. An old yellow VW bug drove up and parked by the curb across the street. Barnard Savage, wearing his usual uniform of press hat and rumpled suit and cigarette stub hanging from his lip, jumped from the car. He whipped out a camera with an enormous flash and took several photos. Then he took the pencil stub from behind his ear and jotted notes down on a pad, his tongue wetting the tip of the lead every so often.

Just as the ambulance team carefully shifted Elton onto a stretcher, Gabe arrived in his Weston-ville Police squad car. He exited his vehicle, a concerned expression on his face as he took long strides toward Savage and spoke with him in a gruff voice. Savage gestured wildly, apparently trying to justify his presence.

Otis, always one to join in, hurried over to stand beside Gabe and Savage, no doubt adding his two cents to the conversation. He hitched up his pants as he pointed an accusing finger at the reporter.

“Is he going to be all right?” Lexie asked one of the ambulance attendants standing nearby.

“Can’t say for sure,” he said. “Check with the hospital in a while. They’ll be able to give you a condition update.”

The attendants lifted Elton’s stretcher and loaded it onto the ambulance. Lights flashing and siren blaring, it headed for the Westonville Hospital.

Lexie shuddered.
Please let him be all right. Please. He’s so young.

Lexie hadn’t noticed before, but her rubbernecking neighbors were out in force. Standing in bathrobes on their doorsteps, they whispered amongst themselves, craning their necks to see what had happened.

“Show’s over, folks,” Otis called out to them, his face set in hard lines. “You all go on back inside.” He turned to Lexie, Lucy and Eva. “You three, don’t go anywhere. Stay put.”

Gabe walked over to his squad car and talked into the microphone of police radio for a bit. Lexie could hear the garbled responses and static blaring back at him. Then he put on gloves and walked around the crime scene bagging bits and pieces of evidence and taking pictures.

While the detective went about his work, Otis came over with his notebook and wet the tip of his pencil. He asked the women several questions, scribbling furiously to document the information they provided. He had just finished the grilling session when the detective walked over. He’d removed his gloves and put his camera back in the squad car.

Lexie took an uneven breath. Gabe wore a tweed jacket, a white button down shirt, jeans, and a cowboy hat. Man, he looked good. Despite the confusion and shock of the evening, she felt an attraction, complete with a warm flush in her cheeks.

Here I go again!

Why in the world she would react to Gabe like this at such a time? What was wrong with her? Besides, he was the enemy. He still believed she might be connected to Whitehead’s murder. It was absurd for her to be thinking like that about him.

Lexie’s head began to hammer. Why was this happening? Why were people always getting hurt around her?

Gabe tipped his hat to them. “Are you ladies all right?”

“Yes,” Lexie answered. “A little shaken up, but fine.”

“Good. Otis told me there was a celebration going on when the incident occurred?”

Eva nodded. “My mom’s birthday. And then this happened. It’s just awful.”

“Who was there?” Gabe asked.

“The three of us,” Lexie answered. “Also my Aunt Gladys and her friend Winfield Hightower. He’s inside getting her calmed down. She’s pretty upset.”

“I can imagine,” Gabe said. “Did you see anyone or anything out of the ordinary?”

“Nothing,” Lucy said. “By the time we all came outside, Eva’s young man was lying in the road.”

“He’s not my young man, Aunt Lucy,” Eva spat. “He’s just a friend.”

Lucy shrugged.

“Detective Stevenson,” Lexie said, her face getting warmer. It would be best to use a more formal tone with him. Otherwise, Sister Lucy would start planning
a spring wedding. “What can we do to help?”

“Nothing, really. Just be ready to answer any more questions we may have later.”

“Do you think the person who hit Elton might be the same person who killed Whitehead?”
And attacked me,
she thought silently.

“It’s hard to say,” Otis answered.

Gabe folded his arms across his chest. “Otis is right. We’ll have to do some more investigating before we know that for sure. But it is possible.”

“Lord have mercy,” Lucy said.

“If you want to pray, sis,” Lexie said, “now would be a good time.”

On cue, Lucy clenched her eyes shut and clasped her hands reverently.

“May I speak with you privately for a minute, Lexie?” Gabe asked.

Still praying, Lucy opened one eye and glanced curiously at Lexie.

Lexie ignored her. “Sure,” she told the detective. She patted her daughter’s arm reassuringly. “I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

Gabe and Lexie walked over by an ancient elm tree and a patch of rosebushes covered with worn and faded autumn blooms. “I didn’t want to say this around your sister and your daughter because I didn’t want to concern them.”

Lexie froze. “What?”

“I’m worried. I think you’re in danger.”

“I’ve figured that much for a long time now.
What am I supposed to do?”