Corpse Suzette (26 page)
Chapter
“W
hat is this place?” Abigail
asked as Savannah ushered her into the tiny cubbyhole called “The Oasis.”
“Usually, it’s your
ordinary, run-of-the-mill bar,” Savannah told her as she guided her toward the
corner of the dark little room where a slightly elevated platform was
surrounded by a circle of chairs and tables. “But not on Friday night.”
“What happens on Friday
night?”
“You’ll see.”
Savannah pulled out a
chair, and Abigail sat down on it, facing the platform.
“Actually, I have someplace
I have to be in an hour or so,” Abby said, glancing at her watch. “I already
arranged for somebody to pick me up here and—”
“Sh-h-h-h...” Savannah
said, finger to her lips. “It’s going to start pretty soon. They’re usually
quite punctual with the show.”
“What show?”
Savannah just grinned and
motioned to the waitress. “Two glasses of your house white here,” she told her.
Then, to Abby she said, “The first time I saw this, a few months ago, I was
blown away. I think you’ll really like it.”
“What is it?”
“Belly dancing. The real
thing, not some cheap, sleazy, Hollywood imitation.”
“Belly dancing?!” Abby’s
nostrils flared. “You brought me to a stupid strip club?”
“Not even close. Sit still
and watch.”
As if on cue, the room’s
lights dimmed, and a soft blue light flooded the platform stage in front of
them.
Music began, a slow,
sensual drumbeat that slowly increased in tempo. Other exotic sounding
instruments joined in, and the crowd began to clap in time to the rhythm.
Abby leaned over to
Savannah and said in her ear, “If you think I’m going to sit here and watch
some skinny gal with boob implants shake her stuff in my face, you’ve got
another—”
Savannah nudged her and
motioned to the door. “Look.”
Through the front door of
the place came a dancer. Slowly, she made her way through the crowd to the
platform, pausing here and there to drape a brightly colored chiffon scarf
around someone’s neck, to place a kiss on a forehead, to trail her fingertips
along someone’s shoulder or tweak somebody’s hair.
Her movements were light
and playful, energetic and bouncy, as she moved onto the stage and continued to
sway to the lively beat.
With their seat next to the
stage, Savannah and Abby had a full view of the woman. She was middle-aged and
full-figured, more than a little overweight according to society’s current
standard. But she was exquisite.
Her costume was a cloud of
swirling scarves of every color that floated around her when she moved. Tucked
here, gathered there, they moved along with her, accenting her every sway and
shimmy.
As she moved around the
stage, smiling down at individual members of her audience and dropping the
scarves among them, she looked like a young girl at play, lighthearted,
carefree.
Savannah leaned close to
the transfixed Abigail and whispered in her ear, “A real belly dance is the
story of a woman’s life,” she said. “This part represents her girlhood. She’s
clothed in innocence and happy-go-lucky, the way we all start out.”
As the veils were dropped,
more and more of the woman’s body was revealed—her arms, encircled with golden
bracelets that jingled when she moved, her legs that, while hardly slender,
were muscular and obviously very strong as her skirt parted to reveal and then
hide them, her abdomen that rolled and moved with the beat of the music that was
slowly changing.
The tempo slowed, the
volume increased, and the tone became less playful.
The dancer reached down to
a nearby table, and someone in the crowd handed her a couple of candles.
Holding one candle in each
hand she continued to dance, moving them in circles under her arms, then over
her head. Their light illuminated her skin, causing it to glow like living,
breathing, fluid gold.
With unbelievable grace,
the woman bent backward, her long, dark hair sweeping the floor. Still holding
the candles, she sank to her knees on the stage as the other instruments faded
away, leaving only the drumbeat as accompaniment.
From her kneeling position,
she lowered herself straight backward, until she was lying on her back... all
the time still swaying and rolling to the beat.
“What’s she doing now?”
Abigail whispered.
“This part represents the
travails of womanhood. The difficulties and pain we all encounter that change
us from girls into women.”
The dancer placed the
candles on her belly and by flexing her muscles, caused them to move in time
with the drum. Her arms stretched upward, she seemed to be reaching, striving,
grasping for something just beyond her reach, then grabbing it and pulling it
toward her.
Lifting the candles from
her abdomen, she held them in her hands again and managed to roll across the
stage, holding them level all the while, managing, keeping everything in
balance.
Slowly she rose to her feet
and handed the candles back to the„ crowd.
The drum beat faster and
faster, and her movements matched the tempo, shaking, swaying, and shimmying,
until her body glistened with the sweat of extreme exertion. Just when it
seemed she surely couldn’t continue, the music paused, then switched back to
the original playful, happy song.
But this time, as the woman
danced off the stage and through the crowd, interacting once again, there was a
distinct difference in her movements. She was stronger, more confident, more
decisive in her motions.
“See,” Savannah said,
“she’s still happy, still joyful, but with all the authority of a grown woman
who’s been through the fire and emerged whole.”
Abigail nodded as they
watched the dancer bow to her audience —who responded with wild applause—then
disappear out the door.
“She’s beautiful!” Abby
said, her eyes sparkling, her face flushed. “She’s so, so, so...”
“I know.”
Abby shook her head in
disbelief. “And she’s not even skinny.”
“Or especially young.”
“I’d say she’s downright
plump. But she’s so graceful, and look at them... they love her!”
“Of course they do,”
Savannah replied. “She’s courageous enough to let her spirit shine through, to
express her joy and pride in herself through movement and music right here in
front of everyone. And she allows the rest of us to feel it too when we watch
her. That’s quite a gift.”
Abigail nodded
thoughtfully. “It
is.
For her
and {ox
us.” She turned to Savannah
and smiled, then gave her a hearty hug. “Thank you so much. I’ll never forget
her... or you, for bringing me here.”
Savannah returned the
embrace. “Miss Abigail, you’re pretty darned unforgettable yourself.”
“Now,” Abby jumped up from
her chair and glanced at her watch, “if you don’t mind, I have a date. He
should be arriving here any minute now.” She glanced toward the door. “Hey,
there he is now.”
Savannah turned toward the
entrance and was surprised to see a smiling Jeremy Lawrence standing there,
looking as gorgeous as ever in a pale blue silk shirt and navy slacks. He was
holding a red rose in one hand. He spotted them right away and headed in their
direction.
“Oh...” Savannah gulped.
“Oh, I didn’t... I mean... wow! You go, girl!”
Abby laughed. “He’s taking
me to Santa Tesla Island to look at the lighthouse.”
Savannah glanced at her own
watch. “But it’s almost nine o’clock. You’ll barely even make it out there
before you have to turn around and come back. The last ferry leaves there
around eleven, you know.”
“I know.” Abby smiled,
reached for the grinning Jeremy and gave him a lusty kiss on the lips. “And
with any luck, we’ll miss it... just like you and Dirk.”
The two of them hurried
away, leaving Savannah standing there with a sappy grin on her face and a warm
feeling in her heart. “Well, hopefully not
exactly
like me and Dirk,”
she said.
“
Bon voyage
.”
The next day, Savannah and
Tammy sat next to each other on Savannah’s sofa, looking through the latest
Victoria’s Secret catalogue, which had just arrived in the morning’s mail.
“I loaned Abby my cell
phone,” Tammy said with a slight pout. “I’ve called her four times. You’d think
she’d at least pick up and tell me she’s okay over there on that island.”
Savannah smiled. “She’s
fine. She’ll come up for air eventually.”
Someone knocked on the
front door and Savannah yelled, “Who is it?”
“The big bad wolf.”
“Come in, Dirk,” she yelled
back. “Use your key.”
He entered, wearing a
contented, peaceful smile.
“You must have just busted
somebody,” Savannah said, looking up from her catalogue. “You have that
all’s-right-with-the-world look on your face.”
“I just heard that Loco
Roco’s back in for at least another three years.”
“I knew it was something
like that.”
He glanced over to see what
they were looking at. “What’re you two doing there?”
“Ordering new undies,”
Savannah said with a chuckle. “Wanna help?”
"No.”
“You sure?”
He grinned. “I’ll take the
catalogue home with me when you’re done with it though.”
Tammy snatched it up and
held it to her chest. “No way, you perv. We’re going to be ordering for weeks.
We’ve got money to spend. Lots and lots of money.”
“Yeah,” Savannah said.
“Clare Du Bois came by earlier and dropped off a really nice check for us. The
money that Myrna embezzled, it goes back to Suzette’s estate, and Clare’s her
beneficiary. She wanted to reward us. So we let her.”
“Must be nice to be a
civilian,” he grumbled, “and be able to accept a reward.” He glanced up and saw
Diamante and Cleopatra sitting on top of the bookcase. “What’s up with the
cats?”
“Clare brought Sammy over
with her. She’s adopted him. The kitties are still protesting.”
“How long are you going to
be doing... that?” He pointed at the catalogue.
“All day long and into the
night,” Savannah replied. “Why do you ask?”
“I just heard they’re
releasing Jake the Snake this afternoon.”
“No way! But you just
locked him up last year!”
“Actually, it was three
years ago. Time flies when you’re having fun... or getting old.”
“You gonna go watch him?”
Dirk smiled. “Oh yeah. I
figure he’ll head right back to his old lady’s house and beat her up again.
It’s just a matter of time before the call goes out on a domestic over there
and I want to be the first to respond.”
“Need company?”
“No, I don’t need nobody.”
“Oh, right. Mr. Macho. Do
you want company?”
“Well, I don’t know. I
guess you could come along if you really wanna. You got any more of those pecan
chocolate chip cookies?”
