Deadly Disco in Las Vegas: A Humorous Tiffany Black Mystery (Tiffany Black Mysteries Book 6) (5 page)

The Peacock Club is one of the more “boutique” strip clubs in Vegas, which means it’s very slightly off-Strip, and has only a couple dozen exquisite-looking girls working there at a time, instead of a couple of hundred. The rates are also higher, and the clientele are mostly wealthy locals, and a few out-of-town businessmen.

“Do you have your emergency survival pack?” Ian asked as we drove.

I nodded. Stashed in the trunk of my old Honda Accord was the emergency survival pack Ian insisted I carry with me at all times. I didn’t quite see the point of the survival pack, but after watching a couple of zombie movies, Ian had insisted that I keep one with me—a large duffel bag packed with a change of clothes, a blanket, dried food, medicine, and a special packet of zombie-repellant powder that Ian had purchased off eBay. Ian had also made me buy some gas masks recently and add them to the survival kit. The masks were large black affairs, the type people wore when dealing with nuclear fallout. Ian insisted that these masks would protect me from airborne “zombie viruses,” whatever those were.

Under the car’s dashboard, I kept some tools of the PI trade — energy bars, bottles of water, binoculars, my gun, my iPod, a couple of Terry Pratchett novels. These were supposed to sustain me through a stakeout or two, and the gun was loaded today as a precaution. I’d probably take it out and put it in my purse if I could, but a lot of places had security which didn’t allow guns indoors.

Ian and I arrived at the Peacock Club in record time and found a parking spot on the side street through which the club’s clientele entered.

When we stepped inside, the darkness hit us like a cold breeze. We walked slowly as our eyes adjusted, and listened to the thump-thump of the low bass-heavy tune that was playing. A lingerie-clad woman danced slowly on the stage, rubbing her body up and down the stripper pole while wearing ridiculous high heels. I wondered how strong her thigh muscles must be to support that kind of activity, and then my cell phone buzzed.

I looked down at the screen—it was my mother, and therefore worth ignoring.

“Aren’t you going to take that call?” Ian said as we headed over to the DJ’s booth. His head was spinning around, trying to take in the sights of all the gorgeous, skimpily clad women at once, and I shook my head no.

“I’d rather not talk to my mom from inside a strip club.”

“I guess that’s a good idea,” Ian said. “I wouldn’t want my parents to know I’m in a strip club. Even though I came here for work. And you practically forced me to come.”

“You look miserable,” I told him as his eyes trailed after a tall blonde wearing white lingerie.

We found Gary, the resident DJ, managing the music in the corner.

Gary and I know each other from a few cases I’ve worked on previously. Most recently, I investigated a Hollywood starlet who led a secret life as a Vegas stripper, and Gary had done his best to help me out.

Gary smiled when he saw us, and we exchanged greetings and caught up on our lives quickly. Gary is the only gay guy in the strip club, and as such, he’s friendly with most of the women who work here.

“Do you know Chloe Dechapelle?” I asked Gary, once we’d disposed of the pleasantries. “She’s supposed to be working here.”

“Sure,” said Gary, nodding. “Petite woman, short blond hair. Has that kind of cute girl-next-door look.”

“Is she around today?” I glanced around. I hadn’t seen any petite blondes so far.

“Called in sick,” said Gary. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s for a case,” I said quickly, not wanting to get her into trouble. “Are you able to get us her home address?”

Gary nodded and made a quick phone call before looking back at us. “Got it for ya. D’you have a pen and paper handy?”

I took down Chloe’s address, thanked Gary and left the dark club, dragging Ian with me.

“A few more minutes,” I said. “And then we finally get to meet this mysterious girlfriend of Josh’s.”

But first, I had to call my mom back. I sat in the parking lot and dialed the number. My mother answered after half a ring.

“Tiffany,” she said. “I just heard. What’re you doing at the Peacock Club? I’m sure you can get a better job somewhere else. Not that exotic dancing doesn’t pay very well, it’s just that—”

I interrupted her before she could go any further. “I’m not here for a job, Mom. I’m here to talk to a suspect.”

There was a split second of silence and then my mom said, “My friend Wendy’s husband—well, her husband’s friend’s brother, actually—he said he saw you walking into the club wearing nothing but a string bikini.”

My mother sounded affronted, as though I didn’t even have the good taste to put on a jacket first.

I looked down at my modest shorts and t-shirt. “I’m not wearing a string bikini,” I assured her.

“You’re not wearing an outfit of some kind?” Mom sounded even more shocked than before. “Your Nanna told me that’s the ‘in’ thing now, dressing up like video game characters without enough clothes on.”

I burst out laughing. “Mom,” I said, between gasps, “you need to stop listening to Nanna. I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and I’m not here to dance. Ian and I were just leaving.”

“Oh.”

I felt a pang of nostalgia as I remembered Nanna telling me about how she and some of her octogenarian friends would come to the Peacock Club for their free Friday lunch buffet. “The girls know to leave us alone,” Nanna had told me. “My girlfriends would rather look at fried shrimp than big tatas.”

“How’s Nanna doing?” I asked Mom.

“Come over for lunch,” she said, “and I’ll tell you.”

“I’m working a case with Ian. We’re really busy.”

“We’re going to have chocolate pudding for dessert.”

That sealed the deal. I hung up, filled Ian in on our lunch plans, and drove over to Chloe’s apartment.

***

Chloe lived on Balzar Avenue, in one of the least reputable areas in Las Vegas. The folks on this street tend to bar their windows with thick, heavy grilles, and arm themselves before opening their doors. I knew that Chloe must make good money as a stripper, so I was a little surprised by her choice of residence.

Chloe lived in a fifties-style brick building, and when Ian and I knocked on the door, a petite blonde wearing a fluffy blue bathrobe answered. Her eyes were watery, her nose red, and she carried a bunch of tissues in one hand. “Who’re you?” she snuffled, peering at Ian and me. Her voice was stuffy, and she looked like she’d rather be in bed.

I explained that we were looking into Josh’s death, and she nodded and invited us in.

The place was a mess inside. The door opened onto the living room, which only had a small love seat and some hard plastic chairs. There was the obligatory small kitchen, with dishes piled up in the sink. Through the open doorway, I could make out the bedroom, and a door that must’ve led to the bathroom. There were used tissues strewn about the living room, and I could see at least two empty tissue boxes lying in the trash.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” Chloe said, settling down on the sofa and blowing her nose. “I’ve been too sick to do anything. It’s horrible being sick when you live by yourself. You never feel lonelier.”

Ian and I made sympathetic noises and stood around awkwardly, staring at her.

“You can sit down,” Chloe said, indicating towards the hard plastic chairs.

“Um,” said Ian. “How long’ve you had this cold?”

“Three days now,” said Chloe. “It’s the flu. Doesn’t go away easily.”

“I can’t catch the flu,” said Ian. “I need to finish watching my
Die Hard
marathon, and it’s no fun when you’ve got flu. Besides, if I get sick, Tiffany won’t let me go with her on her PI work.”

Chloe blinked at Ian slowly. “You’re saying I’ll make you sick?”

Ian spread his arms, indicating the room. “This is a germ fest.”

“Hunh,” said Chloe. “Too bad. Do you want to just leave, then?”

Ian looked at me, and I hesitated. “I can’t get sick either,” I said slowly. “I don’t mean to be rude,” I said to Chloe, “but if I get a cold, I can’t work at the casino, and I’m already in their bad books. I always call in sick when I need to take time off to investigate a case, so they wouldn’t believe me if I ever really
did
get sick.”

“You’re the boy who cried wolf,” Ian told me.

I shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve got much choice.”

“So,” repeated Chloe. She sneezed loudly.

“Bless you,” said Ian and I in unison.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “So, d’you guys wanna leave, or what?”

I shook my head. “No, I’ll take a risk. I don’t like delaying investigations.”

“Actually,” said Ian, “I’ve got an idea. About how we can talk to her without getting sick.”

I looked at Ian inquisitively, and then I followed him out to the car. When we returned, Ian and I were both wearing thick black gas masks.

“Now we can talk to you,” Ian declared, and we sat down opposite Chloe. His voice came out through the mask, sounding deeper and half-muffled.

Chloe looked at us and rolled her eyes. As though I wasn’t feeling ridiculous enough already.

“Are you guys really private investigators?” she said. “Because this is more like one of those candid camera shows, where you try to trick people with funny stuff.”

The mask I wore hid the fact that I was pursing my lips. I was going to apologize for being so silly; but Ian had been right. Better safe than sorry. And channeling my mom, he’d said, “Wouldn’t you rather look silly and not catch a cold?” Like my mom, he’d been right.

Ian said, “Tiffany’s a really good investigator. She’s solved heaps of cases.”

“No, no,” I said modestly, but Ian went on.

“She solved the Ethan Becker murder,” he said, “when the cops got the wrong person. And she’s solved tons more since then. Our last case, this reality TV star was being stalked, and Tiffany found the stalker.”

“Wow,” said Chloe drily. “I guess you’re not as stupid as you look.”

“That’s what people tell me all the time,” Ian said.

I shook my head. “Let’s just get to the questions. I don’t want to bother you any longer than we have to.”

“Thanks,” said Chloe. “What did you want to know about?”

“What was Josh like?” I said. “You’d been with him a while now.”

Chloe shrugged. “He was a great guy. I mean, we were happy together. He loved me, I guess.” She sniffed. “And I loved him.”

I nodded and said gently, “It must be difficult for you.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Chloe. “But I guess I need to keep going. And you need to do your thing, so here you are, wearing your mask.”

“Right.” I chose to ignore the mask comment. “How was Josh with other people?”

“Like I said, he was great. Really nice to everyone.”

“Including his employees?”

Chloe narrowed her eyes and looked at me carefully. “I guess. Why?”

“What about Amelia, his assistant?”

Chloe sighed. “You know, I never really trusted her, to be honest. I don’t know why. I mean, she was a good worker, otherwise Josh and David wouldn’t hire her, but she seemed kind of smarmy. I always thought she had a crush on Josh. She was always batting her eyes at him.”

“Did they ever have an affair?”

Chloe shrugged. “I don’t know. If they did, it was a secret. But they might have. I mean, Josh always liked other women. I don’t see why he wouldn’t sleep with Amelia since she clearly was into him.”

I frowned and made a mental note of this. David had tried to be helpful, but perhaps he’d misconstrued Josh’s relationship with Amelia. Maybe this was why Amelia was so upset by Josh’s death that she would no longer work at Deadly Disco.

“Didn’t it bother you?” said Ian. “That he was always with these other women?”

Chloe shrugged. “Not really. He did his thing. He wasn’t a knight in shining armor, but I guess we got along. And what more do you need from a relationship?”

“A ring?” suggested Ian. “All women want a ring.”

“Not all women,” I reminded him. “Mary didn’t remarry.”

Chloe nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I didn’t need a ring.”

“And what did you think of Mary?” I asked.

Chloe shrugged. “Josh was pretty close with her and her son, but I never actually saw them that often.”

“And how about David, have you met him?”

Chloe tilted her head and thought back. “Maybe once or twice. Josh and I used to hang out with each other, not other people so much.”

I nodded. “Did Josh seem different in any way before he died?”

Chloe blew her nose and leaned back against the sofa cushions. “I don’t know,” she said. “He seemed his usual self. But he’d just had a fight with David, I think. Because he wanted to invest in Taylor’s concierge business idea, and David told him not to do it. Said there were already too many concierge businesses and it’s hard to break into the industry without contacts.”

“Josh told you all this?” I looked at Chloe, surprised. This was the first I was hearing about it.

Chloe nodded. “Josh was really upset at David, and he told me that. I mean, it was his own money, but he kept saying that he wished his business partner had a bit more faith in his son.”

I sighed. “Did Josh have any other problems with David?”

“I wouldn’t call this a problem,” said Chloe. “This was just an argument.”

I nodded. “Right. But maybe they were going off in different business directions.”

Chloe looked at me, surprised, as though the idea had just occurred to her. “David does get a third of Josh’s estate,” she said slowly. “And perhaps they wanted to do different business things. But I think, really, Mary’s being a bit paranoid. I’m sure Josh’s death was just an accident.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But we said we’d look into it. Did you have any reason to think David wanted to do different business things?”

Chloe looked off into the distance, thinking. Finally, she said, “I think Josh mentioned once that David was talking about dissolving the partnership and investing separately. David wanted to buy some strip clubs and Josh didn’t. But they couldn’t dissolve the partnership because David didn’t have enough money to buy Josh out.”

Ian and I exchanged a glance through our black gas masks. If David wanted out, he’d certainly gotten an out now.

“This is interesting,” said Ian. “I guess we should ask David about this.”

“Do you have any more questions for me?” Chloe said. “I think I’m gonna go take a nap. The cold medicine’s making me sleepy.”

I said, “I think we’re almost done. Maybe we’ll actually have time to get back home and make some cupcakes.”

“I love cupcakes,” said Chloe. “But they make you fat.”

I nodded. “I know. The casino I work at now is going to introduce weight controls, and I might not make the cut if I keep eating cupcakes every day.”

Chloe shrugged. “You can always go work at a different casino, right?”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “I suppose I could. It’s just that I’ve gotten used to working at the Treasury and I can’t imagine looking for a new job. Working at a new place.”

I’d always enjoyed my job at the Treasury. I couldn’t imagine a future where I worked somewhere else. Change was no fun at all.

Ian said, “Why do you live in this place? Don’t strippers make lots of money?”

Chloe shrugged. “It’s not bad money, but I’m thirty. I can probably only do this for a year or two more, tops. And it’s actually not huge money, you know? I’m too old for this already.”

“What’re you doing once you quit?”

Chloe shrugged. “It’s not like the job comes with a retirement package. That’s why I live here and try to save some cash.”

“Do you have enough cash saved?” Ian asked. “Maybe you could go to college and get a degree.”

Chloe threw her head back and laughed, her voice throaty because of her cold. “I’m way past the age to learn something new,” she said. “I started studying business in college, and I’ve danced for enough businessmen to have learned something from there. Maybe I’ll start a business or something. Maybe a small café.”

Ian nodded. “That’s a good idea,” he said. “Thanks for your help.”

The two of us headed back to the car and removed our masks.

“That was interesting,” said Ian. “We learned that Amelia probably
was
sleeping with Josh after all.”

“Maybe Chloe was just being jealous.”

Ian said, “She didn’t seem like the jealous type.”

I nodded. “I guess we’ll find out when we see Amelia. And we’ll need to ask David about him dissolving his partnership with Josh.”

I found the address of the restaurant Amelia was working at, and Ian and I drove off, wondering if we’d learn anything new from Amelia. I had to remind myself that Amelia might’ve been the one who killed Josh, but that was hard to believe, given that the door to Josh’s office had been wiped clean of all prints other than Amelia’s. Which meant that whoever had killed Josh had wiped the prints, and Amelia had walked in afterwards.