Heartache Motel: Three Interconnected Mystery Novellas (Henery Press Mystery Novellas) (5 page)

SEVEN

We watched a continuous stream of impersonators take the stage until they all blended into one big conglomerate. I kept an eye on Daniel. If he left, I was going to follow him, but he seemed content to hang around the bar, watching one mind-numbing performance after another.

Around ten, Ma ran out of steam. Stoner Joe had long ago pulled out a popcorn ball from somewhere and munched his way to getting baked. Now, he incessantly stroked one of the braided strings on his tuque like it was a talisman.

Ma stood up and bent at the waist, first one way, then the other as she worked the kinks out of her back. “Well, it’s time to hit the rack, gang. You kids stay here, I’ll be fine going up on my own.”

“Forget it,” Roxy said. “There aren’t enough Rock-a-hulas in the world to make me sit through one more lip-synching impersonator.”

Stoner Joe blinked at us. “Dudes, I can’t feel my legs.”

Ax raised a brow. “I need to put him to bed.”

Together Ax and I helped Joe from his seat.

By that time, people were filing out of the bar. The lobby was crowded and the elevator filled up quickly. Ma, Ax, and Joe squeezed on board.

“I’ll take the stairs again,” I said.

Roxy popped her gum. “Ditto.”

Once more, she and I trudged up the stairs. But on the first flight, my foot landed weird and I twisted my ankle. “Shit.”

Roxy grabbed my arm, kept me from falling to my knees. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I think so.” I sat on a step and took off my sock and tennis shoe. I prodded at my ankle and foot. Nothing seemed broken, but it was starting to swell.

“Can you stand?” Roxy asked.

With her help and grabbing onto the railing, I tried, but sharp pain bit through me. “This is the suckiest vacay ever.” I sank back onto my butt.

She whipped out her phone. “Let me text Ax to come help.”

Within a minute, I heard the metal door on the floor above us slam shut. Ax scurried down the stairs. He held an ice bucket in one hand. “You okay, Rose? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“No, I just twisted it. It’ll be fine.” I swung an arm around each of their shoulders and limped up the remaining steps.

At the third floor doorway, Ax stopped by the vending machine alcove. “Let me get some ice, so we can keep the swelling down.”

“Dig deep in there, Ax,” I said. “You don’t know who touched that ice before you.”

Roxy propped me in a corner. “Damn, I am so ready to go home. Or at least find a decent hotel.”

Ax poked his head out of the doorway. “I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon. I just found Ron, guys. He’s dead.”

I crowded past him, hopping on one foot. Roxy wedged in beside me. I stood like a flamingo, staring into the ice machine. With a ring of purple bruising around his neck, it appeared Ron had been strangled.

He was also naked.

EIGHT

Detective Schultz, a man who’d eaten mustard earlier in the day—as indicated by the yellow blotch on his
Frosty the Snowman
tie—stood at the end of the bed, where I sat with my foot propped up on three pillows.

Axton sat with Ma on her bed, while Roxy perched next to me. She was all nervous tension, smacking her gum and bobbing her foot. The detective had been grilling us for an hour.

After finding the body, Ax had called the police. As Rox and I turned to leave the vending room, a silver flash caught my eye. On the threshold of the alcove, lay a silver charm. The same charm I’d seen on every drag queen in the motel.

“That wasn’t here last night,” I said, pointing to the broken heart.

“We can leave it for the police,” Ax said.

Roxy took one look back at Ron and visibly shivered. “Let’s get out of here.”

They helped me stagger back to The Roustabout
room where Ma sat up in bed, clicking the remote control. “Can’t get this darn thing to work,” she said, slapping it against her palm. “What happened to you, toots?”

“Twisted ankle.”

“And we’ve got some bad news,” Roxy said, settling me into the bed and shoving pillows beneath my foot.

“We found Ron, Ma,” I said. “He’s dead. I’m so sorry.”

“Dead? Did he have a heart attack or something?”

“Looks like he was strangled,” Ax said. “We found him stuffed in the ice machine.”

Ma gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. After a moment, she took a deep breath. “Poor little Ron. Who would want to hurt him?”

“The guy he was arguing with last night threatened to kill him,” I said.

Ax went to the bathroom and returned with a cold, wet towel. He wrapped it around my ankle.

Roxy walked to the window and glanced out. “I wish we could get the hell out of here.”

Then Detective Schultz entered our lives. And he’d been asking us questions ever since.

Finally at around two a.m., he wound down. “Since y’all are tourists, I’ll need you to sign your statements, but you can go home tomorrow.”

“Before you do,” said a voice from the doorway, “I’d like to ask you a few questions first.”

I whipped my head away from Schultz and stared at Daniel the Impersonator.

Instead of dripping moonlight-and-magnolia charm, his southern accent held a ring of authority. He’d finally removed the sunglasses, wig, and sideburns. The unfortunate jumpsuit, however, remained in place. His denim blue eyes found mine. Although his light brown hair was matted down from the wig, it didn’t detract from his good looks. No doubt about it, Daniel was a flat-out hot tamale.

He stepped into the room and flashed a badge from a chain around his neck. “I’m Special Agent Daniel Teager.”

I’d been right not to trust his homespun, southern charm. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

“Since when are the Fibbies interested in a dead Elvis impersonator?” Schultz asked.

“I’ve been undercover here for the last few days,” Daniel said. “I’m hunting down a cache of stolen jewels.”

Roxy elbowed me in the ribs. “The gems on his cape couldn’t be real, huh?” she whispered.

Daniel ignored us as he spoke with Schultz. “I have reason to believe that Ron Michaels, real name Aaron Brady, had them in his possession before his death.”

Schultz dipped his head in a curt nod. “Then I’d like you on the team, Special Ag—”

“Just Daniel. Or Teager if you prefer. And I’ll be taking over this investigation.”  He turned his attention to the rest of us. “I’d like to hear your statements again. Starting with you, Rose.” He glanced down at my swollen foot. “Do y’all mind if we have a bit of privacy?”

Roxy hopped off the bed and jetted out of the room. Cops made her nervous. That misspent youth coming back to haunt her.

Ax offered his arm to help Ma stand. “We can hang in my room.” He bent toward me. “Joe’s probably hiding in the bathtub, thinking the cops are here to search him.”

Once they’d all left the room, Daniel sat on the other bed. “Your friends are certainly colorful.”

My foot ached and I was exhausted. “I knew there was something weird about you from the start. You’re too inquisitive to be an Elvis. And I’m not sure what I can tell you that I didn’t tell Schultz twenty-seven different times.”

“You overheard an argument last night. Tell me about that conversation.”

“One of the men shouting was Ron, I’m sure of it. We actually met him in a different hotel last night. He seemed like a really nice man. And he was kind to Ma.”

“He was still a criminal.”

So was Sullivan. Perhaps I was developing a fondness for them, because I felt really sad that Ron was dead. Even worse, that we’d found him shoved in an ice machine. He may have been a jewel thief, but he deserved better.

“Who was Aaron arguing with?” Daniel asked.

“I don’t know, but he used Aaron’s real name. I didn’t recognize that second voice. But Ron said he’d put his ass on the line. What did he mean?”

Daniel kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to give me a crumb.

“Fine,” I said. “They talked about a deal. The other man said if the deal fell through, he’d kill Ron with his bare hands.” I thought back to the bruises around Ron’s neck. Looked like his friend had made good on the threat.

“Anything else you can tell me?” He watched me with cop eyes, the kind that stare at you like you’re lying. Even when you’re telling the truth.

“Yeah.” I took a deep breath and tried to arrange my thoughts. The ankle pain was lessening, but my brain was a little fuzzy from lack of sleep.

“We met Ron last night at a hotel down the street from Graceland. He had on this cape encrusted with gems. Every color you can imagine. I noticed a spot where a couple of jewels were missing. He freaked out, then he took off. I think he was talking about the missing jewels to the other guy in the stairwell.”

“What else?”

I didn’t really want to tell him that Roxy and I had broken into Ron’s room, but our fingerprints were all over the place. So I fudged a little. “When Ron didn’t show up for his performance tonight, Roxy and I checked out his room to make sure he was all right. The door was unlocked so we went inside. I found one of the missing diamonds under the bed. I put it on the dresser with the drag queen headshots.”

Daniel didn’t blink. “You went into the victim’s room and searched under his bed? Why would you do that?”

I lifted one shoulder and kept mum.

“I did a little research on you, Rose Strickland. You’ve been involved in a couple of murder cases. How does a diner waitress get herself involved in so many crimes?”

That was actually a legitimate question. I’d gotten myself into a few messy murders—mostly trying to help out friends. My insatiable curiosity took a little credit, too.

Daniel propped his elbows on his thighs. “The official police reports said you were very helpful in apprehending the killers. But let me make one thing clear.” He leaned closer, his gaze holding mine. “I don’t need that kind of help. Understood?”

Instead of peppering him with all the questions swirling through my mind, I nodded. “Got it.” Of course his lecture wasn’t going to stop me. Ron might not have been citizen of the year, but he’d been strangled. And I’d found the body dumped in an ice machine at a rundown motel. If I could help find the person responsible, I totally would.

“After I talk to your friends, you’re free to leave,” he said. “Go back to Missouri and stay out of trouble.”

What Special Agent Hot Shit didn’t seem to understand was that I never went looking for trouble. But I never walked away from it either.

NINE

We were finally deemed free to leave around three a.m. Ax, Roxy, and Ma sat on one bed and eyed me.

“We have to find Ron’s killer,” Ma said. “He was a good egg.”

I nodded. “Agreed.”

Roxy sighed and popped her gum. “Fine. But don’t you want to get home by Christmas morning? And by that I mean, how long are we going to stay in this motel hell?”

That was true. I needed to be home by tomorrow morning. But still…I felt an obligation to right a wrong. Damn sense of justice.

“When I overheard Ron arguing with his partner or whatever, they said something about a deal. Ron was obviously working with someone and that someone killed him, took the jewels, and is trying to sell them. We can sleuth all day, see what we can uncover. If we leave by tonight and don’t stop fifteen times,” I shot Roxy a pointed glance, “we can make it home by morning.”

Ax settled back against the headboard and began tapping away on his tablet.

“I’ll see what I can find about this Aaron Brady guy. There should be a news article about missing jewels somewhere.”

“Where should we start?” Roxy asked.

“Well, since Ron had pics of all the drag queens, why don’t we search the office? My ankle’s feeling better, I should be okay. And Shelley Fabulous said all the queens came from the same talent agency. Maybe you can check that out, Ax?”

“I’m on it,” he said, not looking up from his screen.

“I’ll come with you,” Ma said. “You might need a diversion.”

I stood and tested my ankle. Although it was still very tender, I could walk on it. But my foot was too swollen for tennis shoes, so Roxy loaned me her Hello Kitty slippers.

We left Axton in the room and walked down the hall together, parting ways with Ma after she stepped into the shoddy elevator. Our plan was that she would harass the front desk clerk, lure him up to our room with complaints of cold water, while Roxy and I slipped inside the office and scoped it out.

Ma hadn’t changed out of her robe. Before the doors closed, she adjusted her glasses and sniffed. “Be careful girls. There’s a killer on the loose.”

“You, too,” I said.

Roxy and I hit the stairs. I took it slow and easy. That elevator was such a piece of crap, we figured Ma would get to the lobby about the same time we did.

When we made it to the ground floor, Roxy and I flanked either side of the metal door. Then she sneaked a peek out of the square, safety glass window.

“Well, crap,” she said.

“What?”

She wagged her thumb at the door. “Have a look.”

I took a turn at the window. In the lobby, a mob of people—motel guests, Elvises out of their costumes, and drag queens gathered in groups. Riled up because of the murder, no doubt.

“Well, there go our plans for searching the office,” Roxy said.

I lifted my brows. “You could always pull the fire alarm. Worked in grade school.”

“That might have worked when you were eight, but I think you’ll need a better plan than that. With our luck, the cops would come right back.”

I heard the elevator bell ding. “We’d better intercept Ma.”

We filed into the lobby which was filled with a cacophony of loud voices. Occasional words rose above the others, mostly ‘murder’ and ‘naked’.

Ma walked off the elevator, gawking at the crowd. “Well, hells bells. So much for that.”

I glanced around, noticed Man-Margret out of costume. Wrapped in a blue, silky robe, his head was covered with red fuzz. While he looked completely different when dressed as a woman, that telltale mole above his upper lip gave him away. “Ma, go distract Man-Margret while Roxy and I check out his room.”

She grinned. “You got it, toots.”

Roxy moved over to one corner to call Ax. He could get Man-Margret’s room number in his sleep. I retrieved my cell from my purse and handed it to Ma. “You know how to work this, right?”

Giving me a haughty glare, she grabbed it out of my hand. “I’m sure I can manage. What’d I do, just fall off a turnip truck?”

“Sorry. Call Roxy if Man leaves the lobby?”

We left her to it and climbed back in the elevator, slowly chugging upward to the sixth floor. According to Ax, Man-Margret’s real name was Kevin Adams and he listed his permanent address at the motel.

I hobbled behind Roxy, who had the door popped open before I even reached her. We slipped inside, locked the door, and flipped on the light.

Ah, the
King Creole
room as evidenced by the movie poster and colorful, badly painted Mardi Gras masks scattered along the pink walls. God, this motel’s decorator should be slapped with a cease and desist.

“Very tidy,” Roxy said.

“Very.” The bed covers were neatly folded down. Five red wigs on dummies lined up along the top of the dresser, starting with the shortest flip and graduating in lengths to longest wavy ‘do.     

I opted to check out the bathroom while Roxy searched the dresser and closets. I peeked behind the shower curtain and the toilet tank. Then I opened the gargantuan makeup trunk. Zebra print, telescope handle and wheels. Unfortunately, it contained nothing but actual makeup.

I poked my head out the door. “No luck. You?”

She shook her head. “But her outfits are crazy awesome.”

I switched off the light and walked toward her. “You’re supposed to be looking for jewels or proof of murder and thievery.”

She sighed and fingered a blue cashmere sweater. “Fine.” She sank to the floor and searched the shoes. “His feet are freaking boats. You check the dresser.”