Heartache Motel: Three Interconnected Mystery Novellas (Henery Press Mystery Novellas) (6 page)

I speedily dug through the first two drawers. “You should see his bras. Like torpedoes.” In the third drawer, I found the falsies that went with them along with a few male garments of jeans and t-shirts.

Roxy’s phone buzzed. “Yeah? Shit.” She rose quickly and grabbed my sleeve, pulling me along. “Ma tried to distract him, but he gave her the slip a few minutes ago. She lost sight of him.”

I toddled out of the room as fast as I could, my sore ankle protesting with every step. Roxy reached back and shut the door just as the elevator bell chimed. Man-Margret stepped off and appeared slightly startled at the sight of us.

Roxy and I walked nonchalantly—well, I limped—down the hall and after we passed him, I breathed a sigh of relief. We were almost to the elevator when his voice stopped us.

“Hey, you two aren’t staying on this floor,” he said. “I remember putting you on three.”

I slowly turned to face him. Roxy shot me a panicked look before doing the same.

“We’re looking for our grandma,” I said. “She wanders off sometimes. Maybe you’ve seen her? Crazy hair.” I pointed at my own.

“Huge glasses.” Roxy circled her eyes with both hands.

He frowned. “Right. I saw her down in the lobby. She keeps complaining about the lack of hot water.”

I clutched my chest. “Whew, what a relief. With the cops here and the murder…”

“Yeah, what have you heard about the dead guy?” Roxy asked.

He held up one hand. “Management says we’re not at liberty to discuss the matter and we apologize for any disturbance.” He rambled through his little speech like he’d said it a million times. “As a thank you for understanding, you may pick up your voucher for a free cocktail at the front desk.” He whipped his key from his pocket and scampered into his room before we could utter another word.

“That was a close one,” I whispered.

Roxy nodded. “Quick thinking about the search for Ma. Even with a gimp ankle, you’re bringing your A-game.”

“They don’t call me Rose ‘A-game’ Strickland for nothing.”

TEN

In the lobby, we found Ma in the middle of a group of gyrating men, singing
Deck the Halls
. Roxy almost had to drag her away, kicking and caroling to the side of the room next to the dusty Christmas tree.

“Sorry,” Ma said. “The Elvises needed someone to sing harmony. I got caught up in the moment. What did you find out?”

“Nothing,” I said. “And my ankle’s hurting again.”

“Well, why don’t you girls go upstairs and get a little shuteye. I’m going to stay down here and ask a few questions.”

I shook my head. “Not a good idea. There’s a killer on the loose, remember?”

“You know, he could be long gone by now,” Roxy said. “Why would he stick around?”

“I don’t know, but he could be one of the impersonators,” I said.

Ma shook her head. “No, hon. If there’s one thing I know, it’s people. These Elvises are all right. And I’m going to stay, so head on up to bed and I’ll see you at breakfast.”

I hated leaving her, but she was going to do what she wanted. Besides, my ankle was killing me. “Fine, but keep my phone. Call if you see anything suspicious.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now skedaddle, you two.”

When we got back to the room
,
Ax glanced up. “Got some info on your missing jewels.  According to a newspaper article, an elderly socialite, Rebecca Farnsworth, hosted a party in Jackson, Mississippi last week. Charity affair. Governor, sport stars, local celebs. Her jewels were locked in a vault. When she went to wear them a couple of days later, they were missing.”

I curled up on the empty bed. “Ron said he put his ass on the line. Maybe he’s the one who stole them?”

“Makes sense,” Roxy said, flopping down next to me. “But where does this partner come in?”

Ax took a long pull on his can of Red Bull. “The reporter doesn’t state it directly, but the article hints that the cops suspect someone on the inside.”

I raised my brows. “I need to get down to the lobby, start talking to people and try to find the other voice. Surely the queens have to be involved somehow.”

“Or the talent agency does,” Ax said.

“Rose, you need to rest your foot for a few and I need a couple hours of beauty sleep.” Roxy turned on her side and clutched the pillow between her hands. “Ax, will you wake us up?”

“Yep.”

Time was ticking away, but between the pain in my ankle and having zero sleep the night before, I might do better after a small nap.

Two hours later, Ax didn’t have to wake us. Stoner Joe had wandered to our room and tapped my head until I opened my eyes.

“Rosette. I had the strangest dream that cops were here asking about Elvis on Ice. Like, I saw that show with my Gran-Gran when I was a kid.” His stomach howled like a basset hound. “I need meat. Maybe potatoes. Definitely some Cheetos. You guys ready to get food?”

“Yep.” Ax climbed off the bed, grabbing his tablet.

“I need to brush my teeth and clean up a bit. We’ll meet you down there in five,” I said.

It actually took fifteen because Roxy needed to change. My nagging about the time kept her from going full on Roxitude, but she switched up her kimono dress with a black and white ensemble dotted with musical notes.

My ankle felt better, but still a little twingy, so we took the elevator. We boarded with fellow passengers and all talk was of the murder.

“I heard he was doping,” said a guy with a flat, Minnesotan accent.

“No, he was shot,” said a woman wearing a Graceland sweatshirt. “Right through the heart.”

Roxy and I kept our traps shut. When the doors creaked open, we lit out of there.

The lobby was still a circus and people wandered in and out of the Suspicious Minds Bar. No sign of Ma anywhere, but I did spy Daniel next to the velvet Elvis, talking to a group of tourists. He’d changed out of his jumpsuit and looked GQ cop in his black jacket and narrow tie.

Ax and Joe headed toward us. “Ma’s in the bar. They’re serving the Elvis sandwich for breakfast. I’m going to head back to the room and do some more research, look into the backgrounds of the drag queens.”

“Thanks, Ax.” I patted his shoulder as I walked by. 

Roxy and I squeezed into the crowded bar. I stuck my hand into my purse and searched for my phone, then remembered I’d given it to Ma the night before. We halted in the back of the room because there wasn’t an empty seat in the place. When we heard a sharp whistle, we turned to find Ma standing and waving at a table near the stage.

Weaving through the throng with Roxy in the lead, we stopped in front of Ma, who pulled us both into a one-armed hug. Still wearing her robe and slippers, her eyes looked a bit droopy. “Girls, I want you to meet the gang.” She sped through the names of six people sitting at the table. “They talked to Ron in passing, but no one I’ve spoken to knew him at all.”

That was disappointing. I wondered if Daniel was having the same bad luck.

Shelley Fabulous Fabares, holding a tray high above her head, walked by us. She used her booming, cranky, male voice today. “Move it. Coming through. Sit your ass down, Female Elvis, I’m trying to get by.”

I snagged the sleeve of her wrinkled blouse. “What’s with all the people?”

“We’re not even supposed to be open, but everyone was hungry. It’s just me, Tad, and the Colonel over there.” She tipped her head toward the bar.

Tad, AKA Mary Tyler Nun, was out of drag. Unless you counted false eyelashes and lipstick.

“I’ve put in a call to the other waitresses. Hopefully, they’ll be here soon. Now let go of my shirt,” Shelley said.

“Roxy could help out,” I blurted. “She’s a waitress back home.”

Roxy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Great,” Shelley said. “Get yourself an apron behind the bar and start with the table by the window.” She hurried off to deliver sandwiches and beer.

“Sorry about volunteering you,” I said. “But maybe you can ask questions. Listen in on conversations?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” she said. “But you owe me for this one.”

Ma, who’d been sitting and chewing the fat with her fellow out-of-towners glanced up. “Where’s Roxy going?”

“She’s decided to play waitress for a while. Are you going to eat that sandwich, Ma? I’m starving. And I need my phone.” She handed over both and I threaded my way back to the lobby. The sandwich was cold, but how warm does peanut butter and banana need to be?

Daniel found me stuffing my face two minutes later. “Still here?”

“I thought I might talk to a few people. See if I recognize a certain voice.”

Lines of tension radiated from his narrowed eyes. “I thought I told you, I don’t need help.”

“Are you getting anywhere with these people? What if I just tag along and while you ask questions, I listen to voices?”

Pursing his lips, he glanced away. A few seconds later, he stared down at me. “Fine. But you stay quiet and simply keep your ears open.”

I nodded and shoved the last bite of sandwich into my mouth.

He walked back to the bar. At the doorway, he stopped and looked around. “Let’s start with the table in the back corner and work our way to the other side of the room.”

I stumbled after him, my ankle still playing up.

Daniel asked standard questions about Ron—if any of the guests knew him, if they’d seen him talking to anyone. I had to lean in close to hear people’s answers. Trying to distinguish voices in this noisy bunch was next to impossible.

Once he’d quizzed everyone, he moved on to the next table. And so it went for the better part of three hours. After which, I needed a break.

“I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. You need one?” I asked.

“No, thanks. You know, I’ve interviewed some of these people twice. If anyone knew anything at all, they’d have told me by now. People love to feel important, and having information about a murder victim would make them a hero.”

I tried to catch Roxy’s eye as she sailed around the room bearing a coffeepot in each hand.

Daniel leaned down and whispered in my ear. “What’s she doing here, anyway?”

“Helping out. They’re short staffed.” I limped to the bar. Tad, the drag nun, ran back and forth filling orders. The Colonel chatted with two tourists, while the silver ends of his bolo tie danced along the bar top. He looked like he’d be gabbing for a while.

I waited patiently until Tad got around to serving me. “Coffee, please. Large as you’ve got.”

He slammed a mug down, sloshed some coffee into it, and gave it a nudge in my direction. Then he was off helping another customer.

I took a sip. Ugh. Truly awful.

Daniel pressed himself against my back. I got a whiff of his woodsy aftershave. “Let’s keep going,” he said in a low voice. “We only have a few tables left.”

“Just give me five minutes,” I said. “My ankle’s starting to swell again.” I carefully protected my cup as I left the bar and walked into the lobby. The whole place was starting to smell of unwashed bodies.

Speaking of which, I meandered over to Stoner Joe, who sat on the floor by the glass doors. A bag from a Mexican fast food chain sat next to him. I didn’t know how he’d gotten such delicious booty as it was barely after nine, but the thought of a taco made my mouth water. He watched a poker game that some of the tourists and two impersonators were playing at the battered coffee table. 

“Hey, Joe. What’s new?” I eased myself down next to him and sipped at my coffee.

Joe did a slow blink, but didn’t take his eyes from the card game. He smelled riper than usual. I wasn’t sure he’d showered in the last three days. He for sure hadn’t changed his clothes. “Rosalita. How it be?”

Looked like Texas Elvis with the Lone Star t-shirt and black cowboy boots was cleaning everyone’s clock. “Full house,” he said to a chorus of moans. “Three kings, two jacks. I win again.”

Joe pointed at the group. “Dude’s, like, a card genius. Keeps winning every time.” He dipped his hand into the bag and pulled out a wrapped taquito. “You want?” He offered it to me.

“Thanks.” I took it and wolfed it down while I watched another round of poker. Texas won again.

“Cool, huh?” Joe asked.

Sadly, this was possibly the most coherent conversation I’d ever had with him.

I finished my coffee and stood. “See ya.”

He glanced up. “Later, man.”

Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I called Ax. “Anything new and earth-shattering?”

“Nope. The dragsters all check out. Everyone’s been working here for at least a year, except for Travis Donald, who started last week. But he’s totally legit. Used to drag as Marilyn Monroe in Florida.”

“Which one is Travis Donald?”

“I couldn’t begin to tell you. Found the headshots on the website. They’re too much.  Did the photographer shoot through gauze?”

“The fuzzy focus is kinder to wrinkles. And five o’clock shadow.” Over my shoulder, a quartet started singing
The First Noel
. “I’ll talk to you soon,” I said, raising my voice.

ELEVEN

Cranking my neck from side to side to alleviate the stiffness, I walked through two groups of tourists to Daniel. We fought our way back into the bar.

In the past hour, the number of people had doubled. Where were they all coming from? There was a party atmosphere in the air, which was weird, considering the reason they’d all gathered was because one of their kind had been murdered.

I caught sight of Roxy. Although four other waitresses had shown up—in full drag—Roxy still hustled tables.

I jerked on Daniel’s sleeve. “Just a sec.” I swam upstream through the teeming crowd and reached Rox right before she headed back to the small kitchen area.

“Hey, any news?” I asked.

With droopy shoulders, she let the tray drop to her side and gave me a weary glance. “They’re short two waitresses. Abigail called in, said she had an appointment and so far, Selena’s a no show.”

“Which ones are they?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw Man-Margret out of drag a little while ago. He grabbed a sandwich and left.”

I set my empty mug on the bar and turned back to Daniel. Time for more questioning. 

Another three hours passed. My head ached, my ankle was throbbing. I hadn’t heard any voice that resembled Ron’s partner. But then I hadn’t really been able to hear much. The roar was deafening and when people started singing karaoke onstage, I strained to hear phrases because listening for individual voices was impossible.

Roxy was still at it, swirling around tables, getting out food, serving drinks, chatting up customers. She was a total trouper.

I left Daniel and caught her in the middle of the room. “Hey, think you can quit now?”

She popped her gum. “The tips have been great, but they’re still one waitress down. Selena. Never called, never showed up. And she was scheduled to work the front desk at ten this morning. And before you ask, I found out that Selena was the
Kissin’ Cousins
chick from last night. The one with that horrible tablecloth dress. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that piece of crap.”

“Is Selena’s real name Travis?” Could Travis Donald, former Marilyn Monroe impersonator from Florida, and Selena be one and the same? It was worth finding out, because my tagging along with Daniel was getting us nowhere.

“Let me check.” She walked behind the bar and confabbed with Tad, then shoved customers out of her way on her return trip. “Yep,” she said. “And Travis is in hot water when he shows up. He’ll be lucky to have a job.”

“Come on, we need to talk to Ax. Meet me in the lobby. I’ll grab Daniel.”

Without asking any questions, Roxy practically ran to the bar, ditched her tray, and ripped off her apron.

I grabbed Daniel’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” I jerked my head toward the door.

Searching my eyes, he followed me to the lobby. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain in a minute.”

Roxy waited by the elevator. I glanced at Stoner Joe when I walked past. He sat cross-legged and stared with his mouth wide open, transfixed by the blinking orange lights on the Christmas tree.

I hoped we wouldn’t forget to take him home with us.

We hopped on the elevator, but because of the five other occupants it afforded no privacy, so I saved my explanation until we got to my room.

Ax was right where we left him, poking at his computer. He glanced up when we trouped through the door. “Bring anything to eat?”

“Damn, didn’t think about it,” I said. “Sorry.”

“I’m calling for a pizza,” he said. “I’m starving.”

Roxy dropped to the other bed. “I can’t believe I had to work on my vacation. So typical.”

Daniel sucked in an annoyed breath. “Could someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

I parked my butt next to Ax and grabbed a pillow to prop up my foot. “Okay, Selena didn’t show up for work today. Selena and female impersonator Travis Donald are one and the same.” I felt a moment of triumph for figuring it out.

“No,” Daniel said, “they’re not. Travis Donald was supposed to start working here last week, but someone called him and rescinded the job offer.”

“So a fake Travis showed up in his place?” I asked. My victory was so short-lived.

“That’s our assumption,” Daniel said.

“Apparently,” Roxy said, smacking her gum, “this fake Travis has been a crappy server from day one. Disappears for stretches at a time and takes too many smoke breaks. And according to Tad, he’s been squatting in empty rooms since he started. If that helps.”

Daniel grinned. Deep crevices lined either side of his mouth. “Let me call Schultz to get some cops out here. We’re going to search every room in this motel.”

While he was on the phone, I shot a glance at Rox. “I’ll bet our pizza’s here. Ax, why don’t you show Daniel that article on the missing jewels. Tell him our theories.”

His eyes slid between Roxy and me. “Right. Our theories.”

As soon as Roxy and I cleared the room, I turned to her. “Where was he staying?”

“Last seen in room two-oh-four. I’ll suddenly remember the number after we’ve searched the room.” That was my bestie, always thinking.

Although my ankle slowed me down, Rox and I fled to the second floor and were inside the room in less than a minute.

“We can’t actually touch anything,” I said.

She darted into the bathroom and came back with two small, dingy towels. “Here.”

Roxy started with the dresser and I hit the bedside table. Inside was a pad of cheap paper. I could see by the indentations where Fake Travis had written something. I held it up to the light. “I think this says
Nat 3K ♥ 5 p.m.
” I handed it off to Rox. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, that’s what I got, too.”

We finished quickly searching the room, found nothing else of interest, and left. Roxy wiped down the outer door handle and we tossed the towels on the bed before leaving. On our way back up to The Roustabout, I remembered the pizza.

“Go rest your foot, I’ll run down and get it,” Roxy said. “I’ll check on Ma, too. Maybe she’s ready for a break.”

Every step I took brought a grimace. To get my mind off the pain, I thought about the sheet of paper.
Nat 3K ♥ 5 p.m.
What the hell did it mean?