Port of Sorrow (3 page)

CHAPTER
4

Two uniformed deputies arrived at the club within seven minutes of the shooting, but by then most of the patrons had fled into the night.

In an attempt to take command of the situation, one of the deputies tried to pry Veronique away from Selene’s body. He quickly learned that she was no lady.

“Goddamnit,” the deputy screamed from his sitting position on the dusty floor. “That’s a goddamn assault on an officer of the law.” His left hand nursed a weeping eye and bloody nose.

Veronique ignored him and pulled Selene closer to his chest, his own eyes red and swollen.

“Let her be for now, Gilles,” said Sheriff William K. Marshall as he sauntered through the front door. His massive belly drooped over the belted waistband of khaki pants with a crotch so low you would think he was bragging. “Can’t you see the lady’s grieving?”

“But she goddamn assaulted me,” Gilles protested as he clambered to his feet.

“You probably deserved it,” Marshall replied without humor. “And if you don’t round up the rest of the witnesses who were here tonight, I’ll do worse.”

Gilles’ face reddened as he brushed the dirt off the seat of his pants and stuck his hat back on his head. Before leaving, he leaned in close to Veronique and hissed, “I’m gonna git you, lady. Get you gooood.”

Veronique didn’t look up.

The sheriff crossed to the stage and adjusted his pants.

“I’m deeply sorry for your loss, Miss,” he said. “But in order for my men to do their job, we’re going to need to see the body.”

Veronique lifted his gaze to glower.

“I know, I know,” Marshall said gently. “It’s a nasty business and your friend deserves better, but it’s our job. If you let us examine her, we’ll stand a better chance of catching the cold-hearted bastard who did this.”

Veronique’s voice cracked. “I don’t want people staring at her. She’s had enough of that.”

“I understand, Miss, I surely do, and I can promise that once I’ve conducted a quick examination, I’ll cover her up. There’ll be no more peep show here today.”

The sheriff looked into Veronique’s eyes, sending a message of reassurance. Finally, the singer nodded and gently laid Selene on the stage. Before leaving, he brushed fallen hair from her face and lovingly closed her still-startled eyes.

Veronique sat off to one side until the coroner arrived. She was a heavy-boned woman with a surprisingly light step, but absolutely no clue as to what shade of lipstick worked with her skin tone. The sheriff immediately instructed her to cover the body when she was through.

Turning his attention back to the singer, Marshall said, “I think it would be best if you waited in your room. I’ll have one of my deputies come up and talk to you as soon as she arrives.”

To Marshall’s relief, Veronique stood up, his feet on autopilot, and crossed the empty bar to the door that led to the hotel lobby. The sheriff watched her move, noticing the surprising muscle tone beneath the tight dress.

After Veronique left the room, Marshall instructed the department’s photographer (Jeff Smart, owner/operator of the local PhotoMart, and volunteer fireman) to capture the scene from every angle. When the photographer and coroner were satisfied, Marshall covered the body himself before having the waiting ambulance cart it off to the county morgue.

With the immediate area secured and two additional officers called in to interview the more sober witnesses, Marshall turned his thoughts to where in hell his newest rookie had disappeared.

“THAT’S HER, SHERIFF,”
the bald bartender said, pointing a finger towards Julia as she re-entered the club from the alley. “I thought she made a strange lookin’ guy, but I never expected her to be a whacko lesbian terrorist.”

“Hush now, Marvin,” Marshall replied calmly. “That’s one of my officers.”

“Well what in hell are you doin’ hiring lesbian terrorists for, Bill. Ain’t you got no sense?”

Marshall silenced the bartender with an annoyed wave of his hand before hitching up his pants and turning to face the newest addition to his force.

Few veteran cops enjoy working with rookies, and even fewer will tolerate female rookies. It was a fact of life, but one Marshall was trying hard to change. Throughout his 52 years, the most important influences in his life had all been women. As far as he was concerned, they made damn fine officers — eventually.

Julia crossed the room in silence, her eyes unflinching beneath the sheriff’s stone-faced scowl.

Marshall wanted to smile, to relax her, but he knew the men were watching, waiting to criticize any sign of favoritism.

“You okay?” he asked, silently cursing the tone of concern that crept into his voice.

Julia nodded, her hand reaching up to touch the broken skin of her cheek.

“It’s nothing soap and water can’t fix.”

“Good.” He toughened his voice. “What happened here, J.L.?”

Julia bristled at his use of her initials, but the moment passed and she quickly and precisely detailed the shooting along with her chase from the club to the gravel parking lot where the gunman made his getaway.

“You didn’t see the plate?” Marshall asked.

“No, sir, just the corner of a bumper sticker.”

“What kind of truck was it?”

“Definitely a Ford.”

“Year?”

“Still fairly new. I would guess five to six years old.”

“But no license plate?”

“No, sir, it was covered in mud.”

Marshall sighed, scratched his head and nose, then asked, “You sure it was a man?”

Julia nodded. “I would have noticed another woman in the crowd.”

“I expect you would,” Marshall agreed. “I’ll get Gilles to radio out a bulletin on the truck, but if you feel up to it I would appreciate you interviewing the singer. She appears to be a close friend of the victim. Hell, she punched Gilles in the nose when he asked her to leave the girl’s side.”

“He probably deserved it,” she blurted.

Marshall couldn’t keep from laughing. He knew Julia had met Gilles for the first time the previous afternoon at the station when he unexpectedly popped into the change room to welcome her. He had neglected to knock and before Marshall had shut him down, he had been bragging about the new recruit’s tight, little body.

“That’s what I told him,” he whispered. “Don’t think he appreciated it none though.”

Julia smiled, looking relieved that she hadn’t angered him by speaking out of turn.

Marshall hiked up his pants again, then lowering his voice again, added, “I can’t promise the boys are going to like you messing with detective work. But seeing as how you were on the scene and gave chase to the culprit, they’ll understand. If anybody gives you a hard time
—
”

“I can handle it, sir,” Julia interrupted.

“I never doubted it, J.L.,” he chuckled. “Just offering support.”

Julia lowered her face in a bid to hide her embarrassment, while the sheriff gave her the singer’s room number.

Marshall watched as Julia walked by the stage, her stride faltering at the outline of the young dancer, a broken silhouette etched in blood. Her shoulders rose and fell as she forced herself to take a deep breath. Marshall knew what she was feeling; he had done the same thing a dozen times before, burying emotion beneath the protective armor of the badge.

CHAPTER
5

Four floors up, Julia knocked on the door of Veronique de Toulouse.

“Go away.” The voice sounded strained, raspy.

Julia knocked again and received the same answer. She glanced back towards the elevator, not wanting to return to the sheriff empty handed. This time she tried the handle. It was unlocked.

Entering the room, Julia was startled at the sight of a half-naked man. He hunched on a barstool facing a large oval mirror, undressed from the waist up. Below the waist, he wore a white girdle and fishnet stockings. A bloodstained green dress, and what appeared to be a prosthetic bra, lay crumpled around his feet.

On the table beside him a flowing red wig had been carefully positioned on a Styrofoam head. Two other wigs, a short blonde and a luxurious black, accompanied it.

As Julia watched, the half-man alternately drank from a bottle of Wild Turkey and dabbed at his face from a pot of cold cream. With every stroke of his hand, Julia saw the female façade vanish to reveal the man underneath. He looked slightly older than, and not as striking as, the French singer Julia had seen on stage. Yet he had the chiseled good looks, pale eyes and dark hair to be as handsome as Veronique was pretty. It was almost as if they were twins sharing the same body.

“I told you to go away,” Finn said without turning around. His teeth ground out the words.

“I’m Deputy Rusk with the sheriff’s department.”

“I don’t care if you’re the fire department and the whole fucking building is burning down, just go away.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Miss … err …”

Finn spun, his eyes dark with anger and his knuckles white as he squeezed the bottle of bourbon in his hand. Half his face still held the makeup of Veronique; the other half was wiped clean.

“Finn!” he sneered, rising to his feet “Without the makeup, the name’s Finn.”

Julia backed up to the door as Finn stood. His smooth bare chest glistened with dried blood, and the bourbon bottle swung by his side like a club.

“Just take it easy,” Julia said, holding up her hands. “I only want to ask a few questions.”

Finn, his face a gruesome mask, strode forward to quickly narrow the gap.

In a panic, Julia reached for her gun, but before she could release it from its holster, Finn stopped. He scanned her from hairline to cowboy boots, his face reflecting the unfocused rage churning within.

“You were in the club,” he said, barely controlling the tremor in his voice. “Selene flashed you.”

Julia nodded, her hand resting on the butt of her gun.

Finn lifted the bottle and took a long swallow. His eyes drifted skyward as he stumbled backwards to sit on the edge of one of the twin beds.

“Selene loves to embarrass people.” A tortured smile pulled at his mouth.

Julia watched helplessly as the smile faded and Finn’s face dissolved into tears. The bottle fell from his grasp, its contents spilling over the floor, as his chest heaved with a shuddering sob.

Julia stood awkwardly at the door, not knowing what to do. Part of her wanted to go to him and offer comfort, but another part, a fresh-out-of-the-academy discipline, needed to stay detached in order to perform her duty.

Her discipline lost as she crossed the room, sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his trembling shoulders.

“WHERE DID YOU
and Selene
meet
?” Julia asked later, after the sobbing had stopped and Finn had recovered control.

“San Francisco.” A smile edged into his voice. “A lousy skin joint named Peeping Toms. I was auditioning my cabaret act, raunchy songs and raunchier jokes, and Selene came in early for her shift as a dancer. When I finished, she was the only one who applauded. And when the manager told me I sounded more bent than his copper plumping, Selene actually stood up for me.” Finn laughed. “She didn’t have much of a vocabulary, but when she said she would never shake her ass in such a low-class joint again, you could see the heartbreak in the manager’s eyes. Selene had a body that could sell cheap beer for a champagne price, and if she knew nothing else, she knew that.”

“So she quit?” Julia asked.

“On the spot.” Finn grinned. “We walked out of that club arm in arm and have been inseparable ever since.”

“She knew you were, err, that you like . . . ,” Julia couldn’t find the right words.

Finn chuckled, amused by her awkwardness.

“Veronique was Selene’s idea, actually. The gay clubs didn’t want my act because I was too straight, and the straight clubs said my falsetto was too high. Selene came up with the idea after we watched an old May West movie at a retro theater we loved. She was convinced that May West was a man and wanted to see what I would look like as a woman.” Finn winked. “What did I have to lose?”

“And it worked?” Julia said.

“Like a charm. Suddenly my whole act came together and Veronique became a star. Well,” Finn paused to survey the hotel room, “as much of a star as this circuit can afford anyways. Once we raised some more money, we were planning to try Vegas or Reno. Get something a little more solid, you know?”

Julia made some notes in her pad, and without looking up asked: “So you’re not gay?”

Finn shook his head. “If I were, I would be cashing in with headline gigs on the drag circuit, but they catch a straight man on their stage, they scratch his eyes out. You don’t cross the pink mafia.”

Julia raised an eyebrow and Finn chuckled.

“Just checking you were paying attention,” he said. “It’s more rainbow colored with lots of sparkles.”

Julia smiled.

“So were you and Selene lovers?” she asked.

Finn shook his head again. “We both have baggage and sleeping together would have wrecked a great friendship.”

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt her?”

Finn froze in thought for a moment before answering. “Selene was one of the gentlest creatures in this world. She couldn’t make an enemy if she tried.”

“Did you get a look at the man who shot her?”

Finn shook his head for the third time.

“Not even a glimmer.”