Baby take a bow, p.16
Baby, Take a Bow, page 16
“Think she’s shopping for diapers?”
“Nails,” Camden said.
“She’s making a stroller?”
“No, fingernails.” He pointed to a small salon. Frieda sat across from a slim Asian woman who leaned forward, doing something delicate to Frieda’s outstretched hand.
“Well, of course,” I said. “What every unwed mother needs, new fingernails.”
The little shop smelled unpleasantly of chemicals. Frieda glanced up and sighed dramatically.
“What do you want?”
The woman was painting Frieda’s fingernails a dark green shade. I couldn’t see the name on the bottle, but I imagined it was something like Slimy Moss or Dead Snot. The woman gave me one look and went back to smoothing the polish.
“Vangie tells me you refused their generous offer to be a Spoon.”
She wrinkled her nose. Vangie was right. It was little and pointed. “Their music sucks. I want to be in a real band.”
“And your definition of real band is?”
“One that doesn’t suck.”
“So what do you play? Guitar? Harmonica? Trombone?”
I know if she hadn’t been up to her cuticles in Slime Rot, she would’ve spit in my eye and left the shop. “What the hell do you want?”
The woman paused for a moment as if offended by this show of bad manners. Frieda glared at her. “Aren’t you through yet? What do you want, Randall?”
“I want to help you, and I think you can help me.”
“Why would I want to help you?”
“For one thing, I found Kit a place to stay, so he’s out of your hair.”
“Big deal.”
“And I won’t tell your mom you’re pregnant.”
This time, the woman stopped completely.
“I apologize,” I told her. “Frieda, I’ll wait for you outside.”
Camden sat on a bench outside the nail salon eating an ice cream cone. I joined him. In about fifteen minutes, Frieda came out, green nails glinting. It would’ve ruined the paint job to bury them in my heart, but from her expression, I could tell that’s what she wanted to do.
Her voice was low and furious. “Don’t you dare tell my mother anything. How did you know, anyway? Kit told you, didn’t he? That bastard. I don’t know how he does it.”
I’d thought her unattractive pooch of stomach was baby fat. Now I could see it was all baby. “Settle down. Your mother has agreed to do something for me if I get you into a band. Now, I don’t know if you plan to bring the kid along, but it could make a difference.”
She was silent. I could see her weighing her options. “You can get me in a band?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“What do you want for not telling about the baby?”
“I want to know what you’re going to do with it.”
Another long silence. “Why?”
“I have my reasons. Maybe if you stop being so defensive, I’ll tell you.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“You’re right.”
“You’re right” was apparently not something Frieda heard very often. She gave me another measuring stare. “You get me in a band, I’ll tell you my plans.”
“Deal.” I offered my hand, and after a minute’s hesitation, she shook it. “Great-looking nails. Did you see them, Camden?”
“Do you mind if I have a look?” She shrugged and extended her hand. Camden touched it lightly as he admired her fingers. “Very nice.”
She pulled her hand back. “Okay, so when am I going to know something?”
“How about if I call you tonight?” I said.
“Okay.”
Another bony teenage girl came up lugging two shopping bags. “Hey, Frieda, who are your friends?”
She turned up her pointy little nose. “They aren’t my friends. Come on, let’s go.”
The friend said, “The blond one’s cute,” as Frieda dragged her away.
“See?” I said to Camden. “You could have any adolescent you want.”
He watched them go. “It’s a good thing she doesn’t want to keep the baby. She’d be a horrible mother.”
“You get anything else?”
“That’s about as mindless a young lady as I’ve ever read.”
“Now all I have to do is find a band that’ll take her.” People crowded the mall, going in and out of shops, but none of them could help me, and there wasn’t a store where I could buy a group that would jump at the chance to have Miss Disdainful as their lead singer. “Got any ideas?”
“I was thinking the Archer Sisters may be your best bet.”
“What? The reviled and despised Archer Sisters? How do you figure that?”
“One reason Ellie doesn’t like them is because they sing.”
“That’s their psychic act?”
“They sing to get in tune with the spirits.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Actually, it’s more of a yodel.”
Could this get any nuttier? “Does it work?”
“I don’t see how. They’re way off-key. Maybe they could use another tone-deaf member.”
“Now I’m so damn curious to see them.”
“Then let’s go to the Holiday Lounge.”
Chapter Seventeen
“I Wonder Where My Baby is Tonight”
I was surprised to find that the Holiday Lounge was one place in Parkland that lived up to its name. It was a lounge, and it had a holiday theme. Streamers and confetti were in evidence, as well as Christmas trees, American flags, and turkeys dressed like Pilgrims. Valentines and shamrocks hung from the ceiling. Easter baskets and jack-o-lanterns shared space on the tables. A small stage gleamed with pink and gold lights.
“This is very festive,” I said.
A pert young hostess dressed like a witch greeted us. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. You’re just in time for our happy holiday two-for-one special. Would you like to sit at the bar or a table?”
“A table would be fine,” Camden said, “and could you please tell Ruby and Pearl that Cam is here to see them?”
“It would be my pleasure, sir. This way.” She led us to a table up front near the stage. “Enjoy.”
An equally attractive young woman dressed like Betsy Ross materialized from a corner. “Drinks, gentlemen?”
She rattled off the entire list. I chose a likely-sounding beer, and Camden ordered a Coke. When she left, I said, “Ruby and Pearl? Sounds exotic.”
At that moment, two tall, identical dark-haired women wearing short white silky robes came from backstage. “Cam!” they squealed. He’d barely gotten out of his seat before he was engulfed. They hugged him and patted him and ruffled his hair.
When they finally let go, he looked more rumpled than ever.
“Ladies, this is my friend David Randall. Randall, may I present Ruby and Pearl, the Archer Sisters.”
Ruby and Pearl shook my hand and beamed twin smiles. They weren’t knockdown gorgeous like Kary, but they had a definite Look At Me attractiveness. Their shoulder-length hair flipped up in the style made popular by Mary Tyler Moore. Their dark eyes were surrounded by lots of mascara. Red polish gleamed on their fingernails, and red lipstick defined their wide mouths. I couldn’t tell them apart.
One of them said, “We have a few minutes.”
The other sister finished the sentence. “Before the show.”
Camden and I held their chairs, and they sat down.
One patted Camden’s hand. “Did you come especially to see our act? That’s so sweet! You know, we were scheduled to appear on Ellin’s TV program, but there was a last minute snafu.”
I could easily see why Reg wanted them on the PSN. I could also see why Ellin disapproved. Ruby and Pearl couldn’t keep their hands off Camden.
“Yes, we came to see your act, but I also have a favor to ask.”
I tried to signal to Camden to forget it. Frieda Huntington would never be as classy and polished as the Archer Sisters, not if she worked at it her whole life. No need to burden them with a hostile waif.
“We’d do anything for you,” one sister said.
“We know a young woman who wants to join a band, but we don’t know of any groups needing a new member. We thought you could help.”
“What kind of band? Bob Kalinski and His Polka Ramblers are short an accordion player, aren’t they, Ruby?”
Now I knew Ruby was the one on the left. She thought a moment. “Yes, and I believe Scruff Havers and the Polliwogs were looking for someone to play the xylophone. Or was it the triangle?”
“She wants something a little more modern,” Camden said. “Something teenagers are into.”
Both women paused. “Oh. Electric.”
“Can we get back to you?” Pearl asked. “We’re on in about five minutes. Come on, Ruby.”
During our conversation with the Archer Sisters, the lounge had filled. Were two yodeling psychics that much of a draw? “Camden, I don’t think they’ll be able to help us find a band that will suit Frieda.”
“They might.”
“Do I sense a little history here?”
He doesn’t talk about it, but the way his female acquaintances carry on when they see him leads me to believe there may have been a fair amount of upstairs activity before Ellin decided to marry him.
“Ellie doesn’t like them because they remind her of her sisters.”
“Oh, that’s why they look familiar.” Ellin’s two older sisters are tall, dark, and super confident. Basically, they treat Ellin like a pretty little doll and aren’t impressed by her accomplishments. “So you and Ruby and Pearl never—?”
“No.”
“If you say so.”
I’m sure he would’ve said something else, but the lights dimmed, and the Archer Sisters burst on stage in a blaze of short red-and-gold spangled dresses. “Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to the Holiday Lounge!” they chorused. “We’re the Archer Sisters, and we’re here to tell your future!”
Then, to my amazement, they began to sing. Camden was right. It was more of a yodel, a strangled sound like birds gargling. Ruby—or maybe it was Pearl—warbled a scale, something in her throat wobbling up and down. Then they both let loose with a vibrato so wide you could’ve driven a truck through it. I turned to give Camden a disbelieving look, but he avoided my gaze. He had his hand over his mouth and was trying not to laugh.
After about ten painful minutes of oscillating sound, the Archer Sisters and the audience relaxed. Pearl—or perhaps Ruby—smiled a broad smile. “We were able to get in touch with many many spirits today. Is there someone here named Vernon?”
This being Parkland, of course there was someone here named Vernon. A large man two tables back raised his hand. The sisters proceeded to give a cold reading that pleased him, something about his grandmother and her cat. Halfway through, they had to stop and yodel a bit to clarify. By this time, Camden was practically under the table, and I had to bite my lip. Mercifully, the act didn’t last long. We were able to get control and have another drink. Ruby and Pearl greeted their fans and circled around to our table. Camden told them how much we enjoyed the performance.
“We’ll get right to work on your problem,” one sister said. “Do you suppose this young lady would like a job here? It’s a very safe working environment and we don’t have any of the problems other clubs have.”
The other leaned in. “There’ve been quite a few places fined lately for not being up to code. The Holiday Lounge is not one of them and not ever likely to be. The owners follow all the rules and regulations.”
This reminded me of Pennix’s complaints. “Have you ladies heard of any trouble at the Cave on Emerald?”
“We know the health department has really been calling out owners who aren’t doing what they’re supposed to. There are very strict rules involved, and a few places have been shut down for good. Now, getting back to your problem, we always need waitresses, and this young lady of yours could dress up in different costumes. It’s fun.”
My mind backed up at the thought of Frieda as Betsy Ross. “We’ll ask her.”
The sisters insisted on paying for our drinks. Camden endured another round of hugs. I got a couple, myself, and we left.
I unlocked the Fury and we got in. “Interesting little info about the clubs and the health department. That’s what Pennix has been griping about. If he’s had to pay stiff fines, he might be looking for other ways to supplement his income.”
“But how does he fit in with Bobbi’s death?”
“I wish I knew. On to Comic World. I want to talk to Kit about Frieda.”
“He won’t do anything to help his sister.”
I agreed. “However, he might like to sic her on a rival band.”
***
Kit wasn’t at Comic World, so we went home to see if he was there. He wasn’t, but Buddy was back from the fiddlers’ convention. Buddy’s as big as Rufus and just as scraggly. He had on his usual bib overalls and a baseball cap that read: “My Give A Damn’s Busted.”
He heaved himself out of a rocking chair. “What’s all this about Rufus murderin’ somebody?”
“We’re going on the assumption he didn’t,” I said. “Do you know where he was last Tuesday?”
Buddy wrinkled up his small features to think. “Tuesday, Tuesday. Nope, can’t say as I recall. What’s the deal?”
“His ex-wife, Bobbi, was found dead in her home, and her baby’s missing. Rufus is the father.”
“For real? He never said nothin’ about no baby.”
“That’s because he didn’t know about the baby until last week. Is he here? Have you talked to him?”
“Stopped by to do that very thing, only he ain’t here.”
Camden took out his phone. After a few moments, he said, “No answer.”
“Damn it, we’re going to have to put a GPS on him. Any ideas, Buddy? We need to know where he is.”
“It’s Sunday. Sometimes he and Angie go up on the Parkway.”
The Blue Ridge Parkway is about an hour from Parkland. As much as I wanted to believe that Rufus and Angie were sitting at a scenic overlook having a picnic and enjoying a cool mountain breeze, I could tell by the expression on Camden’s face this was not the case.
“He’s up to something, isn’t he?”
“Let me try Angie.”
A phone call to Angie revealed she was at her mother’s, and Rufus had told her he was going fishing with Buddy.
“First I heard of that,” Buddy said.
“He’s fishing, all right,” I said, “only he’s the one who’s going to get caught.”
Superior Homes was closed, but Rufus might try something stupid at Brian Young’s home. I got the brochure from the island, which fortunately included Young’s address and phone number. I gave him a call, but there was no answer.
I put my phone away. “This could mean several things. Either Young’s not home, or Rufus has already killed him. We’d better go see.”
“Well, doggone it,” Buddy said, “I would’ve liked to have gone fishing.”
Camden and I left him still grumbling about this missed opportunity and drove to Brian Young’s massive cathedral of a house in Putnam Grove. The first thing we saw was the not very subtle sight of a blue Bigfoot truck parked down the street.
Rufus wasn’t in his truck.
“Is he hiding in the bushes? Please don’t tell me he’s broken into the house. All these mansions have major alarm systems.”
Camden scanned the neighborhood, trying to hone in on Rufus’ signal. “He’s behind the house.”
“Taking a dip in the pool? Young will appreciate that.”
I parked in front of Young’s house. I opened my trunk and took out the dog leash I carry when I’m snooping in upscale neighborhoods. “Here. Carry this. If anyone asks, we’re looking for your lost dog.”
“Rufe’s a mighty big dog.”
“One that needs to be on a leash.”
We circled the house and came upon a lavish backyard, complete with pool, patio, guest house, and a mini-vineyard. I’d been making a joke about Rufus hiding in the bushes, but that’s where we found him, hunkered down behind a collection of carefully trimmed boxwoods. At least he’d left the bulldozer at home.
I tapped his shoulder. “Tag, you’re it.”
He jumped as if I’d poked him with a taser. “Damn it all! What’re you two doing here?”
“Trying to keep you out of jail, you moron. What are you planning to do?”
Rufus brushed twigs and leaves off his overalls. “Thought I’d surprise Young when he came home, maybe get a confession out of ’im.”
“Let’s see, trespassing, assault, slander—”
“Well, you ain’t doing squat.”
“Didn’t you promise Angie you wouldn’t do anything else? You want to jeopardize your relationship?”
“Just payin’ a friendly call.”
“Rufus, please,” Camden said. “I’m sure the minute somebody saw your truck, they called the cops. We need to get out of here.”
Rufus crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at him.“Can’t make me.”
Camden took a moment. “Okay. Get back in the bushes and make room for me.”
Rufus stared in surprise. “What?”
“If you’re going to jail, I’ll go, too.”
“Aw, Cam, don’t be stupid.”
“I’m serious. If you won’t leave, then I’ll stay. Randall will, too.”
“Sure, why not?” I said. “Let’s all go to jail. Then Young can run free and commit all the crimes he likes.”
Rufus looked at me and then at Camden. “Neither one of y’all’s got the sense God gave an animal cracker.” He shook his head. “Damnation. You’re not gonna tell Angie about this, are you?”
