Diner Impossible, page 12
Barbara introduced me around to several different ladies, whose names I’d never remember. She insisted I have a cup of tea and an almond cookie. When I aimed the tong at a second cookie, she literally slapped my wrist.
“No one takes two except for Velma Shoal and she’s a size twelve as surely as I’m a double zero,” she said. “Don’t be a glutton.”
I held up the wafer-thin cookie and glared at her as I popped it in my mouth.
Jacks rescued me a few moments later and drew me toward some of her friends. They were all married to doctors and had young children. Bored after two seconds, I edged toward my sister. “Where’s Charlotte Ashby?”
She did a subtle room check. “In the corner, talking to the woman with bright red hair.”
Bending backward at the waist, I caught a glimpse of a tiny woman with dark blonde hair and pixyish features.
“I’m going to go talk to her,” I muttered in Jacks’ ear.
“Just don’t tell anyone to fuck off this time,” she whispered back.
“We’ll see.” I wasn’t making empty promises.
With my welcome packet and books tucked under my arm and teacup in hand, I maneuvered through the room, zeroing in on my target.
“Hello,” I said, throwing out my most disarming smile. “I’m Rose Strickland. This is my first time here.”
“So nice to meet you.” The older woman had to be in her seventies. Bright blue eye shadow enhanced the creases in her eyelids, and she peered at me over clunky, black reading glasses. “I’m Addy. Are you related to Barbara and Jacqueline?”
“Yes, Barbara’s my mother.”
Charlotte Ashby’s brown eyes widened. “I didn’t know she had another daughter. She’s never mentioned you.”
“Never?” I asked.
“No,” Addy said, “and I’ve known your mother for a very long time.” She rubbed her bright crimson lips together. “What did you say your name was again?”
This was getting ridiculous. And a little hurtful. I knew my mother didn’t advertise the fact that she had a waitress for a daughter, but she never mentioned me? At all?
“I’m sure she’s brought you up and we just forgot,” Charlotte said. She had one of those breathy, little girl voices. “Right, Addy?”
As Addy’s hooded eyes scrutinized me, I fought a squirm. “Perhaps,” she said.
Charlotte Ashby was so slight, I could easily mistake her for a twelve-year-old if it hadn’t been for the fan of lines around her eyes and nose. Because of that, I placed her somewhere in her mid-thirties.
I squinted at her. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
She tilted her head and scanned my face. “Do you work at the courthouse?”
“No, but I was there recently,” I lied. “What is it you do?”
Red waved at someone she knew and excused herself. “So nice to meet you…”
“Rose,” I supplied. “Likewise.” I glanced back at Charlotte. “You were about to tell me what you do for a living.”
“I don’t actually work outside the home. But sometimes I go hear my husband in court. David Ashby? He’s an assistant prosecutor. Someday, he’ll be Attorney General. He was featured in Huntingford Today and voted one of the city’s top fifty up-and-comers.”
“Who actually votes on something like that?” I asked, without realizing how snarky it would sound.
She fluttered her lashes. “I…I don’t know. Whoever decides these things. Anyway, it was an honor,” she said with a dash of defensiveness.
I snapped my fingers, like I’d just remembered something. “Your husband is friends with Judge Mills Keeler.”
“Of course. Judge Keeler’s a great big sweetie pie. His girlfriend, Julia, is one of my best friends.” She pointed somewhere past my shoulder. “There she is. Julia,” she called.
Julia Baxter slinked closer, looking every bit as beautiful in the bright daylight as she did in a low, flattering glow of the country club chandeliers. But today, she didn’t invite us all to partake of her cleavage. Instead, she wore an expensive red power suit and equally pricey black pumps.
She performed the requisite kiss-kiss hello with Charlotte and bestowed one air kiss near my left cheek. “Rosalyn, so good to see you again. I was going to call you this week. What’s a good time to set up an appointment to look at condos?”
“Tomorrow?” I had some free time after work and before my evening class. “How about two-thirty?”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you at Huntingford Towers. They have a few empty units. We’ll start there.”
Julia placed her hand on Charlotte’s arm. “We met at the dance last night. You should have been there. Rosalyn had some kind of disagreement with our Chief of Police.” Her lips held a smirk, but her light blue eyes were serious and steady on mine. “What was that all about?”
“My feet hurt. I didn’t want to dance. He did.”
Those eyes sharpened and the corners of her mouth slid into a frown. “Really?”
“Strange that Martin would get angry over that type of thing,” Charlotte said.
I turned to her. “What type of thing would Martin get angry over?”
“I don’t know. Although he often seems impatient with poor Annabelle. And she’s the sweetest lady you’d ever want to meet. I feel sorry for her.”
“Yes,” Julia said. “All this gossip going around. It’s terrible for her.”
Before I could ask any more pertinent questions, a woman with steel gray hair grabbed our attention by banging a gavel.
“Find your seats, ladies. We have a lot of business to get through.”
Well, crap.
*
Two hours. Two long, painful hours later and we were still discussing the holiday house tour—prices, times, dates, and deadlines. If I’d had anything sharper than a pen, I would have committed hari-kari right there in the Historical Society meeting room. I knew this was all about community service and civic pride, but boink me sideways, why did it have to be so mind-numbingly boring?
I dug out my phone, which earned me a snarl from my mother. Finally, at six, I gathered up my welcome kit and whispered, “I have to go.”
“Sit down,” she hissed, like a ventriloquist, her lips never moving.
“I have an appointment.” I stood, excused myself, scooting in front of four other women. “Sorry,” I said as they moved their legs to the side and scooped up their handbags, clearing my pathway to freedom.
“You, the one causing a commotion.” The gavel woman’s eyes were as steely as her gray hair.
My feet froze and skin prickled as all heads turned in my direction.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
“Um.”
“You’re not leaving before the end of the meeting, are you?”
Her tone dared me to disagree. “Well—”
“She’s ill.” My mother stood and placed her hand on my shoulder—and by placed, I meant clamped down so hard, I knew she’d leave a bruise. “She’s been fighting the flu for the last several days. I’ll walk her out and be back in time for my committee’s report. Terribly sorry for the disturbance, Justine.”
I made tracks through the row and out into the foyer, my mother’s icy displeasure dogging me every step of the way.
At the front door, Intern Amber tiptoed into the foyer with my coat slung over her arm. “Here you are,” she said in a hushed voice. “Hope you’re feeling better soon.”
My mother waited until Amber disappeared. “Why do you do this? You always make a spectacle of yourself and shame me in the process.”
I set down the welcome packet on an antique side table and angrily shoved my arms into the coat sleeves. “It’s obvious you’re ashamed of me, Mom,” I whispered. “That’s why you never mention me. None of these women even know you have a second daughter. Please remember that I am doing you a favor by looking into Delia Cummings’ death. I spoke to Charlotte and I’m meeting with Julia Baxter tomorrow afternoon. I can’t stick around here all night, I have an appointment.”
She took a deep breath. “What could possibly be so important that you have to embarrass me in front of my friends?”
“If you must know, I have a meeting with the KAWs.”
“What cause? Oh my God, you’re not turning into a revolutionary, are you? Because let me tell you something,” she shoved her finger in my face, “that would be the last straw. I will not tolerate a communist for a daughter.”
I rolled my eyes. “They’re not communists, Mother, they’re aliens.”
She dropped her hand and sighed. “At least tell me they’re documented.”
Chapter 15
I picked up Ma and Roxy and we swung through the Burger Barn drive thru on the way to Divak Khard’s house. Stopping at the traffic light, I bit into my cheeseburger. “What’s this guy’s real name again?”
Ma reached into the bag and pulled out a fry. “Dale Marsh. He owns that video game store off Oakwood. He’s going to get me a good deal on a used console.”
From the back seat, Roxy stuck her head between us. “Quit hogging all the fries, people.” She grabbed a bag and took it with her.
As we drove, I filled them in on what I’d discovered, both last night at the country club and this afternoon. All about what neighbor Eileen overheard, Annabelle’s stress, and her two disturbed children.
“Whoever did this is just plain evil. Stabbing someone in their sleep,” Ma said. “I don’t know what the world’s coming to.”
“Are we still hitting Club Saturn tonight?” Roxy asked. Ma turned to me. “What’s Club Saturn?”
“We think that’s where Delia Cummings met Mathers before becoming his assistant.”
“Ooo, I like the sound of going to a club. I wouldn’t mind shaking my groove thing.” She wiggled her shoulders and snapped her fingers.
“Did you cancel your date with Sullivan?” Roxy asked.
“Yeah.” Memories from the previous night floated through my brain. His hands, his lips, the way he slowly raised my skirt, exposing my legs, inch by inch—
“This light’s not getting any greener, toots.”
I blinked and concentrated on driving to Dale’s house, which turned out to be a two-bedroom cottage in a tidy neighborhood. The yards may have been small, but they were neatly kept. Seven or eight cars lined the street in front of his house, so I dropped Ma and Roxy at the driveway and snagged some curb a block away.
I shut off my ignition at the same time my phone vibrated. Sullivan. “Hi,” I answered.
“Hi, yourself.” That voice of his, so deep and smooth, it made me quiver. “Sure you have to cancel tonight?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Damn it.
“You’re going to have to make it up to me,” he said. “Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it.”
I grinned and blushed at the same time. “If you say so.”
Pause. “I bought Club Saturn this afternoon. When you go, ask for Timothy, the manager. He’s been instructed to cooperate with you in every way.”
Now I really was going to have to make it up to him. “I appreciate it. Listen, I’ve got a bunch of Klingons waiting on me. Call me later?” This time I hung up first. Ha, take that, mister.
But my phone rang again almost immediately. My study buddy, Janelle Johnson. We paired up in Biology a few semesters ago and have been amigas ever since.
“Hey, girl,” she said. “The kids are spending the night with my cousin. Want to study for midterms?”
I thunked my forehead against the steering wheel. I’d forgotten all about midterms. I hadn’t cracked a book in days. “I’m in the middle of a murder thing and I need to hit a club tonight.”
“Yeah, that sounds better than studying. What time are you picking me up? And just so you know, you’re the designated driver.”
This little fact-finding mission was starting to sound more like a girls’ night out. “I’m meeting with the Klingons right now. So maybe an hour?”
“I’ll be ready. And what the shit’s a Klingon?”
“I’ll fill you in later.” I turned off my phone and hurried inside.
It had gotten chilly again. Not freezing but getting there.
Ax met me at the door. Divak Khard’s house was tiny, neat, but plain with a couple of leather chairs and a big ass TV. I suspected by the lack of artwork and throw pillows that Dale was a bachelor.
“Thanks for doing this, Rose. You’re the best dude a guy ever had.” Ax pulled me into a hug.
“Aww, you been toking up a little?” I patted his back.
He pulled away and shook his head, causing his wiry, dishwater blond waves to brush his scraggly cheek. “No. Just hope we can get this cleared up. The KAWs are starting to turn on each other, man. We can’t have division in the ranks.”
“What do you mean? Some of you are suspecting each other of the theft?”
“Yeah. Come on down, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
A door in the dining alcove led to the basement. I wasn’t sure what to expect but was taken aback by a room that resembled something straight off a movie set. One wall had been papered in deep space and a horseshoe shaped bar stood opposite. Gray chairs surrounded eight brightly lit cube tables that glowed from within.
Despite my request, most of the KAWs came in costume. Only Ax, a man behind the bar, and some guy with short brown hair had dressed in civvies. When he said hello, I recognized him as Klek the Perv who was crushing on Roxy. Or Brian in his real life—whatever that may be.
The man behind the bar hurried toward me with an outstretched arm. “Hey, Rose. I’m Dale. You probably remember me as Divak Khard.”
As I shook his hand, I felt a little bad that I didn’t remember him at all. “Nice to see you again.”
“Welcome to Ten Forward Lounge. It’s an exact replica of the bar on The Next Generation. What do you think?”
“I think it’s amazing. Very authentic.”
“Would you care for some Romulan ale?” he asked.
“It’s blue, toots.” Sitting at a corner table, Ma held up her glass.
“No thanks, I’m the designated driver.” I said to the room in general, “Do you guys mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Here.” Ax led me to the bar and parked on a stool next to me. “Ask away.”
I pulled out my notebook and opened it to the middle—needed to keep my notes on the Mathers case separate. “If I remember correctly, Dale, you had the framed uniform in your trunk?”
He nodded. I caught a few people glancing at him askance. “Yeah, I wrapped it securely in a blanket and locked it in my trunk that morning before coming to the diner.”
I jotted it down. “Why did you have it? Isn’t it a group trophy?” A woman with wild mane of hair flaring from her ridged forehead spoke up. She sported a gray, leather bustier that flashed serious Klingon cleavage. “We took turns. There are ten of us, so each of us had custody of the uniform for thirty-six days. Since Dale was last, he got a few extra days with it.”
“Are you Melissa Sue?”
She nodded and Ma saluted her with a glass of blue alcohol. “Dale, why did you have it in the car if the ceremony was taking place here, in your bar?” I asked.
He raised both shoulders. “I thought we’d do it right after the battle, but people wanted to see the Ten-Forward Lounge, so I just left it in the car.”
“Was your trunk forced open?”
“No, everything looked normal. Until I opened it and found the uniform was gone.”
“Ma,” I said, “you saw the uniform before going into the movie theater for laser tag?”
“That’s right, toots. I peeked into Divak’s trunk and there it was, bundled up like a baby. He unwrapped it a little bit so I could see Captain Kirk’s signature.”
“But you didn’t get a good view of the whole thing?”
“Nope,” she said.
“Dale, were you alone when you went to get the uniform from your car?” I asked.
He hopped down from his bar stool, his brows drawn, and his forearms tensed. “What are you implying?”
“Chill. I’m just trying to get all the facts. Now, tell me who had custody starting with last year’s laser tag.”
They gave me the rundown. The order was determined by drawing names from a bowl. Maglus, a short man with a round belly, got the uniform first. Then on through the ranks until Melissa Sue, Brian, then finally Dale.
“Did you see anyone leave the laser tag area during the game? Anybody missing?”
They glanced at each other and shook their heads.
“Once you’re out of the game, you have to stand off to the side or go to the snack room,” Ax said.
Dale held up his hands as if he were trying to silence an angry mob. “Look, I know some of you are questioning my integrity, thinking I took the uniform. I didn’t.” He thumped his chest with one fist. “‘Ip jIH. I vow it.”
All the Klingons stood, raised their hands in the air, and cheered.
When they simmered down, I glanced at each of them in turn. “Something happened to it. So, who can get me a sit down with the SPuRTs?”
Every head turned toward Melissa Sue. “Not me,” she said. “Not anymore.”
“What does that mean?” I muttered to Ax.
He leaned in and spoke directly into my ear. “She used to date a Fleetie. They were engaged but broke it off a few months ago. It got nasty.”
“I want all the details later,” I said. Intergalactic love gone wrong? That sounded like a possible motive to me.
Brian raised his hand. “I’m friends with a few of the SPuRTs. I’ll see if I can get you a parley.”
“Thanks. Ax has my number, if you guys think of anything else, just call. And Brian, the sooner I can meet up with the Starfleet people the better. But I do have one question for all of you. What do you think happened to it?”
They each swapped looks, a few shrugged.
Ax answered for the group. “We’re not sure. But we need it back.”
As they started chattering amongst themselves, I grabbed my purse, shoved my notebook inside. “Has anybody checked online to see if the uniform popped up on any auction sites?” I asked with a raised voice.
