Bare-Naked Lola (A Lola Cruz Mystery) (26 page)

“She had an apartment—”

“It’s a cottage—”

“No, no. I mean in Sacramento.”

Tiffany cocked her jet black brows at me like I was crazy. “I’ve heard what people are saying about her, but they’re wrong. She didn’t have another apartment. She still owned this place with Craig. She had her cottage here. She didn’t need anyplace else.”

I let this information trickle through the crevices of my mind. Either Tiffany didn’t know Jennifer very well, or the apartment with all the jerseys and pictures of men didn’t actually belong to Jennifer. What if it was a front for someone else? Selma?

I kept my thoughts to myself and went back to my goal. The membership list. “I just want to see if I can figure out who killed her.”

Tiffany frowned, considering, then shook her head. “I just can’t do that.” She leaned toward me, lowering her voice. “If Craig found out, I could lose my job.”

I didn’t want her livelihood put in jeopardy, but I needed to see that list. “He won’t find out. Tiffany, Jennifer was murdered. The police think that apartment was hers. You’re saying it wasn’t. I need to find out the truth and I need your help.”

Another group of nudists barreled through the lobby on their way to the party—a body-painted Scooby led the way, followed by X-rated versions of Shaggy, Fred, Thelma, and Daphne. They glanced at me, each of them scoping me out with a full up and down perusal. Fred’s eyebrows pulled into a
V
and Thelma adjusted her fake thick black glasses. “Britney Spears, or are you from the old Van Halen video?”

Shaggy guffawed and slapped his bare leg. “‘Hot for Teacher,’ right? Smokin’, dude!”

“You got it. Doing it different tonight and actually wearing some clothes.” I could almost feel my nose growing. “Who knows what’ll come off later?” I added with a wink.

“Now you’re talking,” Shaggy said with his trademark warbly voice. “Catch you inside, schoolgirl.”

I threw up my hand in a flip wave, trying to mask the ick factor rolling over me. Cheesy pickup lines were bad enough in a good situation. Coming from a naked Shaggy, they were downright disgusting.

“You got it,” I managed, then quickly turned my back and pretended to examine the supplements and knick-knacks on the shelves while they checked in and finally passed through the door to the party.

As soon as they were gone, Tiffany beckoned me over. “I’ll let you see the names, but Craig’ll be back any minute and he’ll fire my ass if he finds out. You better hurry!”

I didn’t waste a single second. I threw the tub of powder back onto the shelf and practically catapulted across the small room and over the counter. “So how do you keep track of the guests?”

Tiffany had a wary eye on the door, but she pulled out a card file and set it on the counter. “Everyone has to check in here. We take the information card to verify the ID, collect the usage fee, and that’s it.”

“What about your computer?” I asked.

“I’m setting it up, but it’s not ready yet.”

¡Ay, caramba!
Not only did they live without clothes, they’d been living without technology. “So anyone can come at any time.”

“Right. A membership entitles you to certain perks, but otherwise, we’re open to the public.”

“And you never saw Jennifer with anyone in particular?”

She shook her head. “She knew everyone.”

Which made it difficult to hone in on her special friend.

I reached for the cards, but Tiffany zipped her mouth shut as a woman, wrapped in toilet paper, sauntered into the office. She checked in, then sashayed through the door to the party room.

Tiffany’s voluminous chest rose and fell with her breaths. “You have to hurry,” she said nervously. What, did she think Craig could materialize out of thin air?

“I will.” I put my hand on the index card file she’d set on the counter, but she held tight to it. “I promise,” I added when she didn’t let go.

Finally she released it to me. “Don’t tell a soul,” she said, her voice low. “This place is an oasis for people. A sanctuary. It’s private.”

“Got it.” The door opened again and the partygoer turned sideways to fit through the opening. Clear and white balloons attached to her bod, hitting the doorjamb as she passed. “Sorry. Omph! There we go.”

As she muttered to herself, a red flag shot up in my head. That voice. I turned to face the door. “Lucy?”

She maneuvered the last balloon through the door and whipped around to face me, her grin wide and toothy. “In the flesh.”

I couldn’t believe she’d said that with a straight face. She had a shower cap on her head, rosy cheeks, balloons from her torso to her shoulders, and below the waist she had a blue tutu.

“Is that supposed to be water?” I asked, poking my finger at the tulle.

“Clever, right? It’s Mia’s. Zac helped me with it.”

My brain screeched to a halt. She’d used her daughter’s tutu and—“Zac
helped
you? As in your husband
knew
you were coming here?”

She gave a sheepish grin. “I couldn’t really hide it from him—”

I sputtered, steam gathering in my head, but she hurried on. “It’s okay, Lola. He didn’t tell a soul, I promise.”

Tiffany glared at Lucy. “You didn’t tell me you were married last time. You can’t come in without your spouse.”

“No problem,” Lucy said brightly, adjusting one of her balloons.

Another red flag shot up. I grabbed her arm and yanked her aside. “No problem? What do you mean, no problem?” I said more harshly than I’d intended, but I had a sinking suspicion that I wouldn’t like what she was going to tell me.

She shook her arm free. “He didn’t want me to come alone. H-he’ll be here in just a minute.”

My head suddenly felt stuffed with cotton. “Here? He’s coming here?” Zac…my
primo
…my
cousin
…at
Cuerpo y Alma
? My
tía
Marina already thought I was corrupting my niece, Chely, what with my independent streak and P.I. job. Now
la familia
Cruz would blame me for bringing Zac and Lucy to a nudist resort.
Dios mío.

But behind the counter, Tiffany gave a satisfied dip of her chin. “Good.” Then she glanced at the wall clock. “Ticktock,” she said.

Right. Craig could waltz through the door any minute. I prioritized my thoughts. Membership list first. My cousin showing up here second.

Tiffany led Lucy and me into a room next to the office and handed me several more plastic boxes filled with file cards just like the ones we’d filled out the day we’d come with Selma. “Everyone’s in here?”

“Yes. Now hurry,” she said, scurrying back out to the front when the front door slammed and we heard the excited voices of more naked partygoers.

“Who’s the target?” Lucy asked, peering at the cards over her shimmering balloons.

I swallowed my anger at Lucy for telling Zac about my plan tonight, pushing it into the same compartment in my mind where Jack and Sarah and my future were hiding. “Anybody who’s a member here who’s also on this list,” I said, producing the printout of Jennifer Wallace’s bazillion Facebook friends.

Lucy eyed the list skeptically. “Really? I don’t have a photographic memory.”

Neither did I, which was why I’d spent two hours alphabetizing the names and organizing them so I could scan by the first letter of the last name.

We put the list between us. “I’d have made a copy if I’d known you were coming to help me.”

“You’re a detective. I figured you’d deduce that there was no way I’d leave you alone at this place.”

It
had
occurred to me, but I never thought Zac would be down with it. And would be coming, too.

I slammed the door on my thoughts and focused on the job at hand, peering through my fake glasses and tossing one ponytail behind my shoulder. Lucy was already sifting through her stack of index cards, glancing at the name then quickly cross-referencing on the printout before discarding it.

I did the same, and one by one, the stack of cards showing who was both a member of
Cuerpo y Alma
and a Facebook friend of Jennifer’s grew bigger.

Tiffany poked her head in a few times to check our progress. So far, Craig hadn’t shown up. Our luck held until we’d gone through the three containers full of cards. “Thirteen people,” I said when we were finished.

“But you can eliminate a few of them, right?” Lucy asked. “Selma. The woman Dierdre. I don’t think she could hurt a fly. Tiffany. Craig—”

I wish. “Can’t eliminate anyone.”

A man’s voice, loud and boisterous, shot through the closed door and Lucy and I both froze. I held my breath, ready to bolt. But the low, soothing murmur of a woman’s voice cut the tension in the air. Not Craig. I released the breath I’d been holding. My hands trembled at the thought of being discovered searching the files, such as they were.

“We can’t eliminate any of them, Lucy,” I said as I scribbled down the information from each card. Which wasn’t much. Gathering information about its members, growing a mailing list, or anything else that required more than a name and e-mail address wasn’t high on
Cuerpo y Alma
’s marketing plan. “Everyone’s a suspect.”

And really, since once a person was on the grounds, they could conceivably be anyone they wanted, who knew if the cross-referencing was completely accurate? They didn’t check IDs. A person could pretend to be anyone they wanted.

Something about the idea of a person pretending to be someone else struck me, but I couldn’t pinpoint why. I let go of the idea as we heard more voices pass through the lobby, and the rhythm of the music changed. I recognized Beyoncé’s voice telling the guys in the room to put a ring on it, followed by the crowd shouting, “And nothing else!” So they’d adapted this song to a nudist anthem.

“Let’s go,” I said, pushing away from the table.

I snapped my head up as Tiffany burst through the door. Lucy lurched into the edge of the table, surprised, and
Crack!
one of her balloons popped.

“He’s coming,” Tiffany hissed, snatching the card files from the table and shoving them back onto the bookshelf where they’d been.

I jerked as my heart catapulted into my throat. What now? I quickly folded the list of Facebook names into a small square, jamming the paper into my knee sock.

She rolled her hand in the air as if that could speed us up. “Hurry!”

We moved, making it to the front room barely a second before Craig, dressed as a construction worker with a tool belt slung around his hips, a yellow hardhat—
y nada más
—marched through the door.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Another group of people was right on Craig’s heels. Behind me, Lucy screeched. I tore my gaze away from Craig, the naked Village People construction worker, and turned to the new revelers.

There was a familiar face. I swallowed. Did a double take. Oh boy. Zac. I quickly dipped my head, squinting my eyes a moment later as I peered up. He was my cousin. Curiosity about what costume he and Lucy had rustled up for him got the better of me.

I dared to focus as Lucy raced past me, her balloons bobbing around her. Zac was bare-chested, a kids’ pool float around his hips. Bright blue bike shorts.
Phew!
I breathed out, relieved that I hadn’t corrupted my
primo
.

Lucy fell into Zac’s arms, bending at the hips so she wouldn’t crush her balloons or the aired-up duck floatie he wore. I couldn’t help but laugh. Water, bubbles, and a rubber ducky. They were so sweet together at the nudist resort Halloween bash.

The other people who’d come in weaved around them. I studied each one, combing through my memory to see if any of them had been in the photos at Jennifer Wallace’s house.

None of their faces set off alarms in my head.

“You’re here,” a man’s voice said in my ear. “I knew you’d come.”

“Craig,” I said, turning to him, pretending to be the best new, reluctant nudist I could muster. Which wasn’t a stretch.

“Are you checked in?”

“Lucy and I are. Her husband isn’t.”

“Tiffany,” Craig said, an unspoken command in the one word. He never took his eyes off me. Which meant he must have really been over Jennifer.

Tiffany took out a new index card and slid it to Zac. “Name and e-mail address,” she said.

Zac walked toward the counter like he was a prisoner about to walk the plank rather than a man about to party with a bunch of nudists. “Do I have to give my real name?” he muttered in my direction as he passed.

“No,” I said.

“This is your doing,” he said to me in Spanish, talking from between clenched teeth.

“I didn’t ask either of you to come,” I answered back under my breath. Speaking Spanish was like a secret code language and it came in handy sometimes. Like now.

“How about a personal tour of the grounds?” Craig asked, dropping his arm across my shoulders and guiding me away from Zac.

A shiver wound through me, but I pushed away the creepy factor of taking a private walk with an X-rated construction worker. “Definitely,” I said, walking quickly toward the door, forcing his hand off my shoulder.

“How are you doing, Craig?” a woman’s voice said. I turned back to see Deirdra, the woman who’d chased down Lucy, Selma, and me outside the restaurant last time we’d been here. She was dressed as Cleopatra, with an Elizabeth Taylor–style cornrowed black wig and gold tassels, but minus the toga. Gold bracelets climbed up her arms and a wide belt was slung low on her hips.

“Hanging in there, thanks,” Craig replied.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

He took off his hardhat, scratching his head. “My ex-wife died a few days ago.”

I shot a glance at Dierdre. Had she asked him about Jennifer for my benefit? She winked, confirming it.

“Wow,” I said, jumping at the opening and turning back to Craig. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have kids? That would be awfully hard.”

“No. No kids.” He shrugged, putting the yellow hat on and pushing it down on his head with the palm of his hand. “She lived here, so we still saw each other, but we’d both moved on, you know?”

Which explained the private tour of the grounds I was about to get.