Eggs Benedict Arnold (29 page)

Gandle smirked.
“
You
’
re thick as thieves if you ask me.
”

“
And what
’
s this crap about Carmen opening a fine din
ing establishment?
”
asked Suzanne. She was more upset
over that little tidbit of
information
than she was about
Gene
’
s probing questions on the murders.

“
Carmen
’
s a pistol,
”
said Gene, glancing over at her
with admiration. Then he gave Suzanne a sly look.
“
What
’
s
wrong? Afraid of a little not-so-friendly competition?
”

“
Absolutely not, Gene,
”
said Suzanne.
“
It
’
s a big free-
market economy.
”

“
In that case,
”
said Gene,
“
how would you like to place
a couple of ads in the
Bugle
?
”

“
You
’
re selling ad space now, too?
”
asked Suzanne.

“
It
’
s commissionable, Suzanne. A guy
’
s got to earn a
living.
”

“
I think I
’
ll pass for the time being.
”

“
You should support your local paper, Suzanne,
”
glow
ered Gene.

“
I will just as soon as you start supporting your local
cafe,
”
countered Suzanne.

Chapter seventeen

“
You
’
ve
got to be kidding,
”
said Suzanne, when they
pulled into Hoobly
’
s parking lot at eight o
’
clock that night.
“
This dump is jumping.
”

The oversized Quonset hut out on County Road 18 had
desultory strings of Christmas lights dangling from its
rooftop, flashing yellow lights on the giant Hoobly
’
s sign
over the front door, and a parking lot jammed with pickup
trucks, SUVs, and older-model cars. There were even a couple of eighteen-wheelers parked out back where the
gravel edged up to a bean field.

“
Are there this many sorry people in the world?
”
asked Suzanne. Hoobly
’
s really did have a rotten reputation. Bikers, bookies, and even a few dope peddlers were known to
populate its murky interior.

“
Appears so,
”
said Toni.
“
Place is jam-packed.
”
She
fluffed her hair, wriggled her shoulders, and pulled her
snug-fitting jean jacket down over her hips.

“
Their drinks are supposedly watered down,
”
commented Suzanne.
“
And I
’
m sure the food is to
di
e
from.
Literally.
”

They clomped up onto the front porch and Toni put a hand on the rough-hewn door handle. Sensing Suzanne
’
s
reluctance, she said,
“
You
’
re not going to change your
mind, are you?
”

“
No, we
’
ve come this far,
”
said Suzanne, as faint strains
of country and western music wafted out to greet them.
“
And I
’
m just curious enough about Junior.
”

“
Okeydoke,
”
said Toni.

But when they pulled open the door and walked in, it was another story altogether. Country and western music
blared from the jukebox, a long bar filled with patrons
stretched off to their left, a sea of pool tables and a pull
tab booth was off on the right. A permanent blue cloud of cigarette smoke seemed to hover over everything.

“
Didn
’
t they ever hear of the Indoor Clean Air Act?
”
sniffed Suzanne.

“
Not here,
”
said Toni, pulling Suzanne through the crowd.
“
Not at Hoobly
’
s.
”

A man in a black T-shirt and trucker
’
s cap loomed in front of them.
“
Either of you gals care to dance?
”
he asked.

“
No, thanks,
”
said Toni, propelling Suzanne toward an
unoccupied booth in back.
“
Maybe later.
”

“
Maybe never,
”
said Suzanne, sliding across a cracked
black plastic seat.

“
You can
’
t be too harsh on these men,
”
said Toni.
“
These are the real people. The guys who drive the trucks, farm the
land, and ...
”

“
Hustle the chicks.
”
Suzanne laughed.

“
Yeah,
”
said Toni, laughing with her.
“
That
’
s about the
score, I guess.
”

“
But not wit
h
us tonight,
”
said Suzanne.

Toni turned grim.
“
Not until we figure out what that moron, Junior, is up to.
”

“
What if he doesn
’
t show?
”
asked Suzanne.

“
He
’
ll be here,
”
Toni assured her.
“
I
talked to him earlier
and casually asked if he was gonna drop by my place to
night.

He specifically said he was meeting somebody here
and that he
’
d come by late. Like not until eleven o
’
clock.
”

“
So now we wait,
”
said Suzanne, glancing around.

“
Maybe have a drink?
”
asked Toni. A waitress in low-slung blue jeans and a pink belly-grazing T-shirt plopped down coasters in front of them.

“
Why not?
”
said Suzanne.
“
Miller Lite. Bottle, if you have it.
”

“
Same here,
”
said Toni.

The waitress lifted an eyebrow.
“
You
ladies
see those two dudes sitting over there?
”

All three of them peered up the line of booths at two guys in western shirts and hats.

“
Uh-huh,
”
said Toni. She sounded just this side of interested.

“
They offered to buy you a drink,
”
said the waitress.

“
Tell
‘
em no thanks,
”
said Suzanne. She gave a little
wave toward the two cowboys.
“
Thanks anyway, guys.
”

One of them smiled and tipped his hat at her.

“
Well, wasn
’
t that nice and friendly?
”
said Toni.

“
Toni,
”
said Suzanne,
“
we
’
re here to spy, not do a meet and greet with cowboy Bob and his sidekick.
”

“
Still,
”
said Toni, a little wistfully,
“
it
’
s nice to get hustled once in a while. Helps build a girl
’
s ego.
”

But Suzanne had turned her eyes on a tawdry red velvet curtain that was rigged across a postage stamp-sized stage.
The music had suddenly changed from Kenny Chesney
’
s
“
Down the Road
”
to Rod Stewart
’
s
“
Do You Think I
’
m Sexy.
”

“
Oh man,
”
said Suzanne.
“
They have strippers!
”

Their waitress, who
’
d just arrived with their beers, said,
“
Oh sure,
”
as if it was the most natural thing on earth.

“
You didn
’
t mention strippers,
”
Suzanne hissed at Toni.

“
I thought you knew that,
”
said Toni.
“
Heck, I thought
everybody knew that.
”

The red velvet curtain suddenly parted to reveal a shiny
brass pole.

“
And not just regular strippers,
”
said Toni.
“
Pole danc
ers.
”
She sounded impressed.

“
And now,
”
came a deep, male voice over a crackly loudspeaker,
“
please welcome Lady Dubonnet!
”
There
were hoots and whistles as Lady Dubonnet, clad in skimpy
black push-up bra, fishnet stockings, and red thong, took the stage.

“
Ai yi yi,
”
Suzanne said wit
h
a laugh.

The scantily clad young woman crooked her leg around
the pole and spun enticingly as the music pulsed and throbbed:
If you really need me, just reach out and touch me, come on, honey, tell me so.

“
Now that takes skill,
”
said Toni.
“
Plus a certain amount
of poise.
”

“
Are you referring to parading in your un
di
e
s in front of
drooling men or just wriggling around in general?
”
asked Suzanne.

“
In general.
”
Toni giggled.

“
I
’
d think all that spinning would make a person dizzy.
”
Suzanne observed.

“
Probably just part and parcel of the job,
”
said Toni.
“
Occupational hazard.
”

“
I
’
d probably get an imbalance in my inner ear,
”
said Suzanne.

They sipped their beers and watched Lady Dubonnet perform her routine. When the song ended, she bowed to
an energetic round of applause and picked up several dollar
bills that had been carefully placed on the stage.