Heartache Motel: Three Interconnected Mystery Novellas (Henery Press Mystery Novellas) (4 page)

FIVE

On the way back to the motel, Roxy and I tried to talk Ma into staying somewhere else for the night, but she wasn’t having it.

“We can’t change now. We promised Ron we’d watch his performance.”

My eyes met Roxy’s in the rearview mirror. She rolled hers and sighed.

In the motel lobby, a quorum of impersonators had gathered around the Christmas tree. They all shimmied in their jumpsuits and had bad hair, but other than that they were as different as a UN coalition. African American, Middle Eastern, Female, and two Asian Elvises. In what could no way be described as harmonious, they belted out
In the Ghetto
.

I waved my peeps onward and strode to the abandoned front desk. I hit the bell and waited.

This time, a drag queen nun stepped out of the back room. “What do you need, honey?”

I thought about it for a second, then finally just asked. “A nun? What’s that about?”

She wasn’t as tall as Man-Margret, but she was every bit as spectacular, although not very nun-like in fabulous makeup and long red nails. “I’m Mary Tyler Moore. From
Change of Habit
?”

I shook my head. “Never saw it.”

She reached out and patted my arm. I noticed she wore the same charm bracelet as the clerk from the night before. Maybe it was standard issue.

“
Change of Habit
is Elvis’ last movie and it’s a treasure. He’s a doctor and Mary is a nun in plain clothes. You should rent it.”

“I just might. For right now, I need a few towels.”

After a quick—and icy—shower, I met the others in the hallway. We were headed to the Suspicious Minds bar. Roxy had her heart set on a Rock-a-hula cocktail and Ma couldn’t wait to see the impersonators. 

Once we stepped off the elevator, Ax pulled me aside. “I think someone was in my room earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d left my dirty clothes wadded up next to the bed, jeans at the bottom of the heap. When I got back, they were on top of everything else.”

“Maybe the maid looked in your pockets?”

“Maid? If a maid came by, she didn’t do anything other than rummage through my stuff. Joe sparked up last night. In order not to set off the fire alarm, he rolled a wet towel beneath the crack in the bathroom door. It was still on the floor when I got back and the beds weren’t made.” He rubbed at the patchy scruff on his jaw. “What do you think? Was someone, like, searching the room?”

We slowly walked into the bar, trailing behind the others. “Probably. Look around. Do you think all of these people are upstanding citizens?” The bar was teeming with Elvi, drag queens, and five grizzled men with mushroom-colored skin perched on barstools. “Roxy said the door handles are easy to jimmy. Anyone could have sneaked into your room.”

“Glad I always carry my crap with me.” He patted the shoulder strap of his backpack.

I nodded. “So, what do you think? Who’s the most real Elvis here?”

Ax nodded at a man wearing nothing but a pair of cowboy boots, an orange speedo, and a pair of gold sunglasses. “That dude’s, like, beyond. I hope he wins for sure.”

We wound our way through the crowd to where Ma, Roxy, and Stoner Joe sat. They all sipped from tiki glasses and wore plastic leis.

Ma held up her drink. “You want one?”

Ax nodded, but I declined.

Roxy leaned against me. “This drink is potent. Don’t know what they stick in here, but I’m feeling it. And it feels fine.” She snorted a laugh.

Getting my buzz on sounded good in theory, but in this craptacular motel, I figured one of us needed to stay vigilant. I caught myself scanning the room, skimming the pinball players and barflies, searching for Ron, but he wasn’t there.

Then a stunningly beautiful drag queen stepped onto a platform so tiny, she could barely take four steps in one direction before hitting the edge. Her pale pink dress cinched in at the waist and flared outward, held in place by layers of tulle. Her mile-high brunette beehive wobbled a bit as she pranced back and forth, microphone in hand.

“Hello, all you beautiful people. I’m Shelley Fabulous Fabares. And tonight we’re here to judge for ourselves who’s worthy of claiming the king’s crown.”

Woots and catcalls drowned her out. She waited a beat and stroked the length of the blue chiffon scarf she wore as a belt.

“Who can shake it and who can’t make it.” More cheers from the audience. Then in a very suggestive move, while biting her glossy lower lip, she shoved a hand into her bodice and removed a folded sheet of paper from her bra. The place erupted. “Sorry, darlings, that’s a restricted zone.” After unfolding the paper, she glanced at it. “Our first victim is Elvis Ron Michaels. Where are you, honey?” She held a hand over her brow and scoured the crowd.

There was no sign of him. “Ron?” she called.

“Where is he?” Ma asked. “He was so excited about this contest. He’s missing his big moment.”

I had a very bad feeling. “I know what room he’s in. I’ll go see if he’s okay. You stay here, Ma, and enjoy the show.”

“I’ll go with you,” Roxy said. “The bathrooms are too crowded and that drink is starting to kick my bladder’s ass. We can stop by our room on the way.”

“Since Elvis Ron is a no-show,” Shelley said from the stage, “I want all the Elvises up here. We’re going to narrow this down with a little Pelv-off. You in the Speedo, honey. Mama already likes you.” She crooked her finger at him.

“Be right back.” I stood from the table and squeezed through groups of people with Roxy on my heels.

We stepped out of the noisy bar and walked through the empty lobby side by side. At the elevator, I pushed the button and waited a full minute. I glanced at Rox. “Why don’t we just hit the stairs?”

“This place sucks. Have I mentioned?” She flung open the stairwell door and glanced over her shoulder. “And how do you know this guy’s room number? Does Sullivan need to be worried?”

“I saw Ron’s keychain this afternoon. Room four-oh-four.”

Roxy couldn’t take the steps at a jogging pace due to her platform boots, so I kept her company as we trekked upward. The once-white paint peeled in strips from the brick walls. It didn’t smell too great either.

“God, it reeks.” She covered her nose and mouth with one hand.

Glad to be free of the stairwell, we tromped down the hallway to Ron’s room. I pounded on the door.

Roxy shuffled from one foot to the other. “I really need to pee.”

I shot her a look. She was worse than my nephew.

I knocked a few more times. “Ron? Are you in there?” I leaned one shoulder against the door. “This is weird. I don’t think he would flake out on his big performance.”

Roxy reached into her poodle purse and removed her lock-picking tools. She never left home without them. “Move.”

I twisted my head, checking up and down the hallway while she made quick work of the lock.

“Even Stoner Joe could break in here without a problem. This is an insult,” she whispered.

Once she had the door open, she darted inside and then flipped on the light. I slipped in after her. Ron was staying in the
Fun in Acapulco
room. A movie poster hung on the wall next to a sombrero and a pair of maracas.

Roxy ran to the bathroom and shut the door. While she was otherwise occupied, I decided to do a little snooping. Spread out on top of the cheap dresser were headshots of all the drag queens working at the motel. I picked up a photo and could barely make out Man-Margret—the red hair tipped me off.  As I sifted through the rest, they all bore a resemblance to each other. Every shot had so much soft focus, the queens were merely fuzzy, colorful blobs. I flipped the picture around to the back, where the physical stats and work history were listed. I put the photo on the dresser and glanced at the unmade bed.

Roxy walked out of the bathroom a moment later. “Ron’s reading material of choice is
Playboy
and
Today’s Fisherman.
”

“A Renaissance man.” Bending to my knees, I glanced under the bed. Behind the frame leg, lay one of Ron’s missing rhinestones. Clear, rectangular, and as large as my thumb.

Roxy plucked it from my palm and held it up to the light. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was real.”

“Right. His cape was covered in real stones the size of the Hope diamond.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying it’s real, but it’s a good fake.” She placed it on the dresser. “What are all these headshots?”

“The drag queens.”

“Why the hell does he have professional photos of the dragsters?” she asked.

“Not a freaking clue.”

SIX

So where was Ron? My mind replayed the conversation from the stairwell. Who’d he been talking to? And what had Ron risked his ass for?

I had no answers and really, it wasn’t any of my business. I kept telling myself that, but the nagging little voice of concern wouldn’t shut up.

Roxy and I walked back to the bar and slid into our seats.

“Did you find him?” Ma asked.

“No, we even searched his room. Found pictures of the drag queens, but no Ron,” Roxy said.

“Too bad,” Ax said. “He seemed really psyched to perform.”

Ma waved her tiki glass toward the stage. “You missed the Pelv-off. But Axton took some pictures with that snazzy computer of his.”

“It was like an Elvis kaleidoscope,” Joe said. “Freaked me out.”

“Speedo Elvis won hands down, by the by,” Ax said. “My man was twerking it. And now I need another Rock-a-hula after witnessing that.” He signaled our waitress. “It was awesomely disturbing.”

Six-and-a-half feet of solid drag queen decked out in a red and white gingham dress, a sassy bandana tied around her neck, sauntered to the table. “Hey, y’all.” Stubby pigtails poked out on either side of her bouffant blonde wig.

“What movie are you from?” Ma asked.

Hand on her hip, she struck a pose. “
Kissin’ Cousins
. Elvis played twins.” She took Ax’s order and was back in a jiff, the requisite broken heart bracelet tinkling against her large wrist as she set the glass down.

“I’m going to go to the bar and grab a soda,” I said. I also wanted to question Shelley Fabulous. Why did Ron have pictures of the drag queens in his room?

The place was so packed, I had to wiggle between the standing room only peeps. For such a dive, it was crazy crowded. At the bar, I shoved my way between two heavy drinkers.

One of them gave me the stink eye, and I gave it right back until he downed the rest of his beer. Once he vacated the stool, I claimed it as my own.

Shelley Fabulous and a tall, chubby man, who dressed the part of Colonel Tom Parker, poured drinks and plunked them on the sticky, leather surface. Shelley stopped in front of me. “What can I get you?”

“Coke, please. By the way, you were amazing as emcee.”

“Thanks. It’s a pretty fun job.”

Before she could toddle off to fetch my drink, I placed my hand on her arm. “Hey, my uncle’s a female impersonator. How’d you land such a sweet gig? He’d love to work in a place like this.” I’m sure if I had an uncle, he’d love no such thing.

“Has he signed up with a talent agency?”

Bingo with the headshots. It still didn’t explain what Ron was doing with them, though. “Do you guys all work for the same agency?”

“Yeah, a local one. The competition for professionals is tougher than you might think.”

When she strutted away, my eyes drifted over the bar. Still no sign of Ron.

“You looking for someone in particular, darlin’?” a deep voice whispered in my ear. The young, hot impersonator—the one I kept running into. I twisted my head and gazed into those smoky sunglasses. He smiled, slow and sweet, like molasses in January.

“Hey, what’s with the sunglasses?” I asked. “It’s nighttime.”

“All part of the image, Rose.”

I spun on my seat to fully face him. “How do you know my name?”

“I overheard the older lady call you that this morning.”

Some of the tension ebbed out of my shoulders. “I didn’t see you in here earlier.”

His smile beamed a bit brighter. “You missed me, huh?” He slapped a hand over his heart. “Well, that’s real flattering.”

“I guess you could take it that way. I’m at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” This guy was as slippery as a raw egg and twice as fishy. All right, that made no sense, but something about him was sending my bullshit meter into overdrive.

“Daniel.” He held out his hand.

I stared at it for a brief moment before slipping my palm against his. “Nice to meet you. So, are you from Memphis or just visiting?”

“Just here to see the show. So who is that older lady anyway? Your grandmother?”

I was hesitant to give him even the slightest bit of information, but it was ridiculous not to admit she was my boss. “I work for her.”

Shelley strolled over to me. “Here’s your Coke, honey. Want me to put it on your bill?”

I smiled. “Yes, thanks.” I hopped off the stool. “See you around, Daniel.” As I walked back to the table, I felt his eyes on me. It made my neck itch.

I resumed my seat and Axton leaned over. “Who’s that guy you were talking to?”

“I don’t know, but I keep running into him and he’s very nosy. And he was quizzing me about that argument I overheard last night.”

“Sounds fishy to me,” he said. “Especially when Ron didn’t turn up for his performance.”

“Exactly.”