Authors: Laura Childs
“Okay,” said Suzanne,
trying to keep the conversation
light, even though a nervous buzz had started pulsing in
her brain. A warning
blip that said,
Something’s about to
happen here.
“You darkened my
doorway and said you had
important
news for me.”
Toni cleared her
throat, then said, “Here’s the thing. I
know it’s gonna sound weird, but
we’ve got some informa
tion that relates to Chuck Peebler’s murder.”
“What?” said Suzanne.
Toni held up a
finger. “Strangely enough, it also dove
tails with your looking into
things as a special favor to
Jane...”
“Okay,” said Suzanne,
wishing Toni would get to the
point.
“The thing is,” said
Toni, “it’s something that could sort
of...” She searched for the right word. “...
impact
the
investigation.”
“I’m listening,” said
Suzanne, wiggling a foot ner
vously, wondering where all this was going.
Toni took a quick sip
of wine, set her glass down, and
said, “Junior took me out to Hoobly’s earlier tonight
for a
beer and burger.”
Suzanne wanted to say,
Big mistake,
but didn’t. Instead
she said, “Uh-huh.”
“After we
were done eating, I ducked into the ladies’
room,” said Toni. “And that’s
when I ran into Kit.”
Kit looked slightly
embarrassed.’ “The dancers don’t have their own bathroom like they do at big
clubs,” she explained.
“We were
standing at the mirror,” said Toni, “minding our own business and refreshing
our lip gloss. And some
how we started talking about Chuck Peebler’s murder.
Which is on
everybody’s
radar right
now.”
Suzanne gave an
acknowledging nod.
“Anyway,” said Toni,
looking decidedly nervous and
taking another sip of wine, “we jabbered about the
murder
and...
well, you tell her, Kit Tell Suzanne exactly what
you told me.”
Kit
stared at Suzanne with big, guileless eyes. “Chuck
Peebler, the guy who was killed
last night... ?” She hesi
tated,
her courage seeming to falter.
“Yes,”
said Suzanne, tiredness seeping into her voice
now. “Toni and I were there when
it happened, and I’m
sure she gave you all the gruesome details.”
‘True crime, up close
and personal,” muttered Toni.
“And what about
Peebler?” Suzanne asked Kit.
“Well,”
said Kit, “Chuck Peebler used to ... how shall I phrase this? He used to
frequent Hoobly’s.”
“You mean he was
campaigning there?” asked Suzanne.
“Asking for votes? Glad-handing the customers,
such as
they are?”
“Actually, it was
more like manhandling,” said Kit, in a
disgusted voice.
“What!” said Suzanne.
Now they really had her attention.
“Peebler used to hang
around Hoobly’s and pester all
the girls who worked there,” explained Kit “But most of
all, he had a thing for dancers.”
“Lot of
that going around,” muttered Toni. “Pestering,
I mean.”
“Wait a minute,” said
Suzanne, holding up an index fin
ger. “Peebler was old enough to be...” Her mouth snapped
shut this information
was not only weird; it put a whole
new spin on things’. “I had no idea,” Suzanne
murmured, still digesting Kit’s words. “But, but...” She knew she was
sputtering now. “Peebler
was running for office! He was on
the ballot to be mayor of Kindred!”
“Interesting, huh?”
said Toni.
“And if
you can believe the straw poll that the
Bugle
conducted,” said Suzanne, “Peebler
was even showing a
slight lead over Mayor Mobley.” She inclined her head to
ward Kit. “You sure about this?”
Kit nodded. “Oh yeah.”
“Kit’s
not making this up,” said Toni. “She wouldn’t do
that.”
“You’d
think Peebler would have been a whole lot more
careful,” said Suzanne, “considering
Hoobly’s is a fairly public place. That he would have toed the line and con
ducted himself with a little more dignity.”
“It sure
isn’t dignified to chase girls half your age,”
agreed Toni.
“You got that right”
said Kit “but the thing is, Peebler
went beyond that. He was... creepy. Always sitting
at
the
edge of the stage, flashing a wad of cash, trying to,
you know, tantalize the girls
with what he thought was his power and magnetism. Then he’d hang out by the
dressing
rooms,
trying to grab a look-see, always talking a steady
stream of patter. A little nasty,
a whole lot aggressive.”
“You could knock me
over with a feather right now,”
said Suzanne. Peebler had been a card-carrying member
of the Methodist
church. He’d served on the school board.
True, he was a single man, but he’d
always acted conservative.
Looked
conservative in his JCPenney suits.
Had prob
ably voted
Republican, too.
“Tell her the rest,”
Toni urged, polishing off the last of
her wine.
“There’s more?” said
Suzanne.
Kit glanced about
nervously. Baxter, seeming to sense
her unease, pulled himself up and padded over to
her. Kit
draped
an arm around Baxter’s furry neck and continued,
as if heartened by his display
of doggy solidarity. “And
the really weird thing,” continued Kit, “is that Peebler
had
pretty
much singled out one girl as his ... favorite.”
“You?” Suzanne asked,
fearing the worst.
Kit gave
a vehement shake of her head. “No, not me,
thank goodness.”
Suzanne pursed her
lips together. “So what exactly are
you saying? That Chuck Peebler had been stalking
one girl
in particular?
Harassing her?”
“Harassing,” said Kit.
“Yes, I’d say that pretty much hits
the nail on the head. Peebler would tail her to
her car, try
ing to put his hands all over her. Made overt suggestions
that they hook up.”
Kit let loose a deep and heavy sigh.
With her
fortysomething years of experience behind
her, Suzanne wanted to say,
What
did you expect would
happen out there? You gals are dancing under red lights
in your Victoria’s Secret underwear?
But she didn’t. This wasn’t the
time or the place to deliver a lecture.
“So what’s the bottom
line on this?” Suzanne asked.
“Are you saying that this girl might have despaired of
Pee
bler’s unwanted attention
and taken matters into her own hands? That she
killed
Peebler?” Just
verbalizing the notion sounded awfully crazy to her.
“Or maybe her jealous husband did,” Toni
muttered.
“What particular dancer are we talking
about?” asked Suzanne. So far, no names had been mentioned, but she knew there
had to be at least a dozen different girls who performed on Hoobly’s red-lit
stage. All of whom must
have acquired a
certain patina of toughness by now.
Toni and Kit glanced nervously
at each other. Silence hung heavy between them.
“You guys drove all
the way over here just to drink wine
and clam up?” Suzanne asked, putting a little
extra oomph
in her voice.
Kit dropped her head
forward, her fine blond hair drap
ing across her face. “Okay,” she said. “It was Sasha.”
“Sasha,” said Suzanne, not recognizing the
name. “I don’t think I know her.”
“That’s ‘cause you don’t go to Hoobly’s,”
said Toni.
“That’s right,” Suzanne agreed. “And
neither should either of you ...” She caught herself. “However, that’s a
discussion better left for another day. So ... Kit, tell me exactly why you
think Sasha might be involved in Chuck Peebler’s murder?”
“Because Sasha wasn’t afraid to stand up to
Peebler,”
said Kit. “She was tough and
tenacious and even threatened
to kill him if he ever laid a hand on her.”
“You actually heard her say this?” asked
Suzanne.
Kit nodded vehemently.
“So did some of the other girls.
And
Frankie, the owner.”
“Huh,” said Suzanne thinking. She picked up
the bottle of Barolo, poured the last half inch into her wineglass,
picked up the glass, and swirled it around,
contemplating
what Kit had told her.
“What’s Sasha’s last
name?” Suzanne finally asked.
“O’Dell,” said Kit.
“Oh
crap,” said Suzanne. She was pretty sure O’Dell
had been one of the names on the
deer-hunting licenses that
Doogie
had tracked down via the DNR.
“What’s wrong?” asked
Toni, suddenly on the alert.
“Nothing, I hope,”
replied Suzanne. “But we have to tell
Doogie.” She made a slight grimace. Better to get
it all out
in
the open. “The thing is, Doogie’s already talked to the
DNR officials about
bow-hunting licenses and O’Dell was
one of the names they gave him.”
“Holy moley,” said
Toni, giving a low whistle, “I think
you’re right.”
“I really
didn’t come here to get Sasha and Mike in trou
ble,” said Kit, a touch of
defiance creeping into her voice.
“You know,” said
Suzanne, “I think it might be a little
late for that.”
“You think Kit’s
friend is in trouble?” asked Petra, stand
ing at her butcher-block table,
chopping onions. “What was
her
name again? Sasha?”
“Yes, I do,” said
Suzanne, watching Petra’s knife flash
back and forth. “Or maybe Sasha’s husband is.”
She’d
brought
Petra up to speed on the conversation from the
night before because she wanted
to get her take on the situ
ation.
“I
guess you can’t go
around threatening to kill a guy,”
said Petra, “even if he is a no-good jerk.” She
chopped furiously for a few moments, then looked up and blinked. “Do
you think anybody
else in Kindred knows Peebler was a
no-good jerk?”
“Only if
they patronized Hoobly’s,” said Toni, as she
bumped open the swinging door
and made her way into the
kitchen. “If they hung around to shoot a little eight
ball or
check out the dancers.”
“And all the while
Peebler put up a carefully cultivated
front,” said Petra. “Passed himself off as a
trusted pillar
of the community, managed to get himself on the ballot
for mayor. He was even
vice president of the Downtown
Booster
Club, for gosh sakes.”
“Now they’ll just have
to boost without him,” said Toni.
Petra dumped a heaping
pile of chopped onions into an
aluminum bowl already filled with chopped red peppers.
Today was Hot Mama
Frittata day at the Cackleberry Club
and Petra was prepping like crazy. “What irks me
is that
I
would have voted for Peebler! If he hadn’t been killed,
that is.”
“A lot of people
would have,” said Suzanne.
“Want to know what’s
really sad?” Toni asked, pouring
herself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. “Peebler’s
secret
life practically makes our incumbent Mayor Mobley
the moral choice for mayor. That
and his untimely death.”
“Don’t kid yourself,”
said Suzanne. “Mobley’s just as
bad. Maybe worse.” She’d heard constant rumors about
Mobley’s
improprieties regarding zoning committees and
planning boards. Grease his
chubby little palms with green
backs and your building or zoning plans, no matter how
un
favorable
to Kindred, would get rubber-stamped and shoot
right through city hall, like
grain through a goose.
“Oh no!”
Petra screamed. Then lost her focus and
dropped her knife on the floor.
‘Toes up!” shouted
Toni.
“What’s
wrong?” asked Suzanne. Petra was generally
unflappable, but this Peebler
dung really had her going.