“And I need to make sure everything’s in order before I close up the boutique. I have to pay a few bills and make payroll before I leave. What time do you want to meet in the morning?”
“Seven o’clock should give us plenty of time to get there and set up shop. Maybe we can enjoy a good meal and relax before the festivities begin on Friday.”
Susan wasn’t into gambling, but she knew A. K. loved the one-armed bandits. She rubbed her fingers together. “You feeling lucky?”
“Always, but I’ll make sure to consult my crystal ball before we leave. I like having an edge.”
Early Wednesday morning, Susan and A. K. parked their cars in the back lot of the Bawdy Boutique then climbed into the van and headed east on I-12 to the Gulf Coast. Both wore dark shades to fight off the piercing rays of the morning sun. However bright this heavenly intruder, it paled in comparison to the light Susan had experienced yesterday.
A. K.’s wrist flopped over the top of the steering wheel as she motored down the interstate, the speedometer hovering at seventy miles per hour. “What do you think? If we turn a big profit, should we invest in the van?”
Susan shifted her weight in the passenger seat. “Any chance we could find something a little more comfortable?”
“We could opt for a motor home and modify the interior, but that would cost big bucks.”
“Pass. I’ll settle for less comfort and more profits.” Susan looked through the back window into the cargo area. “Everything seems to be staying in place.” Then she turned her gaze out the side window. “The interstate might shorten the time to get there, but the route lacks the beauty of the coastal road. I remember driving from Pass Christian to Biloxi, watching the Gulf for miles with its white sand beaches. It’s a timeless scene, you know—the same today as it was hundreds of years ago, and it will be unchanged long after we’re dead and gone.”
A. K. moaned. “Thank you, Little Miss Sunshine. Nothing like a little cheer to start the day. When I see the beaches, all I think about are beer parties, sunburns, and bonfires. But considering what we’re hauling, right now I’m picturing pirates and buried treasure. I only wish that Jack could be here to play make-believe with me. Come on, girl. Get with it.”
Susan wished it were that easy. What she wouldn’t give for a real crystal ball. “You’re right,” she said. “Let’s find some good music.” She finally decided on a station, and for the next hour or so, they had a sing-along. Before she knew it, they were approaching Biloxi.
A. K. turned off the interstate for the short drive to Beach Boulevard. They passed a few casinos on the waterfront before the Pirates’ Reef came into sight. It was hard to miss the hotel with its replica of a Spanish galleon marking the entrance. A gigantic skull and crossbones flag hung from the top floor. Across the bottom of the flag, it beckoned all landlubbers to join the festivities.
They turned into the circular drive and rolled past flaming torches to the main entrance where hotel personnel rushed to greet them.
“Allow me, madam.” A young man with dark hair and eyes opened Susan’s door and gave a sweeping bow. He looked to be in his early twenties. “Do you have reservations or are you here to enjoy the casino?”
Another employee greeted A. K. with the same enthusiasm.
Susan stood eye to eye with the modern-day cavalier. “The manager, Mr. Fleming, gave us permission to set up a costume shop for the festival. I’m Susan Griffin, and my business partner is A. K. Williams.”
His dark eyes sparkled even brighter. “Mr. Fleming told me all about you. When I saw the van, I was hoping you were the costume lady. Serious gamblers don’t usually arrive in such a wagon.” He grinned, showing straight white teeth against his olive complexion. “I am so ready to pick out my costume.” His lips curled.
The man’s demeanor was far from macho, and his unpretentious attitude appealed to Susan. She took an immediate liking to the fellow. “And you are…?”
“I’m Miguel Santos, manager over the desk clerks, but right now, we’re all doing whatever we can to accommodate visitors. We’re booked solid, so the festival should be a real blast.” He turned and motioned to other male employees at the front doors. “Need help here.”
A. K. unlocked the back door to the van, and Miguel pulled out the loading ramp. Standing on tiptoes, he leaned forward and ogled the hanging outfits. “My, my, look at all the goodies.”
He reminded Susan of a little boy in a candy store. “Mr. Fleming said he would provide a kiosk for us on the mezzanine.”
“It’s ready for you. I’ll have everything delivered to your location, along with your luggage. You and your friend can check in at the front desk and join me when you finish. Mr. Fleming has provided complimentary rooms for each of you close to your kiosk, and you needn’t worry about security. There will be hotel personnel on duty at all times, and the kiosk can be locked. Leave your keys in the ignition. The valet will park your vehicle.”
“Wonderful,” A. K. said. “Now, all I need are directions to the slots.”
“A girl after my own heart,” Miguel said, patting his pocket.
Stepping into the lobby of the hotel was like stepping into the past. Giant palms rose twenty feet high against fake stone walls. Distressed trestle tables, topped with lanterns and surrounded by wooden captain chairs, transformed the contemporary lobby into a dock-side tavern of the seventeen hundreds. Barrel fountains and exotic birds in cages added sound to the illusion.
“Far out, huh?” Susan said, gawking at the surroundings as she approached the check-in desk. It had to have cost a fortune for the decorations, way beyond her budget.
“All that’s lacking are people in costumes.” A. K. nudged Susan. “Take a gander over there. I wouldn’t mind dressing up that hunk.”
A tall man with bulging muscles beneath a skin-tight tee shirt returned A. K.’s stare.
“Bet he’s a bouncer.”
“Probably, but despite all that testosterone, I’d settle for Jack in scrubs any day.”
Ever since Jack had come into A. K.’s life, it was obvious that her friend’s flirting meant nothing. One had only to watch the two together to realize things were heating up between them. Susan expected any day for them to make the big announcement.
Susan was happy for them. And more than anything, she longed to spend the rest of her life with Wesley, but one obstacle stood in their way—his job. She wanted a long-term relationship, and his line of work couldn’t guarantee that. She had only to look at Melanie to know what could happen.
Susan plopped her oversized purse on the counter. “Susan Griffin and A. K. Williams to check in,” she said to a wisp of a girl with a baby face. Why was it with each passing year, kids looked younger and younger, while her mirror told another story?
“Oh, you’re the costume ladies! Mr. Fleming is anxious to meet you. I’ll be right back.”
A few steps down from the counter, the girl knocked and entered another door. Seconds later, she returned, followed by a man who could double for Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot. With a perfectly curled, thin mustache and coifed dark hair, the pudgy, little man extended a hand in greeting. Keeping in character, he wore an immaculate white linen suit. The only things missing were his monocle and French accent.
“I’m so glad to make your acquaintance. With your help, this is going to be our best festival ever. Your kiosk is ready, and your complimentary rooms are nearby. Their room cards, please,” he said to the desk clerk, who placed them in his hand. He in turn handed them to Susan. “If there’s anything you need, just let me know. I do, however, have a favor to ask. Would it be possible for you and Ms. Williams to outfit the staff today? I’d love to have them in costume when the guests arrive. Of course, all their expenses will be covered by the hotel.”
“Sure. As soon as we get set up, I’ll send word by Miguel.”
“Oh, Miguel, he’s a jewel. If you can’t find me, he can see to your needs.”
After receiving the room cards, Susan tugged on A. K.’s arm, finally breaking her concentration on Mr. Muscles.
Miguel was waiting for them on the mezzanine. “I see you have your pass card. I took the liberty of putting your bags in your room. Here’s the key to the kiosk. The expandable gate is light and easy to close.”
“Thanks.” Susan dropped the key to the kiosk in the cash box. “Give us a minute to set things in order, then you can let Mr. Fleming know that we’re ready to outfit the staff.”
She and A. K. arranged the garment racks and placed the accessories on display counters. Near the rear of the kiosk, she found a niche for her cash box and credit card machine.
A. K. grabbed Miguel by the arm. “Come here, you young thing. With your dark hair and eyes, you’d make a perfect Jack Sparrow.”
Susan gave him a thumbs-up.
“Works for me,” Miguel said. “You pull together what we’ll need, and I’ll be back in a minute. I know Mr. Fleming is anxious to get started outfitting the employees.”
For the next couple of hours, A. K. and Susan played paper dolls with real live people. They dressed the women in costumes ranging from modest maidens to anything but. Lace-up vests and high top boots flew off the shelves, along with ragged-hemmed skirts and matching scarves. Of course, the fake jewelry was a big hit.
The men opted mostly to go as a member of a barbarous crew or a scurrilous captain. But a few decided to take the high ground and dressed in the uniforms of the British. The blue coats with gold trim made quite a showing. Regardless of their choice, they all were quick to brandish sabers or knives.
Despite the hotel having a large number of employees, the staff failed to make a dent in their inventory. A. K. had known what she was doing when she placed her order.
Susan didn’t waste any time asking about Lorraine and was surprised to discover that Lorraine had worked at this very same hotel. The current hostess had been hired to replace Lorraine but had never met her. Being from Vegas, the new hostess didn’t have previous knowledge of anyone at the hotel. Susan kept the questions casual, things like how long had they worked with Lorraine, what was she like. She didn’t mention that Lorraine had been murdered. She’d save that bombshell for Miguel, who she bet knew more than anyone.
When the last of the staff exited the mezzanine in their costumes, Miguel joined Susan and A. K. again. “My crew looks great, and I’m ready for my Jack Sparrow disguise.”
The last of the employees, Sam the bartender, lingered in front of a mirror. “I really do look good, don’t I?” he said to Susan.
“Indeed, you do, Captain Hook. Have you worked here long?”
“A couple of years.”
“So you probably knew Lorraine.”
“You mean our last hostess? How do you know her?”
“She was from my hometown.”
“I hated to see her go. Some of the staff didn’t care for her snooty attitude.” He took one more look at himself in the mirror. “Well, I’d better get to my post.” Sam waved his infamous prosthesis in the air. “Crocs be damned,” he shouted. “I’ll hang the varmint’s hide to the mizenmast.” He strode toward the stairs with a swagger that would have made John Wayne proud.
“That’s the spirit,” A. K. called after him. “And speaking of spirits, I’m past due. Miguel, I’m going to leave you in good hands. Susan knows what to do. You’ll look fantastic.”
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Susan said to A. K. then turned her attention to Miguel. She handed him a blousy shirt and a tight-fitting pair of pants. “Change into these behind that screen, and we’ll go from there.”
While Miguel put on the garments, Susan continued to talk with him. “How long have you lived in Biloxi?”
He stepped from behind the screen and put his other clothes on a counter. “All my life.”
Susan tied a sash around his waist and tucked a black-powder pistol into it. “Hold on. We’re not finished yet.” She positioned a wig designed after Sparrow’s likeness on his head. “Ha, yes, just a few more things.” A tricorn hat and a pair of boots completed the outfit. “Perfect. So, you’ve lived here all your life? Then you must know a good many people.”
“Mostly those in the hotel industry. I started working the strip when I was in my teens. Did various jobs at the casinos in Gulfport and Biloxi, but I settled on the Pirates’ Reef. Mr. Fleming believed in me, gave me a chance to prove myself, and I worked my way up. I’ve been here five years.” His smile reached from ear to ear. “Don’t plan on working anywhere else.”
He put on the hat and boots then took a stance in front of a floor-length mirror. “Awesome!”
“One more thing.” Susan handed him a makeup kit. “You can’t put too much mascara around the eyes.” She grinned. “I suppose you knew Lorraine, too.”
“Of course. I couldn’t believe it when she up and left.” Miguel paused. “You said ‘I suppose you knew her.’ Did something happen to her?”
“She’s dead.”
Miguel’s mouth opened. She thought he was going to say something, but he apparently changed his mind. Then he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear that. How’d she die?”
“She was murdered in Palmetto, my hometown.”
He gave a low whistle. “How? Who did it?”
“They’re waiting for an official determination.” Susan thought it best not to give him the gory details. “The investigators still don’t have a suspect. How well did you know her?”
“About as well as anyone. We’re like family here at the Pirates’ Reef. Not much goes on that the others don’t know about.”
“Did she have someone special in her life?”
Miguel’s eyes narrowed, and he backed away. “Where’s this going? Why all the questions?”
“I’m close to a detective investigating Lorraine’s case and thought maybe I could find out something about her past. She left Palmetto so long ago, most everyone lost contact with her. Anything you know about her might help in his investigation.”
“Hey, we’ve all made mistakes from time to time, and I’m not one to point a finger. It would be hearsay anyway, and I sure don’t want to get mixed up in a murder case.”
He hugged his arms to his body as if to wall himself off from her. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t about to share it.
“I understand, but if you change your mind, I promise to pass it on as an anonymous source. It’s just that my friend is having a really tough time finding leads.”