Death By A HoneyBee (25 page)

   
I arrived a little after ten, explaining to the doorman that I had an appointment to see Goldie.
 
While he looked skeptical, he made a call on the house phone.
 
I stood out of the way while other patrons paid their cover charge to get in.
 
The odors of alcohol, men’s cologne with body odor and baby powder ran together.
 
The waitresses wore jockey hats and satin low-cut blouses that tied around the waist accompanied by jodhpurs and knee-high riding boots.
 
I thought they were sexier than the near naked women dancing on the stage.
 
Finally, the door manager’s phone rang.
 
He listened and hung up.
 
“Go to the last door on the left.”

   
Nodding thanks, I pushed my way through a hothouse of men of all shapes and sizes looking for a good time.
 
Someone cupped my ass as I made my way through.
 
I didn’t even look back.
 
I just kept moving forward until I got to the hallway.
 
Knocking on the last door, I got a faint response.
 
Opening the door gingerly, I peeped in to find a spacious, professional and very clean office.
 
It looked like it belonged to an accountant, which made the nearly nude woman sitting in a chair out of place.
 
She had on a flimsy robe through which I could see every dimple, every curve underneath.

   
Sitting behind her desk, Goldie motioned me to sit down in a leather stuffed chair.
 
“This is Daisy,” introduced Goldie.
 
“She says one of your girls came in last night throwing around a lot of cash.
 
Daisy entertained her privately and overheard her talk on her cell phone.”

   
I looked at Daisy, who sported a feathered blond haircut and a barbwire tattoo around one of her wrists. She had nice full breasts, one of which had a nipple ring.
 
The sight of it made me wince.
 
Goldie handed me Nancy’s picture.
 
                                                                                                                                             

  
“You said this woman came in last night?”

  
“She came in right around eleven-thirty.
 
Her name is Nancy.
 
She sometimes comes in with another chick.”
 

  
I held up Taffy’s picture.
 
“This girl?”

  
“Yeah, right, but usually without her.
 
She’s a lesbo.
 
One of my regulars.
 
Drinks a lot and then asks for private lap dances.”
 
                                                                                                                                     

  
“Lap dances?”

  
“Yeah, sometimes five before she leaves.”

  
“Isn’t that expensive?”

  
“Yeah, but that’s not my problem.”

  
“Does dancing for women bother you?”

  
“No, I sometimes date women myself.
 
So do many of the girls who work here.”
  

  
“Of course.
 
I’m sure Goldie has filled you in that someone ran me off the road the other day and nearly killed me – totaled my car.
 
I think it was Nancy but I can’t prove it.
 
Did she say anything that might help me?”

  
“She was talking to some bimbo on her cell.
 
I think the other girl was leaving her, ’cause she started crying.
 
She said stuff like, ‘I know I shouldn’t have done it, but that bitch made me so mad.
 
The police will never make the connection.’
 
Stuff like that.”

   
“Sounds like she may be your girl,” commented Goldie.

   
“Could be, or could be she was talking about a parking ticket. Anything else?”

   
Daisy shook her head.
 
“Look – I’ve got a show coming up, so I gotta go.
 
I wish I could help you more. Having someone hit my car and run off would make me really mad but that’s all I heard.
 
I hope you catch the creep who did it.”

   
“Well, I appreciate it.”
 

   
“On your way out, catch my act.”

   
Thanks.
 
I might.”

   
Daisy ran off to do her show while Goldie and I made small talk about people we both knew.
 
Almost forgetting, I pulled out several jars of Wildflower Honey from my coat.

   
“Hey, you remembered,” Goldie cried happily.
 
She seized the bottles with gusto, locking them up in her desk.
 
Looking at my startled expression, she replied, “If I don’t, the girls will
borrow
them.”
 
She rose from her desk.
 
My time was over.

   
As we were both walking out, I asked, “Hey Goldie, don’t women date men anymore?”

   
“Honey, people don’t date anymore.
 
They hook up.
 
We are both old dinosaurs.
 
Gotta get used to the way the world is today.”

   
Goldie escorted me out of her office pledging that she would call if she heard anything else.
 
She gave me a goodbye bear hug.
 
Plunging back onto the floor, I saw that Daisy was performing.
 

    
I don’t understand pole dancing.
 
I prefer the feather-fan strip-tease era with strippers like Gypsy Rose Lee and Sally Rand, but Daisy wasn’t half bad.
 
The men looking at her were seemingly in a trance.
 
Once in a while, one would reach up and put money between her legs.
 
Daisy had muscles like a vise-grip, never letting a dollar drop. I scooted my way to the door.
 
Seeing me, Daisy winked and blew me a kiss. I stepped out into the cold air.
     

20

    
It was finally in the paper that a memorial service was scheduled for Richard.
 
I could now have contact with Tellie with a good excuse.
 
I would just go to pay my respects while hoping to find out stuff – what stuff I didn’t know.

    
I donned a black dress I had worn when I was pregnant.
 
I brushed my red hair into a tasteful French twist and applied an appropriate color of lipstick.
 
My shoes were free of debris and polished.
 
Feeling like I had a fighting chance of looking respectable, I entered the church early and found Tellie with only one other person paying her respects.
 
When their conversation had ended, I approached Tellie, softly calling her name.

   
Tellie turned.
 
She studied me with unbridled mistrust.
 
“Josiah, how nice of you to come,” she said stiffly.

   
“Should I be sorry for your loss?”
 
Damn it.
 
Couldn’t I have said something less antagonistic?

   
She snorted.
 
“You still have that sharp tongue.
 
One of these days, it’s going to cut you.”

   
I tried a more subtle approach.
 
“Tellie, I
am
truly sorry for your loss.
 
I know what it is to lose someone.”

   
“Yes, Brannon.
 
Wasn’t he living with a much younger woman when he died?”

   
I flinched.
 
“Let’s bury the hatchet, okay?
 
I don’t want to make trouble but I do think we need to talk.”

   
“About what?”

   
“Some strange things have been happening to me.
 
I thought maybe you might know something about them.”

   
“Why should that concern me?
 
I really don’t care what has been happening to you.”

   
“Even if it involves Taffy?”

   
Tellie started to speak but stopped, as Taffy and Nancy strolled into the church, both attired like Goth vampire girls.

   
Barely stifling a low groan, Tellie’s face revealed hostility mixed with pain.
 
So she didn’t like Nancy.
 
This was part of the stuff I had come here to learn.

   
The two approached us.
 
Taffy was certainly in a grief mode, as if it suddenly had dawned on her that her father was really dead. Her eyes were red from crying. Nancy just looked ridiculous tagging along.

   
“What are you doing here?” Nancy asked me.

   
“Paying my respects.”

   
“I’d be ashamed to come here after Taffy’s daddy died on your property and all,” retorted Nancy.
 
Taffy glanced nervously at Nancy.

   
“Well, I guess that is the difference between grown-up behavior and just weird behavior.
 
You goin’ to a Halloween party after this?”

   
“Both of you, shut up,” hissed Tellie.
 
“This service is for my daughter and myself.
 
If you can’t behave yourselves, then get the hell out of here.”

   
I mumbled my apologies.
 
Silently asking God to forgive me, I went to sit in the back of the church.
 
I was well aware that Tellie seemed to have a newfound confidence, which had never been displayed when Richard was alive.
 
This interested me.
 
What caused the mouse to turn into . . . at least, a lion cub?
 

   
From the back pew, I had an ideal vantage point from which to study those who came to pay their respects.
 
Gray-haired men, who looked like retirees from IBM, offered their condolences to Tellie.
 
Afterwards, they stood chatting in little pods.
 
I listened to several of the men compare war stories about their IBM careers.
 
Ever so often, Richard’s name would be mentioned.
 
A short silence always followed.

   
Members of the Farmers’ Market began to make their appearances.
 
Even Otto Brown, who had bothered to shave and put on his Sunday suit with a clean starched shirt, showed up, with Mrs. Brown, in a brightly colored caftan, following faithfully behind.
 
I watched Otto pat Tellie’s hand a little too long while talking to her and wondered what Mrs. Brown thought of this.
 
Tellie put her hand in her dress pocket.
 

   
“No fool like an old fool, I always say.”
 
I looked up to see Irene Meckler, my buddy from the Farmers’ Market, standing in the aisle.
 
“Did you see old man Brown try to paw Tellie with his wife standing right there.”
 
Irene shook her head.
 
“Disgusting.”

   
I scooted over for Irene to join me.
 
“Hey Irene. Just get here?”

   
Irene pushed her glasses up on her sharply pointed nose.
 
“You don’t think I’d miss this, do you,” she guffawed.
 
“I must say that Tellie is looking awfully smart.”