Revenge of the Chili Queens (29 page)

“Dom had a plain guitar,” I said.

Nick gave me another
huh?
look.

“Dom had a plain guitar,” I whispered. “When he came by the tent to check on me and Sylvia, he was holding a plain, ordinary guitar. It was probably some piece
of junk he picked up at a pawn shop. But at the murder scene—”

The song ended and the audience applauded, and I knew I didn’t have much time.

Before Nick could ask where I was going and long before he could stop me, I popped out of my seat and went around to the far side of the auditorium to head backstage. Oh, sure, he made to follow me, but got waylaid by fairgrounds security who wanted to talk to him about Eleanor’s apprehension. Fine with me. I didn’t have to explain myself.

The dressing rooms were down a corridor to my right, and I made sure everyone was still busy onstage and raced that way.

The long, skinny dressing room featured a row of mirrors on the wall with a small vanity and a chair in front of each. Those familiar makeup cases were parked in front of the dressing tables: black, purple, leopard print, pink sparkles, gold sparkles, photo-collage covered.

Just what I was looking for. I bent closer for a better look at the photographs and homed in on the one that had jogged a memory when Bindi was onstage.

Teenagers in a garage band playing brightly painted instruments.

From out front, I heard James Faragut’s voice. “Now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for . . .”

I didn’t have a second to lose, so I popped open Bindi’s makeup case and stared at the single photograph pasted on the inside cover.

“What are you doing?”

When I heard Bindi’s voice, my head came up. For the
second time that night, I’d been surprised doing what I had no business doing. The first time—with Eleanor—I’d been quick and I’d been smart and I’d been lucky.

I was about to find out if my luck would hold again.

“What are you doing back here already?” I asked Bindi. “Faragut is just announcing the winner.”

“Yeah, well he just announced the three semifinalists and I wasn’t one of them. I was supposed to stay there onstage and simper and smile, but when I saw that you’d left your seat . . .” She shrugged like it was no big deal when it was actually a pretty smooth piece of deductive reasoning. “I had a feeling you might be poking your nose where it didn’t belong.”

“Good thing, or I never would have found this.” I pointed toward that photo on the inside of the case. It showed a young man with shaggy hair as dark as Bindi’s. He was holding a brightly painted guitar, and the line of handwriting under the photo listed his name as well as a birth date and a death date, just a couple years before. “Tommy Monroe. Your brother, right?”

“My twin. So what?”

“He painted guitars.”

She set her own brightly painted guitar down in the corner. “It was his hobby. So what?”

“So I should have noticed right away, but by the time I saw Dom the night of the murder . . . well, the guitar was all smashed. There was no way I could have known that it wasn’t the same guitar he’d been carrying around earlier. That explains that trail of Consolidated Chili souvenirs near the body, too.”

She twitched a shoulder, and the beading on her sky blue gown twinkled. “Really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t, either,” I admitted. “But I bet it won’t be hard to find out. Your brother is dead and I’m sure there’s a way the cops can find out the circumstances. He died young. That’s too bad. And his death had something to do with Dom Laurentius, didn’t it?” I took another gander at the photos on the outside of the makeup case. “I’ll bet that beach isn’t a Texas beach. I bet you lived in LA. That’s where Tommy ran into Dom. He must have, and whatever happened, I bet it wasn’t pretty. It’s the only thing that would explain why you killed Dom.”

“You think so?” That perfect smile firmly in place, Bindi closed in on me. She stopped at her dressing table, slid the drawer open, and pulled out what I thought was a pink cell phone.

That is, until I realized it was the stun gun she had used to knock me out before she dumped me in with the bull.

I looked into her eyes. Better than concentrating on her hands and letting her know I was scared to death she’d come at me with the stun gun. “Pink? How cliché!”

“But effective.”

“I should have known Eleanor would never get her hands dirty with rodeo animals.” I could have kicked myself for not thinking of it sooner. I glanced at the photos again, and the one that showed Bindi and her brother on horseback. “You’re not afraid of big animals.”

“Or of anything else,” she assured me. “Let’s get moving.” She flashed the stun gun toward the door. “I don’t
want to do this here. We’ll find a nice dark corner somewhere where they won’t find your body for a few hours.”

It wasn’t hard to pretend this scared me, but I cranked up the drama a notch. I can cry at the drop of a hat. Ask Jack. He’d given in to me plenty of times thanks to the waterworks.

“All right. Okay.” I scooted toward the door, sniffling all the while, but careful to keep just out of Bindi’s reach. “But the least you can do is tell me why you killed Dom. It was because of Tommy, right?”

“Of course it was because of Tommy. He was railroaded back in LA by none other than Dom Laurentius. He was sent to prison and he was killed there in a fight. So much talent! So much potential. And it all got wasted because of that lowlife Dom. He was more interested in closing a case than he was in finding out the truth, and poor Tommy was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Laurentius planted evidence. He made up a story. He arrested my brother and he pinned a burglary on him that landed him in jail, and when Tommy was killed . . .” Bindi pulled in a shaky breath. “When Tommy was killed, I swore I’d do whatever it took to make sure Dom paid for what he’d done. When I went to my first meeting at Tri-C and saw him there . . .” Her eyes flared. “It was like a gift from the gods, and there was no way I was going to waste the opportunity.

“You were right about the guitar,” she added. “I used one of Tommy’s to kill him. It was painted with a skull, and you know what, I thought that was pretty funny. Too bad I don’t have something nearly as appropriate for you.”

I was at the door, and it was now or never. I threw it open and took off just as I’d taken off a little while earlier
when Eleanor was after me. But this time, I never made it as far as the stage. I got as far as that giant can of chili and ducked behind it.

“You can explain the whole thing to the cops,” I said, sticking my head from behind the can of chili to see what Bindi was up to. “They’ll understand. They’ll take your brother’s death into consideration. But if you kill me, too—”

“If I kill you, then nobody will ever know what happened.” She made a stab at me with the stun gun just as I dashed back behind the chili can. “I didn’t win the Miss Consolidated Chili pageant,” she growled. “I have nothing else to lose.”

My back flat against the chili can, I slipped around to the other side of it.

Bad timing.

I found myself toe to toe with Bindi.

“Hold still,” she said, and poked the stun gun at me. “This is only going to hurt for a second. Then—”

Then a dull thud interrupted whatever she was going to say.

I looked up, stunned, to find Jack standing not ten feet away.

And the can of chili he’d thrown and beaned Bindi with at my feet.

CHAPTER 20

What with the police and the handcuffs and Tiffany crying because everyone was paying more attention to Bindi than to her even though she’d just been crowned Miss Consolidated Chili, it was late when we got out of there.

Not too late, though, to celebrate.

Jack took me and Sylvia and Nick to dinner, and he invited Gert and Tumbleweed and Ruth Ann along, too, for a reunion that had been a long time coming.

It was a chichi restaurant, and Jack picked up the bill for really good wine and steaks the size of San Antonio. By the time the waiter brought over a tray of what he called Texas Brownies, we were all pretty relaxed and in a good mood.

“The Showdown will be leaving town tomorrow.” Jack
took us all in with a glance. “I wish I had more time with y’all, but since I don’t . . . Nick, Tumbleweed, Ruth Ann, Gert, you’ll excuse me if I talk a little business with my daughters.”

I guess Sylvia had been expecting this, or at least hoping for it; she sat up like a shot. Me, I didn’t have a clue what was going on. I took a sip of coffee and held my breath.

“I’ve got a big ol’ company to run,” Jack told us. “And there’s a bit of what I’d call a divide between what I want to do with it and the current corporate culture. I could use a couple good assistants.”

“Yes!” Sylvia practically jumped out of her seat. “Work here in San Antonio? For Consolidated Chili? In a real office? Yes, yes, yes! Count me in.”

Jack gave her a smile. “I knew I could.” He turned in his seat to look my way. “What about you, Maxie? I’m thinking of puttin’ Sylvia on the business side of things, you know, prices and strategies, that sort of thing, but there’s a PR department that could use a little shakin’ up. With your experience and your head for promotions, I’d say it was a perfect fit.”

It would be perfect.

A steady job and a reliable paycheck.

Working with Jack day in and day out.

I wasn’t sure which of those things appealed to me most.

Which was why I grimaced when I told my dad, “That would mean leaving the Showdown, and the Showdown . . .” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If it’s all the same to you, Jack, I think I’ll stay on at the Palace. The
Showdown wouldn’t be the same without me, and I wouldn’t be the same without the Chili Chick.”

I don’t think I was imagining it when I saw Nick sigh with relief. Jack, on the other hand, didn’t look the least bit surprised.

“All rightee then.” He shook hands with Nick and Tumbleweed and gave Ruth Ann a big, smacking kiss before he looped his arm around Gert’s shoulders. “We’ll see each other again soon. And Sylvia, you report to the office bright and early tomorrow and we’ll get you all settled.”

He didn’t need to tell her twice. Sylvia was up and out of her seat in record time, heading for the door while she mumbled something about a double-breasted pin-striped blazer and matching pants.

“Maxie . . .” When I stood up, Jack grabbed my hand. “You’re all right with this?”

“With staying with the Showdown and leaving Sylvia behind? It’s like a dream come true. Well, except that I won’t get that day off in New Orleans like I was supposed to.”

“And you don’t mind that she’ll be working directly with me?”

There was a time I would have, and Jack knew it.

I stood on tiptoe so I could kiss his cheek. “This Chili Chick doesn’t need a big paycheck or a fancy title. And now that she knows you’re back and that you’re happy . . .” I smiled at Gert. “I’m going to be just fine.”

•   •   •

I slept in late the next morning, and hey, it’s not like I didn’t deserve it. I’d had a week of working the
Showdown plus the fund-raisers at Alamo Plaza, a week of investigating, getting bushwhacked, nearly being killed, burgling Dom’s apartment, and solving a murder, not to mention a week of realizing that everything I’d ever been looking for was right there at the Showdown—including Nick.

When I got dressed and went outside to hitch the Palace to the RV, I was smiling.

At least until I rounded the corner and saw Sylvia standing there dressed in jeans and a Texas Jack golf shirt.

“What are you . . . ?” Since I wasn’t sure I could believe my eyes, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the office?”

“Yeah, I am.” My half sister stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. “But I was thinking about it and . . . well . . .” As if even she couldn’t believe what she was about to say, she threw her hands in the air. “You don’t think I’m going to let you head out on your own with the Palace, do you? You’d get it all wrong. The way things are going, you’d be out investigating when there are customers lined up and bags to pack. The way I see it . . .” Even Sylvia could only look as gloomy as a thundercloud for so long. “Oh heck, Maxie, I talked to Jack this morning. He understands. I’m coming along! Of course I’m coming along.”

I’m pretty sure she was just as surprised as I was when I smiled. “Well, don’t get any ideas about being pushy,” I told her. “About raising prices without talking to me first or changing our packaging or telling the Chili Chick what she can and can’t do.”

Sylvia pulled her slim shoulders back. “Well obviously somebody needs to be in charge. Your head is always in the clouds, and your common sense goes along with it. Now, let’s get the Palace hitched and get on the road. I’ve got some things I want to talk to you about. I’ve been thinking about ordering spice jars that are just a little smaller than the ones we’re using. If we can use one less ounce in each jar—”

I cut her off with a laugh. That is, right before I wound my arm through Sylvia’s. “Oh yeah?” I asked her. “Who died and left you boss?”

No one can say for sure that they have an authentic chili recipe from the Chili Queens. Every Queen had her own secret recipe and every family had its own chili tradition. If you search online, you’ll find endless versions that claim to be the real deal. Here’s one Maxie would approve of. Enjoy!