The Price of Beauty in Strawberry Land (6 page)

“Yes mam, I am available,” I probably answered too quickly.

“Listen, handsome. Don’t get your libido worked up.
 
I’ve got an early flight out tomorrow and then back late so I can make it to the party. There won’t be any breakfast date, so you can calm the prostate and keep your charm to yourself – this time. We have a deal?”

“Are you always this proud of yourself – or do I bring the best out of you?”

“I’m always this proud.
 
Now, do you want to have a drink or not?”

“I do, but I’ll do you one better. I need to go to the Manhattan Club this evening – you up to that?”

“Wow – maybe I have misjudged you Carson Reno.
 
I would be happy to be your guest at the Manhattan Club.
 
I have just the outfit.”

I was sure she did – and I wanted to see it!

“I’ll pick you up at 8.
 
That work?” I said.

“Are you still driving that black thing you call a car?
 
If so, NO - you may not pick me up.
 
I’ll pick you up.
 
Where do you live?”

 
I gave her my address and directions.
 
Hey, I’m not crazy!

 
~

T
he Manhattan Club is located at 1459 Elvis Presley Blvd. – and it is actually just down the road from Graceland.
 
The King has been known to rent the whole club on special occasions and throw his own ‘private’ parties.
 
For us ‘normal folks’, it’s actually an upscale supper club which offers a full menu and name entertainment on most nights.

My hopes were to get a sighting of Brian Jeffers and make some decisions for myself on what he might or might not be up to.

~

A
t 8:03 that familiar red Corvette rolled into the parking area in front of my apartment building.
 
It had barely stopped when Liz jumped out and threw those long arms around me.
 
Her kiss was long, sincere and wet.
 
She finished with a familiar nibble on my ear.

“Hey Carson Reno.
 
You are as good looking as I remember,” she laughed.

“And you’re not bad yourself, Miss Teague.” Her blonde hair was shorter than I remembered and she was still sporting a great tan – one of those tans you can actually smell, when you get close enough.
 
Her dinner dress was short and red - very red. Much brighter than the corvette - if that was possible. The dress had thin narrow straps, showing just enough to tease but keep the looker wondering.
 
With her matching high heals, I felt overpowered – I think Liz liked it like that!

I headed around to the passenger door but she beat me there.

“No sir – Mr. Reno. I don’t drive on dates.” With that, she tossed me the keys.

We spent the short drive catching up on activities and talking about Mary Ellen’s upcoming party.
 
It was hard work just talking and keeping this 327 cubic inch/four speed monster under control, while letting my eyes soak up as much of Liz as I could.
 
 
She was nice to look at.

~

T
he doorman took charge of the corvette and our hostess took us to a table close to the dance floor, but not too close to the band. It was perfect.

Early evening was spent with wine, appetizers and salad.
 
Memphis Slim was the entertainment - along with some other recording groups out of Sunny Side Records.
 
I didn’t see who I was looking for and it seemed my search for Brian Jeffers was going to come up a zero. Turns out, I was just looking in the wrong place.

We ordered steaks and Liz took the obliged trip to powder her nose.
 
I used this opportunity to visit the bar and ask the bartender a few questions.
 
After some simple talk I asked, “I understand a lot of famous people come in here.”

“Yep, sure do – but not tonight.
 
You’re out of luck.
 
Best we got tonight is an ex-mayor and some ‘would-be’ thugs.”

“Oh, yeah? You mean Ex-mayor Jeffers – right?
 
I’ve looked around but haven’t seen him,” I offered casually.

“That’s because he’s not in the main dinning room,” the bartender replied while washing some glassed. “They’re having dinner in the back – the ‘Blue Room’.
 
It’s private for
those who don’t want to mingle with the regular folks.
 
You need a drink?”

“Yes, a Jack and Coke please.
 
How do you get into this ‘Blue Room’?” I answered.

“You don’t.
 
Let me get you that drink,” he said walking away.

Liz had returned from the powder room and was in her seat when I got back to the table.

“Drinking again?” she asked. “Wine not good enough for you?”

“Hey – I told you I’m working.
 
I just needed to pump the bartender, and getting a drink was part of the program.
 
I’ll save it until after dinner.”

We were still waiting on our steaks, so I excused myself and pretended to search for the men’s room.
 
However, I was really looking for this ‘Blue Room’ - it wasn’t hard to find.
 
In the back of the band area was a small dark hallway that led to a single door. The sign on the door read ‘The Blue Room’.

Acting ignorant, I quickly opened the door and walked in – much like I expected to find the men’s room behind the door.
 
What I did find was a room full of interesting people having a private dinner.
 
Randy Price, the bodyguard, immediately greeted me at the door and told me this was a private party.
 
I apologized, turned and left – but not before taking note of who surrounded the large dinner table.

Seated at the table were:

Brian Jeffers – ex-Mayor

Darlene Lassiter – Barry Lassiter’s widow

Chuck Hutchinson – Chief of Police

Carlton Scruggs – Shelby County Sheriff

Terry Davis – President of the Dock Workers Union

And two others I could not identify. They had their backs to me and didn’t turn around at my intrusion.

Back at the table, we had our steaks and then settled for an after dinner cocktail rather than desert.

Memphis Slim was just getting into his rhythm when the hostess seated Brian Jeffers and Darlene Lassiter at a table close to the band.
 
I guess the dinner meeting was over.

They only sat long enough to order a drink and then immediately hit the dance floor.
 
He wasn’t a half-bad dancer and Darlene was hanging onto him like a wet suit.
 
She was leaving very little room between her and him – making a statement about their relationship.

I assume other members of the dinner party must have used some unseen door for their exit – because no one else made an appearance in the main dinning room.

Liz and I danced a few, but we mostly just talked and got to know each other better.
 
At midnight she let me know it was time to go and I obliged – Brian and Darlene just seemed to be getting started.

She left me in front of my apartment building with another wet kiss and I told her I would see her at Mary Ellen’s – if not before.

~

A
ndy was still cleaning his bar when I stopped in at the
‘Down Under’
for a nightcap.
 
The place was empty except for a young couple huddled up in a corner booth. The jukebox was playing Booker T and the MG’s ‘Green Onions’
 
- and Andy was timing his cleaning to the beat of the music.

“Andy, can I still get a Jack/Coke?
 
You can put it in a travel cup – I need to use your pay phone before calling it a day.”

“Who in their right mind would want to talk to you at this hour of the night?” he asked.

“Probably nobody – but I know I can leave them a message.”

Fortunately, the phone was located in an area where I could hear and speak over the loud music. I placed a call to Larry Parker, Chief of Detectives for Shelby County. I knew he wouldn’t be there, but central dispatch would take the message, and he should get it first thing in the morning.
 
The message was for Larry to call me at my office first opportunity tomorrow.

Larry had been a policeman for as long as I could remember. He worked his way up the ladder and, unlike many others, had done it through honesty and good police work. I trusted him and he had never let me down. Our friendship goes way back to the beginning.
 
He was a sponsor for my private detective license and had always been there when I needed him – and I think I needed him again.
 

Jackson, Tennessee

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
L
arry Parker had already called twice by the time I walked in the lobby door.

Marcie yelled across the desk “Hey Carson, the police are looking for you this morning. A Captain Parker has already called twice.
 
You in trouble?”

“I am always in trouble,” I shouted back. “Just sometimes more in trouble than others.
 
Did he leave a number?”

“Yes, it’s on your desk and your tux is hanging on your door.”

Dispatch quickly passed me through to Larry.
 
I told him I was headed out of town and asked if he could arrange to meet me for lunch?
 
I promised no more than a half-hour.
 
He agreed and I suggested we meet at Sandy’s on Summer Avenue – it was close to his office and also convenient to me driving out of town.

Sandy’s was new to Memphis and had grown very popular over the past few months.
 
Hamburgers were their specialty, but they actually had a good menu, if you could get past the burgers!

 
As I expected Sandy’s was crowded – it was lunchtime.
 
Also, as I expected, Larry was already there when I arrived.
 
He had claimed a window booth and was working on a Sandy’s Burger and fries when I sat down.

 
“You couldn’t wait?
 
I’m buying lunch – didn’t I mention that?” I hadn’t.

“No you did not.
 
But, now that I know, I’ll add a shake and some cheesecake.
 
Thanks Buddy."

“Not being personal Larry, but if I were you, I’d skip that shake and cake.
 
I saw you on TV last week and there wasn’t enough room for you and the reporter on the same screen. What would you dress-out now – about 250?”

“220 and you know the camera always makes you look heavier than you are. Now, I know we didn’t come here to discuss my diet – so let’s hear it,” he said before downing what was left of his burger.

“Can you think of any reasons why an ex-mayor, the Chief of Police, the Shelby County Sheriff and various other shifty characters would be having a meeting in a back room of the Manhattan Club?”

“Dinner?”

“I’m sure they had dinner, but I believe there is something more to it.”

“Jeez, Carson. Can’t people have dinner in private without some mystery being involved?”

“I’m sure they can, but I need to tell you some other things.”

I told Larry my story, starting with my visit from Monica, the mysterious map that evidently came from Bernie Taylor and then my crazy trip to Arkansas to see Watson Clark.
 
I finished with my observations from last night at the Manhattan Club.
 

“Interesting,” he said.