Killer Cuts: A Dead-End Job Mystery (31 page)

H
elen sat straight up amid the sex-tossed sheets in Phil’s bed

room.”It’s not Miguel Angel,” she said.”He didn’t kill King.”

“Huh? What?” Phil had his head buried in a pillow and his long legs tangled in the covers.

They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms about midnight. Helen had sighed contentedly, and the cares of the day slid away. So did her wor ries about her upcoming marriage. She began to think about the drag queen brunch. She’d seen something. Something important. Something she had to …

Helen didn’t know when she’d drifted off to sleep, but she was wide-awake now, her heart pounding in the dark room.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Helen said. “I just realized Miguel Angel didn’t kill King.”

Phil sounded groggy and slightly confused. “You’ve always said Miguel Angel is innocent.What time is it?” He rolled over and turned on his bedside light.

Helen blinked at the sudden brightness, then squinted at the bedside clock.”Three twelve,” she said.

“In the morning?”

“I think so, since there’s no daylight coming through the blinds,” Helen said.”I can prove Miguel Angel is innocent. He doesn’t have a waist.”

“I still don’t get it,” Phil asked.”So what if he doesn’t have a waist? He’s a guy.”

“Exactly. Let me show you.” Helen climbed out of bed, put on Phil’s blue shirt and ran to the living room, where the fatal wedding videos and photos were piled on the coffee table. She rooted through the photos until she found the picture of the blonde arguing with King. This photo had made her boss a “person of interest” to the police.

“Look at that picture,” Helen said.”That’s a woman.”

“I could figure that out,” Phil said.”Even at three in the morning.”

“What I mean is the person has a very feminine shape,” Helen said. “A narrow waist, rounded rear end, and a firm, high bust.”

“Gee, if I say that, I get in trouble for being a pig,” Phil said.”But I still don’t see why that’s a big clue.”

“The waist is the key. Remember my bachelorette party at the drag queen brunch at Lips? The drag queens were beautiful, but they didn’t have waists like real women. Miguel Angel did a good job in a hurry with his hair and makeup when he ran from Honey’s wedding. He could pass as a female if you didn’t look too close. But I had a chance to study him on the ride back to the Coronado. His bust was obviously padded. The dress he wore was too tight around the middle because Miguel Angel doesn’t have a woman’s figure.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation at three in the morn ing,” Phil said. “How does that prove he’s innocent?” He rubbed his eyes like a sleepy little boy.

Helen kissed him.”You are so darn cute,” she said.

“True,” Phil said,”but please explain why you woke me up.”

“All the police have to do is make Miguel Angel wear Honey’s blue dress.”

“Where are they going to get it?” Phil asked.

“They pulled it out of the Dumpster behind the salon, remember? Once Miguel puts that dress on, the cops will see he’s not the blonde in the photo.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Phil said.”But we still have to find King’s killer.”

“And soon, before Miguel Angel is arrested,” Helen said.”The police seem to be permanently parked outside the salon. I have tomorrow—I guess that’s today—off work.We need to move quickly before Miguel Angel loses his salon.”

“I promise I’ll spend the whole day digging around in King’s past,” Phil said.

He was pacing the living room when he stopped in front of his locked front door.”What’s this?”Phil picked up a white legal-sized envelope.

Helen saw the block lettering and suddenly felt sick. “Looks like another anonymous letter,” she said. “There’s a sticky note on the en velope.”

“The sticky note is from Margery,” he said.”Do you mind if I open the letter?”

“Go ahead,” Helen said.

Phil carefully prized open the envelope along the flap with a letter opener, then used a tissue to pull out a sheet of white paper with letters cut from a newspaper.

“What’s it say?” Helen asked. She didn’t want to know.

Phil showed her the letter. This one said, Y
OU WILL BURN IN
HELL
.

Helen wasn’t even sure she believed in hell, but these notes were frightening.

“It’s postmarked Rehoboth Beach, Delaware,” he said.

“Another place I’ve never heard of,” Helen said.

“Lot of mob connections in Delaware,” Phil said.

“Lot of mobsters here in Florida, too,” Helen said.

“Let me spend some time studying this letter.” Phil went to his desk in the living room and booted up his computer, then made a pot of coffee and poured himself a cup.”Want some?” he asked.

“I need to get some sleep,” Helen said, and went back to bed. She awoke again at six in the morning. Phil was still working at his computer.

“Find anything?” she asked.

“Same old story on the anonymous letter,” he said.”No fingerprints, plain typing paper and not a clue as to who sent it.”

“Somebody hates me,” Helen said.

“That’s what worries me,” Phil said. “Why don’t you stay with me until the wedding?”

“It’s not proper,” Helen said.

“And what we did last night was?”

“No, but it’s also bad luck to stay with the groom right before the wedding,” Helen said.

“Says who?” Phil said.

“All the bridal guides. Honey and King lived together, and now he’s dead.”

“I’m sure that’s what killed him,” Phil said.

“Maybe it did,” Helen said.

“Maybe she did,” Phil said. “I’d feel better if you were someplace safe.”

“What if I move in with Margery until Saturday? Kathy, Tom and their kids will be staying at my place on Friday. I need to get it ready for them.”

“What about Thumbs?” Phil asked.”Margery hates cats.”

“He can stay with you,” Helen said.”He likes you better, anyway.”

“Thanks a lot,” Phil said.

“It’s a great compliment,” Helen said.”Thumbs doesn’t fall for just any man. Is it really six in the morning? I’d better go feed him. What time do you want to leave?”

“About eleven,” Phil said.”Sex-industry workers are not early risers.”

“Are we going to King’s Sexxx?” she asked.

“No, the current owner knows you and he’s met me.We’re going to the area near the bus station.”

“Why?” Helen asked.

“Because the runaways hang out there.That’s where King and his friends find fresh meat.”

Helen kissed Phil good-bye and made the three-step trek to her door. A tail-lashing Thumbs met her, loudly demanding fresh water, more food and a clean litter box.

“Oh, hush,” Helen said. “I have enough to do without waiting on a cat.”

Thumbs slammed his nearly empty water bowl with his giant sixtoed paw.

“That’s enough, Mr. Nasty,” Helen said. “If you want to eat, you behave yourself.”

Thumbs stared at her with resentful yellow-green eyes. Helen did her feline chores, then started cleaning her apartment.The dust flew, the vacuum roared and Thumbs crawled under the bed to get away from the cat-killing Hoover.

While she worked, Helen brooded on who would send her threat ening letters. Was it Honey? Phoebe? Did they have connections in Maryland and Delaware? Were they connected with the mob? King used to be a partner in a strip club, and some of those clubs were sup posed to be mob owned.

The tiny apartment was sparkling when Helen heard Margery’s door slam at ten thirty. Her landlady was padding out to the poolside umbrella table with a cup of coffee and a cigarette.

Helen changed into a fresh white blouse and jeans, then poured herself a cup of coffee and went out to talk to Margery. Her landlady looked tired this morning. Her brown face was like wrinkled chiffon. Helen was alarmed to see Margery huddled in her purple robe instead of dressed in some wild outfit.

“Are you feeling okay?” Helen asked.

“As good as I’m going to feel at seventy-six,” Margery said.”I saw you got another anonymous letter yesterday.” She took a long drag on her cigarette.

“This one says I’ll burn in hell,” Helen said.

“Probably.” Margery looked demonic in the cloud of cigarette smoke. “But that’s beside the point. Who is sending you threatening letters?”

“I don’t know. Phil is worried. He wants me to stay with him before the wedding. I’d rather not. I’m wondering if I could sleep on your foldout couch.”

“Nobody can sleep on that couch,” Margery said.”It’s stuffed with antlers and anvils. I bought it that way on purpose. One night on that couch and even the cheapest houseguest heads for the Days Inn. How ever, I do have a guest room, and it’s yours for a few nights. May I ask why you won’t move in with Phil?”

“Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t want to live with him before the wedding,” Helen said.

“I don’t think you’re old-fashioned. I think you’re nuts.That man is a hunk.Take your minister’s advice and move in with him immedi ately.”

“I’ll take your guest bed instead,” Helen said. She put down her cof fee cup.”I hate to drink and run, but I need to meet Phil.We’re looking for King’s killer.”

“Please don’t get yourself into something dangerous,” Margery said. “I want to marry you, not bury you.”

“Do we get a group rate if we’re both dead?”

Margery threw her cigarette butt at Helen.