Star’s eyes were always covered. When she came in here I told her to go play dress-up someplace else because she looked ridiculous. But she bugged me to give her a chance. I usually have the girls strip for me so I can see what kind of bodies they have, but I could see there wasn’t any point with her. She didn’t have anything up here.”
He cupped his hands over imaginary breasts. “I let her go on during the afternoon when the place was empty so she wouldn’t get stage fright. I figured she’d chicken out, anyway, either before or after. But she had the moves and she exuded such charisma that the few guys who were here loved her immediately. She had ‘em inside her g- string right from the start. So of course she was hooked. No girl can resist that kind of power.”
“So she packed them in,” Wesley said.
“Yeah, word got around. Look, I’m in this to make a buck, so what am I supposed to do, show her the door just because she’s got idiosyncrasies? She wanted to be paid in cash, she wouldn’t give me her phone number, but she always showed up when she said she would-until last night. So what’s your connection to her?”
Lefty looked at me. I decided to be partially honest. “She was taking a class from my granddaughter’s boyfriend. He teaches at Crescent Heights. It’s a long story, but he’s a suspect in her murder and I’m trying to clear him.”
“Did he do it?”
“No.”
“That’s tough. What can I do to help?”
“First, I suspect the police are going to want to talk to you. A Detective Johnson is handling this case.”
“Johnson. I think I know him. He must have got promoted. He used to drive a patrol car. All right, I can handle him.”
“Did she have any enemies here?”
“No. But she didn’t have any friends, either. Never stuck around long enough for anybody to get to know her. She always came in costume, wearing that damned mask. And she’d leave after each show, even if she was going on again the same night.”
“How about the patrons? Do you think anyone might have been stalking her?”
“Not as far as I know. She never complained. Like I said, after each show she’d charge out of here like she had to catch a plane. I guess she had a car down the street. At least, she never parked in the lot.”
Speaking of the parking lot rang a bell. “Are you familiar with a website on the Internet that posts the license plate numbers of patrons of the clubs here in Bethany?”
A broad grin lit up Lefty’s face, making his mouth wider than ever. “You mean the site that old guy Hoffman maintains? That guy is a piece of work. But he’s good for business. The young dudes brag about getting their plates on his site.”
Talk about unintended consequences.
“He’s the father of Elise.”
“No.” Lefty looked dumbfounded. “You’re shittin’ me. If he knew about her dancing here…”
“He would have killed her? I’m going to look into that possibility.”
“Look, if there’s anything I can do to help you, let me know. I’m sorry the Shooting Star bought it. I liked that girl, in spite of her idiosyncrasies. She had guts.”
Chapter 13
“How long did you wait the other day?”
Wesley was clearly getting restless, and because he had insisted on driving I couldn’t hold him here against his will. We were sitting in his car across the street from Elise’s apartment, waiting for Donna Somerset. I wanted to express my condolences to her. “Let’s wait ten more minutes and then we’ll go.”
We only had to wait five more minutes. Donna’s car pulled to a stop directly in front of the apartment. I was thankful we were in Wesley’s car because she wouldn’t recognize it, and I was on the passenger side, where she couldn’t see me. I decided not to accost her in the middle of the street, but waited until she had entered the apartment. Then I followed her to the door, telling Wesley to wait for me. The broken front window was covered by a brown packing box that had been flattened out.
Donna opened the door at my ring, looked at me and said, “It’s you. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Elise,” I said. “My name is Lillian Morgan, by the way.”
“Did the police talk to you?” She looked ready to close the door in my face.
“Yes, I talked to Detective Johnson. I confirmed what you told him, that I was here on Wednesday. I don’t know if you know it or not, but I actually talked to Elise on Wednesday. But I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Donna considered this and then said, “Come in.”
I followed her into the now-familiar front room. I noticed that the pictures of Elise had disappeared from the wall. When Donna offered me a seat I avoided the beanbag chair and sat in another one. She looked somewhat the worse for wear. Her hair was messy and her blouse was wrinkled, as if she had slept in it. She flopped into the beanbag chair, with one leg underneath her.
“It’s been a madhouse around here,” Donna said. “The police kept coming in here and looking around and taking pictures and looking for clues and all that stuff. I couldn’t sleep here the last two nights. In fact, I didn’t get any sleep at all Wednesday night because Detective Johnson and other people kept asking me questions. Then my folks called and asked if I wanted to go home for a while. I said no. They offered to help me find another apartment, but I like this one. I want to stay here. The police let me back in this morning, but it’s going to be too weird sleeping in the same room where Elise got killed, so I may sleep out here.”
She motioned toward an old couch. After her outburst she deflated deeper into the chair. I sympathized with her, making the small talk that I’m not great at because I wanted her to view me as a friend. When I thought she had softened toward me, I said, “May I ask you a question, Donna?”
“Go ahead.”
“Last week you asked me to tell Dr. Pappas to go to Club Cavalier.”
“That was a crazy thing to do, wasn’t it?” Donna giggled.
“Why do you say that? Didn’t you want Dr. Pappas to find out that Elise was the Shooting Star?”
“Elise wasn’t the Shooting Star,” Donna said, quickly.
“What? What do you mean?”
“No. Elise wasn’t the Shooting Star. I was the Shooting Star.”
I stared at her. “I saw the Shooting Star. You couldn’t be the Shooting Star.”
“I am. Come on, I’ll show you.”
I followed her into the single bedroom. It contained twin beds, against opposite walls, plus dressers, bed stands and two wardrobe closets. One of the beds had been stripped down to the innerspring. The mattress had been taken. Donna went to the other side of the room, opened a drawer in the dresser and started pulling things out.
“Here are a couple of my g-strings and bra tops. Here is my mask and here is my wig.”
Everything looked familiar, but so what? “Since you shared this bedroom with Elise, having those things doesn’t prove that you were the Shooting Star and she wasn’t.”
“Watch.”
Donna put on the mask and the wig. Then she took a lipstick from the top of the dresser and with the aid of a mirror on the wall above it, colored her lips bright red. She turned toward me.
“Ta-da!”
I had to admit that from the neck up she looked like the Shooting Star. At least her face looked like the face I had seen in the spotlight as I sat in the back of the room. But what about her body? She weighed more than Elise, and I was sure it would show with her clothes off. Also, breasts are unique to a woman, as well as nipples. Like fingerprints. But again, I might not be able to spot any differences because of my imperfect view at the club. How could I satisfy my doubts?
“What music did you use?”
“Perry Como. ‘Don’t Let the Stars Get in Your Eyes.’ It’s from a CD Elise had. I have to admit, Elise had the
