Corpse Suzette

took a sip from
her cola and turned to the guy seated on the stool next to hers. He looked like
he had just washed up on the beach with some flotsam. He wore a faded tie-dyed
shirt and peace beads around his neck. His hair hung in limp strands down his
back and into his eyes, which were suspiciously bloodshot. The distinctive odor
of marijuana drifted about him like a cloud.
    Some guys just had a hard
time finding their way out of the sixties.
    “Hi,” she said to him.
“Come here often?”
    He focused on her with an
effort, then grinned broadly with yellowed teeth, as though unable to believe
his luck. “Yeah,” he said. “I do. I practically live here. How about you?”
    “I live in a house.”
    “But you’re here tonight.”
    “How observant of you! And
since you’re so perceptive, may I ask you if you’ve seen a friend of mine?”
    “Is she as pretty as you?”
    “Oh, some say much
prettier. On a good day, she looks like Marilyn Monroe.”
    Mr. Sixties began nodding
his head so vigorously she thought he might tumble off his stool. “I have seen her! I’ve seen your friend. She was here.”
    “When?”
    “I don’t remember exactly,
but not too long ago. Maybe last night or the night before, or... I don’t know,
but she was here. Sat right over there on the other side of the room and drank
martinis. We were all checking her out.”
    “And did anybody talk to
her?”
    “I didn’t. She was with
somebody.”
    Savannah could feel Dirk
leaning against her, straining to hear every word. She could even feel his warm
breath on her neck. Now who was working the room, huh?
    “Who was she with?”
    “This other really
good-looking girl. A pretty brunette. I think she sells real estate.”
    “And the two of them were
talking, drinking together?”
    “Yeah, for an hour at
least. Then they left together.”
    Savannah turned to Dirk, a
smugger than smug look on her face. “And that,” she said, “is what you can find
out when you don’t alienate them in the first five seconds of meeting them.”
But he didn’t look rebuked, chastised, admonished, or the slightest bit
humbled.
    He still looked obnoxiously
satisfied with himself. “See,” he said, “I told you.”
    “Told me what?”
    “Really good-looking girl?
A pretty brunette? Your buddy there just confirmed it: Elizabeth’s a babe.”
    He glanced over her
shoulder. “And... there she is now.” Savannah turned to see a woman walking
into the bar, who was, indeed, a babe—if you were attracted to shapely
brunettes with stunning smiles.
    Not exactly her type, but
she could see why Dirk and the old hippie were impressed. She also noticed that
at least two dozen of the other male patrons were following the newcomer’s
every movement as she walked around the bar, greeting almost everyone she
passed.
    Apparently, Elizabeth
Fortunato was a well-known and well-loved citizen of Santa Tesla Island.
    Dirk nudged Savannah. “ I’ll handle this one.”
    “I’m sure you’d love to,”
she muttered.
    They waited until Elizabeth
had sidled up to the bar, ordered a drink, and had it in hand before they
fought their way through the crowd to her side.
    As he wished, Savannah
allowed Dirk to take the lead. He tended to get along better with sexy female
realtors than he did with grumpy bank managers and their gargantuan guards.
    “Ms. Fortunato?” he said.
“Could we please have a private word with you?”
    Discreetly, he slipped his
badge from his pocket, cupped it in his palms and showed it to her. Elizabeth’s
eyes widened. She nodded and motioned toward the back of the room.
    Again they swam, like
salmon fighting their way upstream, through the mob until they reached the rear
of the bar and a single unoccupied booth. Elizabeth slid into one side and Dirk
and Savannah into the other.
    “What is this about?”
Elizabeth said, obviously worried. “Has something bad happened? My family...?”
    “No, nothing like that,”
Dirk assured her. “It’s nothing to do with you personally. We were just hoping
you could help us.”
    “And you are...?”
    “Detective Sergeant Dirk
Coulter, San Carmelita PD, and this is my friend, Savannah Reid. She’s a
private investigator who’s helping me with a case I’m working on.”
    Elizabeth reached across
the table and shook their hands. “What sort of case?”
    “Homicide.”
    “Oh, wow, that’s serious.”
    “About as serious as it
gets,” Savannah added.
    “Who is the victim?”
    “A fellow