The Keystroke Killer Page 13

  Matthew left the comfort of his bedroom, buttoned his shirt and zipped his pants as he staggered to the front door. He looked through the peep hole. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  “You hoo!” Ima Star banged her fists on the door. “I know you’re in there. Open the door pretty boy.”

  He opened it perturbed. “Whatever this is, it isn’t appropriate.”

  “Our appointment was for today. You missed it. You’re coming with me.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her.

  “Wait! What in hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “You can’t understand my world until you visit it. It’s time for you to meet my queens to get invested in them.”

  “Ms. Star. I need not get to know any of you. I’m already invested. That’s what you pay me for.”

  “Not so. To you we’re just names. Hun, we’re as real as you. We have feelings. We have emotions. We have hormones. The only things we don’t have is PMS and vajayjays.” She pushed him aside and sashayed her way into his apartment. “Fine, I’ll take a glass of wine.”

  “What?”

  Ima strutted to the window, jerked open the curtains and opened it. She took a long breath to fill her lungs and stuck her head out the window. “I’m a drag queen. I am right here. You hoo. You hoo.” Her voice shrilled.

  “Just stop. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Nope. I’m getting the attention I deserve. I’ll keep yelling until you agree to meet my girls. You hoo!”

  “Okay, you win. I thought visiting my parents was torture.”

  “What was that?”

  ***

  Locals and tourists packed Bourbon street like sardines in a can. Razoos popped as did the other clubs. Here on this famous New Orleans street, the freaks and geeks partied together. From the painted Silverman to the hip hop and tap dancers, street performers worked hard to deliver a show to earn a dollar or two from those who cared enough to watch.

  Ima dragged Matthew by the hand weaving through the crowd.

  “You can let go of my hand. I’m following you, Ms. Star.”

  “Oh no cutie pie. I want you all to myself. Nobody will distract you from me and my girls.” She tugged harder as she bumped into Congressman Tom Thompson. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry.”

  “No problem Miss. It’s a busy night. Besides, you apparently have your hands full.”

  “It’s not what it looks like.” Matthew’s blurted tone was overly sensitive. “Let’s keep moving.” This time Matthew took the lead. He didn’t want an escort by the hand – especially by a drag queen.

  Ima smirked and winked. “Okay. We’re going. Wait! Listen to that violinist. That’s a fine piece of music and the tone is very pure.”

  “Keep walking Ima.” Matthew led Ima by the hand onto the sidewalk.

  A twelve-year-old African American boy stopped them. “I know where you got dem shoes.”

  “I do too. On Bourbon Street. Now get on home.”

  “He’s adorable.” Ima patted the boy’s head. She reached into her silk purse, retrieved a dollar and handed it to the young peddler.

  He smiled back full-wattage. “God bless you, Ma’am.”

  “Did you hear him? He called me Ma’am.” Ima fanned herself using her white gloved hand. “I think I will cry.”

  “Unbelievable.” Matthew threw his hands into the air.

  “Oh, believe it toots. I’m a madame.”

  The House of the Rising Sun song blasted from the Funky Dive. Matthew recognized the singing voice. He peeped inside. A man dressed in a clown suit sang on stage. Things can’t get any stranger for me tonight. Madame Laveau sauntered from the bar. Okay, things just got weirder. Chills bolted up his spine as he shivered. “Enough Ima. We can’t keep the queens waiting. This was your idea.”

  They continued to push through the crowd and headed toward them were the Three Musketeers and Roth. Each carried a tall lime-green slender plastic drink in the shape of a grenade and experienced no pain.

  Matthew noticed Blaze. What’s she doing here? He took another double look as the foursome stepped off the sidewalk and into the middle of Bourbon Street.

  “I needed this.” Blaze’s words slurred. An unladylike burp and several hiccups followed. “Excuse me. This is going to my head.”

  Roth took Blaze’s drink. “Okay princess. That’s enough.”

  Matthew and Ima weaved through the drunken crowd. Out in the middle of the street by the barricade, Suicide held a handwritten sign on a poster board that read, “The End is Near. Vets Disappearing Without a Trace.” Neither Matthew nor Ima paid attention to him.

  After three minutes strolling down Bourbon Street, they arrived at the Purple Oz known for two dollar cocktails and the best drag show in the south. Ima grabbed Matthew’s wrist. “You’re not going to embarrass me, are you?”

  “You dragged me here to meet the queens, and that’s the only thing I have on my mind.”

  Inside, on full display dancing on top of the bar counter, two gay men wore black leather studded G-strings. They jiggled their tight asses to the song It’s Raining Men by Gloria Gainer sung by Eura Phan, a drag queen on the stage. Ima and Matthew entered.

  Matthew’s dropped jaw showed his tepidness. “Well, okay then.”

  “Isn’t this fabulicious?”

  “That’s one word that describes it.”

  Ima took Matthew’s hand and pulled him to the bar near the dancers. “Let me buy you a drink. What will it be for you tonight?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Oh, you’re better than good darling. You’re fine.” Ima leaned into the feminine weightlifter male bartender. “I’ll take my usual and give this hunk a stiff. I mean a draft.”

  “Right away, Ms. Star. They’re on the house.”

  Matthew tried to ignore the butt naked men who danced close to him, but they wanted his attention as one shook his bearded clam inches away from his face. Matthew, at once, took four steps backward.

  Ima giggled. “It’s all right honey. They don’t bite hard. They only penetrate that way.”

  Matthew looked around and noticed the purple illuminated glass etched sign Purple Oz behind the bar. We’re not in Kansas anymore. There were straight men and women, drag queens, gay men and lesbians. He glanced at the ceiling and noticed the random articles of intimate clothing which hung from the chandeliers and crossbeams. “Okay, a nice touch for a bar.”

  “What did you say, the music is loud?” Ima brushed against his muscular body.

  As the song ended, Matthew noticed at the rear of the bar the wooden rectangle stage, raised twelve inches backed by a red brick wall. An overweight drag queen, wearing a tight fitting striped jumpsuit, accented by puffy organza sleeves and an oversized blonde-bee-hive wig sauntered to center stage. “Now for our next entertainer, please welcome the fabulous Bessie Da Mucho lip-syncing I am Woman by Helen Redding.

  Bessie Da Mucho, resembled Patrick Swayze’s character, Vida Boheme, in the movie To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything Julie Newmar. She pranced onto the stage wearing a glorious sequined gown and brimmed hat. She blew kisses to the audience tucked close together at the tables and chairs surrounding the stage.

  The bartender handed Ima the drinks. She nodded for Matthew to follow. They pushed through the crowd and entered backstage.

  More than a dozen queens primped for their performances. She whistled by placing her thumb and index finger between her lips stopping the chatter as all eyes focused on her. “Ladies. May I have your attention? This is Matthew Raymond. He’s here to find Anna Conda. Tell him everything. Leave nothing out or to chance.”

  The queens continued primping as the chatter erupted.

  “Over here.” Ima escorted an uncomfortable Matthew to a red door which featured a gold handmade glittered star. “We can talk in here.”

  Ima and Matthew entered the private dressing room as Robby stood. Ima took a deep breath as a worried concern enveloped her face. “You’re the last pers
on I expected to see tonight considering everything going on in the streets.”

  “I wanted to come and tell you the girl they brought to the morgue wasn’t Anna.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  Matthew looked at Robby confused. Ima noticed his stance. “Pardon me for my ill manners.” She pointed to the intruder. “This is Dr. Robby Ziegler, parish medical examiner by day and Amber Alert by night. Robby darling, this is Matthew Raymond, the private investigator I told you about. Isn’t he precious?”

  “A pleasure to meet you, I think.” Matthew extended his hand to Robby. “So, are you part of the show tonight?”

  “Just a fan. I also need to tell her something in private.”

  Ima looked over at Matthew, tilted her head and darted her eyes toward the door. He didn’t take the hint to leave. So, she repeated her action more exaggerated this time. “Shoo.” She flipped her hand upward as if swatting a fly.

  “Okay, I get it. It’s a private thing. I’ll wait at the bar.”

  “Perfect. I must primp for my performance, anyway. We’ll finish our conversation after the show.”

  Matthew headed straight toward the one vacant seat at the bar. As luck would have it, a breathtaking beautiful blonde occupied the stool beside it. Her tight fitting sapphire blue dress had a slit over her left thigh which showcased her legs. Her J. Renee Maressa pearlized patent leather metal embossed pumps glistened beneath the overhead spotlights.

  He approached the bar. Before he took the vacant stool, he positioned himself next to the beauty. “Is this seat taken?”

  “It is now.” The bombshell’s voice radiated a velvety smooth and raspy pitch.

  The bartender sat a foaming draft beer in front of Matthew. “It’s on the house, per Ms. Star’s request.”

  Matthew took a sip. He stared at his mug for three seconds as nerves erupted in his stomach. He fidgeted, lifted his head and looked at the glamorous beauty. “What brings you out alone tonight?”

  “What makes you think I’m alone?”

  “You acknowledged this seat was available.”

  “I suppose I did. I came to support a friend. What about you?”

  “Same. I will admit, this is my first time here.”

  “There’s nothing like a first, is there?”

  “Depends on the kind of first.”

  “Yes, indeed.” She batted her dark lashes which gave her young eyes a look of innocence. “But, I’m always opened to firsts.” The sensual woman opened her purse and retrieved a cigarette and a stylish eight inch filter reminiscent of the one Audrey Hepburn used in the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s. She inserted the cigarette into the filter and lifted it toward her luscious crimson glittered lips. “You have a lighter?”

  Like a 1960s gentleman from Madmen, Matthew responded. He grabbed his antique lighter, struck the flint and lit her cigarette making direct eye contact.

  “Are your blue eyes real?”

  “No, they’re fake.”

  “Really?”

  “Silly, of course, they’re real. I don’t even wear contacts.” She puffed her cigarette.

  “Well, your eyes are spellbinding.”

  Every movement of her mesmerized him. She fulfilled one of his darkest fantasies. Each time she placed her lips around the filter and sucked, he couldn’t take his eyes from her ensnared in her sensual alluring trance.

  The intriguing woman gazed into Matthew’s eyes. “I wouldn’t dare ask you for your zodiac sign. However, I will inquire about what you do for a living.”

  “I’m a private investigator. And you?” His gaze wandered from her head to her toes.

  “A nurse.”

  Matthew fantasized about the riveting beauty in front of him wearing a short and sexy nurse’s uniform. Every single muscle was on fire in temptation as heat rose between his legs. “A nurse, I bet you’re a fabulous at what you do.”

  “My patients think so.” She gave a kittenish wink.

  Pleased by the flirtation, Matthew desired to extend the moment and leaned close to her ear. “I’m working tonight, but I would love to take you out on a real date. Maybe have a nice quiet dinner, listen to some jazz and walk down the Riverwalk.”

  The fabulous woman reached into her purse, retrieved a business card and handed it to Matthew. “Call me if you are still interested after reading my card.”

  He read it to himself and noticed the two capital letters, ‘TR’ in bold Sequel Sans print listed before her name.

  “So, your name is Kelly Corbin? What does the ‘TR’ stand for?” Matthew took a sip of his beer.

  She leaned into his ear. “Transvestite.”

  Matthew choked and spewed his beer gobsmacked at the revelation.

  “I take it, our date is off.” She pouted her lips.

  “That would be a first by any definition. I’m Matthew. Would you like another drink? I need one after that.” He took in a deep breath as the male dancers jumped back onto the bar. Can tonight get crazier?

  Matthew ordered another round for him and Kelly. “I’ve always had trouble trusting people. I have to give it to you for your honesty. It’s a fine quality to have.”

  “Take it from me, my kind get murdered if someone gets involved and isn’t told upfront about me being a trannie. I rather enjoy my life.”

  Ima tiptoed to Matthew and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, I see you’ve met the gorgeous Kelly Corbin. Isn’t she simply divine? Be back in a few. It’s my turn to work the door.”

  Kelly wiggled on the bar stool. “That’s the friend you’re supporting tonight?”

  “In a way. She hired me to find the missing drag queens. Are you aware of anything about this situation?”

  “Only that they disappear after performing at lunch across town.”

  “My advice for you is to stay away from the Fleur De Lis Country Club until I can catch that bastard.”

  Matthew looked over his shoulder and watched Ima work the crowd. She bumped into Roxy. Why now?

  ***

  Kara’s limp and bloody body floated in the murky waters of Lake Pontchartrain as the Sweet Melissa pulled away. Dr. Franklin looked over his shoulder at the wake the boat created. She had a fabulous tongue. He piloted the boat for about ten minutes before he dropped anchor.

  His cell phone vibrated. He looked at the caller I.D. and placed the phone onto the console. He proceeded to the main cabin where Debra sat on the luxurious creamed colored baby suede leather couch.

  “I think you’ll love the plans I’ve made for this evening. Would you like a glass of the finest red wine available in the world?”

  “I suppose one glass wouldn’t hurt.” Her body brushed against his for a moment.

  “I can guarantee it won’t hurt. Deedra, play some light jazz.”

  “Any particular artist you or your guest would like to enjoy tonight, Dr. Franklin?”

  “Deedra, do I sense a bit of jealousy?”

  “I’m not programmed for feelings Dr. Franklin. Do you still want to listen to light jazz with her?”

  “Yes, smooth jazz featuring saxophones.”

  “Search parameters commenced. Your music will begin in a few seconds. I hope she likes it as much as you.”

  “Your Deedra has an attitude.”

  “I’ve noticed that too. She doesn’t hold her tongue. Believe it or not, it only happens if I have a female guest on board.”

  “Your Deedra displays jealousy.”

  “More attitude.”

  Dr. Franklin leaned in to give Debra a soft sensual kiss stopping inches from her lips as the song Europa by Santana started. He stroked her hair away from her face as she melted into his arms. “Time for a glass of red wine I paired for our special dinner tonight.”

  ***

  Ima positioned herself at the Purple Oz’s entrance. She flirted with men and women who strolled passed her. “Want to have a good time? The best drag show on Bourbon. We don’t bite.” Ima pretended to blow kisses, batted her false eyelashes and wave
d to anyone who acknowledged her. She spotted Congressman Thompson which excited her. “Oh honey. Yummy. Yummylicious. I bet you get all the women you want?”

  He stopped in his tracks. “I can get my fair share for a married man.”

  “Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can’t look.”

  “I’m not that kind of guy.”

  Ima puckered her lips as erotic as possible. “Then tell me, what kind of guy are you?” Her voice rang deep and manly.

  “A straight one.”

  “Don’t you want to have a little fun?” Ima pouted her lips to tease him.

  “Not at my expense.”

  “Who said anything about charging you darling? It’s free for you. Come on in.” She wiggled her gloved fingers and motioned him to enter. “I’ll buy you a drink and promise you’ll have a fabulous time under the Friday night lights.” She blew him a kiss.

  The Congressman staggered away.

  She stomped her foot. “You could at least pretend to catch it.”

  Blaze accidentally bumped into the Congressman. She spilled her drink on his shirt. Roth caught her before she stumbled to the ground. Ima pulled the Congressman into the club. “Come on. I have exactly what you need to tidy you up darling.”

  Blaze vomited onto the curb as Roth held her pony tail and patted her back. “I tried to warn you about drinking too much.”

  “She’s such a lightweight.” Mag slurred her words and belched.

  Jenni slurped the rest of her drink. “I’m out. Let’s go get another.”

  Blaze tried to talk as everything spun around her. “I… I think, I’ve, been, drugged.” She passed out in Roth’s arms.

  Roth tossed Blaze over his shoulder like a potato sack. “I think I’ll take her home. You girls coming?”

  Mag belched a long one. “Nope. It’s party night. We’ll Uber it home.” She staggered. “I’m just a little bitty teeny tiny drunk.”

  Jenni stumbled. “Get her home safely. Don’t let her out of your sight. There’s a serial killer out there. I’ve got Mag. She can get into a lot of trouble. Thank God you’re here to help her.”

  “Got it.”

  ***