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Authors: Deborah Coonts
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tips of my fingers and toes. I closed my eyes and embraced the relaxing heat, but I couldn’t escape reality.
Lyda Sue was dead.
What the hell had she gotten mixed up in?
I hadn’t a clue.
“So what do you think, Big Guy?” I picked up a piece of browned apple and pushed it through the bars of Newton’s cage.
“Screw you,” said Newton as he jerked the apple out of my hand.
“Bad parrot.”
“Asshole!”
I laughed out loud. The bird actually sounded like he meant it. I’m sure a shrink would have a field day with me. Not only did I talk to my parrot, but I took shit from him as well.
“Enough out of you, Big Guy. It’s time for you to rest.” I slid the cover over his cage. “And way past time for me to sleep.”
Chapter
FOUR
R ise and shine!”
Bright light flooded my bedroom. I rolled over and groaned as I squinted at the clock, then slammed my eyes shut again.
Seven A.M. Pretty early for Teddie to be sounding so chipper. He usually arose in time for cocktail hour.
“Okay, I can see we need to work on rising first. You look like you were run over and left for dead. Here, this ought to help.”
I caught the aroma of coffee and breathed deep.
“It works better if you drink it.”
I pried one eye open, then the other as I pushed myself to a sitting position. Grateful, I grabbed the proffered mug and took a big gulp. I narrowed my eyes. “Are those my Manolos?”
Teddie stepped back, hiked up the hem of his gown and showed me the shoes. “Don’t they just make the whole ensemble? I came down and borrowed them last night before the last show. I would’ve asked but you weren’t home.”
Teddie was in full makeup, a long black wig and chandelier earrings that brushed his shoulders. He wore a skintight, silver-sequined strapless sheath with a split on the side that bordered on the obscene, a hot pink boa around his neck—and my Manolos.
“You know how I hate it when you wear my shoes; you stretch them out.”
“Oh, don’t grouse.” He pretended to pout. “I let you borrow my Chanel.”
“You have a point.” I inspected him over my coffee cup. “What keeps that dress up?”
“Modesty.”
“Good line.” That was the second time in the last few hours I’d asked a man what kept his clothing where it was supposed to be. What was up with me lately?
“I stole it from
American in Paris
.” Teddie, or as the world knew him, the Great Teddie Divine, was the premier female impersonator in Las Vegas. We’d hired him away from the Flamingo, and he packed his new theatre at the Babylon five nights a week, Wednesday through Sunday.
“I thought I’d heard it before.” We both loved old movies. Tuesday nights were movie fest nights at my place. Teddie brought the movies. I made the popcorn—it was the only thing he trusted me to make and not poison him. “Are you trying to channel Cher in that getup?”
“I’ve added her to my act. What do you think?” He pirouetted in front of me.
“Sing something for me.”
Teddie broke into a stirring rendition of “I Got You, Babe.”
After a couple of verses, I held up my hand. “You got her down. But that’s a duet. Who plays Sonny?”
“I was hoping I could talk you into it.”
I snorted. “I’m a foot too tall, and you know I can’t sing. Did you go out looking like that, or is all of this for my entertainment?”
“I did a private party after the late show. We sorta got carried away. I’m just getting home.” He sat on the edge of my bed. “It seems you had a busy night as well. Everyone was talking about the girl and the pirate show. Was it suicide like the morning paper said, quoting you as the source, by the way?”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you go change into the Ted Kowalski I know and love, and let me take a shower? I’ll meet you in the kitchen in twenty minutes.”
“You got it. I’ll bring down some eggs and bacon for breakfast. The stuff in your fridge is green.” With a toss of the boa over his
Lyda Sue was dead.
What the hell had she gotten mixed up in?
I hadn’t a clue.
“So what do you think, Big Guy?” I picked up a piece of browned apple and pushed it through the bars of Newton’s cage.
“Screw you,” said Newton as he jerked the apple out of my hand.
“Bad parrot.”
“Asshole!”
I laughed out loud. The bird actually sounded like he meant it. I’m sure a shrink would have a field day with me. Not only did I talk to my parrot, but I took shit from him as well.
“Enough out of you, Big Guy. It’s time for you to rest.” I slid the cover over his cage. “And way past time for me to sleep.”
Chapter
FOUR
R ise and shine!”
Bright light flooded my bedroom. I rolled over and groaned as I squinted at the clock, then slammed my eyes shut again.
Seven A.M. Pretty early for Teddie to be sounding so chipper. He usually arose in time for cocktail hour.
“Okay, I can see we need to work on rising first. You look like you were run over and left for dead. Here, this ought to help.”
I caught the aroma of coffee and breathed deep.
“It works better if you drink it.”
I pried one eye open, then the other as I pushed myself to a sitting position. Grateful, I grabbed the proffered mug and took a big gulp. I narrowed my eyes. “Are those my Manolos?”
Teddie stepped back, hiked up the hem of his gown and showed me the shoes. “Don’t they just make the whole ensemble? I came down and borrowed them last night before the last show. I would’ve asked but you weren’t home.”
Teddie was in full makeup, a long black wig and chandelier earrings that brushed his shoulders. He wore a skintight, silver-sequined strapless sheath with a split on the side that bordered on the obscene, a hot pink boa around his neck—and my Manolos.
“You know how I hate it when you wear my shoes; you stretch them out.”
“Oh, don’t grouse.” He pretended to pout. “I let you borrow my Chanel.”
“You have a point.” I inspected him over my coffee cup. “What keeps that dress up?”
“Modesty.”
“Good line.” That was the second time in the last few hours I’d asked a man what kept his clothing where it was supposed to be. What was up with me lately?
“I stole it from
American in Paris
.” Teddie, or as the world knew him, the Great Teddie Divine, was the premier female impersonator in Las Vegas. We’d hired him away from the Flamingo, and he packed his new theatre at the Babylon five nights a week, Wednesday through Sunday.
“I thought I’d heard it before.” We both loved old movies. Tuesday nights were movie fest nights at my place. Teddie brought the movies. I made the popcorn—it was the only thing he trusted me to make and not poison him. “Are you trying to channel Cher in that getup?”
“I’ve added her to my act. What do you think?” He pirouetted in front of me.
“Sing something for me.”
Teddie broke into a stirring rendition of “I Got You, Babe.”
After a couple of verses, I held up my hand. “You got her down. But that’s a duet. Who plays Sonny?”
“I was hoping I could talk you into it.”
I snorted. “I’m a foot too tall, and you know I can’t sing. Did you go out looking like that, or is all of this for my entertainment?”
“I did a private party after the late show. We sorta got carried away. I’m just getting home.” He sat on the edge of my bed. “It seems you had a busy night as well. Everyone was talking about the girl and the pirate show. Was it suicide like the morning paper said, quoting you as the source, by the way?”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you go change into the Ted Kowalski I know and love, and let me take a shower? I’ll meet you in the kitchen in twenty minutes.”
“You got it. I’ll bring down some eggs and bacon for breakfast. The stuff in your fridge is green.” With a toss of the boa over his
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