A Dish Best Served Cold Ch. 02

They scammed their way through the list bars, restaurants and nightclubs, dragging it out over three days because it was easy work and they were getting free booze from most of the establishments. Steve Randal even caught a hooker plying her trade in one of the nightclubs and gave her the option of throwing him a freebee or taking a trip down to Police Plaza. He fucked her on the backseat of their unmarked car in the alley behind the club to the disgust of Steve Edwards who might be a misogynist but would never force himself on a woman.

By the time they arrived at Ride 'em Cowboy both detectives were half in the bag. The club was in full swing, packed with the usual patrons and a gaggle of screaming girls out on a hen's night.

"Why the fuck do they always come to drag shows?" Felicity said to Jill Graham over the racket.

Felicity saw her burly doorman leading the two detectives towards her and Felicity's heart flew into her mouth. They were coming for her!

"These two detectives want to ask the staff some questions so I told them that they had better talk to the owner first," the big bouncer towered over the two detectives.

"I'm Felicity Benson, why don't we go back to my office where we can talk?" Felicity alighted from her barstool displaying a lot of leg which was not lost on either detective.

They followed her back to her office with their eyes glued to Penelope's ass, looking up occasionally to look at the two gorgeous women performing burlesque on the stage.

Felicity led the two detectives into her office, closed the door on the din of the nightclub and offered them both a seat. She went over to her small wet bar and poured herself a drink and raised her eyebrows to the two policemen who both nodded. She poured them both a long one and took them over to where they were seated on a two-seater couch. Her fingertips lingered on Steve Edwards' finger and he looked at Felicity questioningly. She licked her upper lip and withdrew her hand.

She was playing the seductress to see if she could find out what these two drunks knew. She was dressed in a blue sequined evening gown cut low to show off her tits and split to the waist to show off her legs. Felicity was using latex 'chicken-fillets' to enhance her breasts and was wearing sheer flesh-toned tights with rhinestoned fishnet pantyhose over them and six-inch heels. Her makeup was heavy and exaggerated and she was wearing a red lace-front wig as part of her ensemble. She was MCing the show tonight and dressed in fishy drag.

Felicity sat on a lounge chair next to the two men and crossed her legs. They gave her the onceover and she did the same. The two detectives were bleary-eyed and ruddy-faced, their ties were askew, their shirtfronts stained and one of them hadn't closed his fly properly. They both took big gulps of their drinks

Steve Edwards fumbled around in his suit jacket and eventually produced a crumpled photograph of Spencer Duvall.

"Do you know or have you ever seen this man?" Steve put the picture on the table and stabbed at it with his finger.

Felicity knew better than to lie, she would easily be found out.

"He came in a few nights ago, I don't know exactly when but if I look in my diary I can tell you. Panti Down was headlining the show that night," Felicity sipped her drink.

"What the fuck is a Panti Down?" Steve Edwards asked.

"It's the drag name of William Russell my booking agent and a performer here," Felicity reached for her cigarettes.

"Oh I get it. This is one of those drag bars like that nig... like that old bald black guy on TV," Steve Randal finally got it into his booze-soaked brain.

"The two chicks on the stage? They're guys too?" he leaned forward and took a cigarette from Felicity.

"They are drag performers yes," Felicity corrected him.

"And what about you? You're way too feminine to be a drag artist or whatever?" Steve lit his cigarette.

"There are no rules in drag. Drag performers can be any gender but no I'm not a man," Felicity used air quotes when she said man.

Best to keep them guessing.

"But I am a drag performer," she continued.

"This place full of queers? I saw some women out there," Steve Randal pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

"My place is LGBTI friendly but it also attracts those who are into the drag aesthetic. You'd be surprised how many straight men and women like to watch drag shows," Felicity finished her drink and collected glasses.

She went back to her little bar and refilled them.

"So the night that Spencer Duvall, that's the man's name in the photograph, came into your club; did you talk to him?" Steve Edwards asked.

"We spoke briefly at the bar. He had come into the club mistakenly. When he found out it was a drag club he decided he was in the wrong place. He came over to my table and apologised for calling the place a 'fag hangout' before he left. He was quite drunk if I recall," Felicity decided that to tell the truth... mostly.

"And you didn't see him leave? Did he talk to anybody else? Did he pick up a woman here by any chance?" Steve Randal inquired.

"The types of women who come into my bar are not likely to leave with someone like him and I don't allow hookers in my place," Felicity sniped.

"So he came in. Had a drink, spoke to you and left. That's it?" Steve Edwards took over the questioning.

"Sure, ask Jill Graham my head bartender. She's on tonight and she served him," Felicity replied.

"I'll send her in so you can talk to her," Felicity stood up and made her way to the door.

She went over to the bar and spoke to Jill Graham.

"Those two detectives want to talk to you about the other night when that drunk guy came into the bar and spoke to me at the bar and then followed me to my table," Felicity said.

Most of the LGBTI community in Balwyn had little time for the police and Jill Graham was no exception.

"Do I have to talk to them?" Jill screwed up her face.

"Just tell them what you saw. He came in. Bought me a drink and insulted me and I went over to my table. He came over to apologise and left," Felicity smiled at Jill.

"He sat with you a little and had a couple of drinks," Jill corrected Felicity.

"But he left alone Jill. The guy was murdered. Do you want the police crawling all over our club? You know a lot of the girls like to use recreational narcotics and I know that some of them go home with tranny chasers for money and Valentina is here illegally," Felicity put her hand on Jill's upper arm and gazed into her eyes meaningfully.

Jill nodded and began to take off her apron. Theirs wasn't a closed community but they took care of their own. Some of the girls had had run-ins with law enforcement and their experiences were never pleasant. The police were considered the enemy rather than being there to serve and protect them.

"I'll tend bar while you're gone. Don't take any shit from them; they're both well in the bag and they're homophobic misogynists," Felicity sent Jill on her way and watched her walk to her office before turning to tend to the customers and fill orders for the waiters.

Jill came back twenty minutes later.

"Those guys are assholes! One of them tried to hit on me and they are cleaning out your bar," Jill said with barely suppressed anger.

Felicity gave her a questioning look.

"I told them what I saw. The guy was drunk, he didn't like the clientele and he insulted you. He apologised for being an asshole and left by himself," Jill said putting her apron back on.

Felicity found the two detectives had made themselves comfortable in her office. They had drunk all of her scotch and were working their way through a bottle of gin. They had smoked most of her cigarettes.

"So did Mister Duvall say where he was going when he left?" Steve Edwards asked Felicity before she had even closed the door.

"No. Like I said, our conversation was short and far from amicable. I think he was concerned that someone might find out that he been in a gay bar so he couldn't wait to leave," Felicity snatched up her cigarettes.

"Do you want to interview any of the waiters who were working that night?" Felicity asked.

"Those little faggots in their short-shorts? They going to tell us anything different?" Steve Randal hiccupped.

"I doubt it," Felicity replied.

Steve Edwards pulled a card from his jacket and stood up unsteadily and handed the card to Felicity. He used it as an excuse to lean into her and whispered in her ear.

"If you remember anything else give me call. Give me a call anyway," his lips grazed her cheek and Felicity suppressed a shudder.

Steve Randal was so drunk he could hardly walk and Steve Edwards had to assist him off the couch and out the door.

When he went to bed that night Steve Edwards couldn't get Felicity Benson out of his mind. She was attractive but it was more than that. There was something about her that fascinated him and he hoped that he got to meet her again under more affable circumstances.

*****

"How are dumb and dumber going with their door to door?" Silvia asked Penelope the next day, referring to the two Steves.

"Neither of them knows how to properly complete a police report but they seem to have done surprisingly well. They traced Spencer Duvall's movements from the steakhouse where he had dinner to a series of bars and nightclubs. The witness statements verify he was bar-hopping and getting progressively drunker," Penelope read from her computer screen.

"The last place he was seen was a gay bar which he mistakenly entered, insulted the owner and left alone. I still think our perp is someone he had forced or blackmailed into to having sex with him. The only motive I see here is revenge. That said, maybe he met the wrong person online or a sex worker killed him for some reason. I doubt it was some random person he picked up in a bar," Penelope speculated.

She didn't know how right she was but also how wrong she was. Had the two Steves been more diligent and factual when they compiled their report they would have described Ride em' Cowgirl as a 'drag venue' rather than a 'gay bar' which might have warranted further investigation. Also had the two Steves been privy to the facts in evidence they too might have been more strenuous in their investigations.

Had they interviewed the waiter who was working Felicity's table that night he might have told them that although Spencer Duvall had left alone, before he left he and Felicity were canoodling at her table in the dark corner at the back of the club.

Through sloppy police work Felicity had dodged a bullet.

That night in her apartment Felicity felt empowered. The two coppers had left her club convinced by half-truths that there was nothing to see.

She turned Steve Edwards' business card over and over in her fingers and wondered how she was going to take revenge on the remaining four men. She had gotten away with murder once; could she do it again?

To be continued