Miss Dixieland Ch. 08-09

Delta Bayou and the Miss Dixieland Pageant (Delta Bayou Adult Mysteries no. 1)

********* Chapter 8: The Photoshoot **********

The sharp trill of a phone poked through Delta's dreams. She awoke with a start. It was her work cell. She groaned and disentangled herself from her duvet, arm flopping over to her nightstand for the phone. "Hello?"

"Robbins. Get to the station immediately." It was Stanford.

"What? What time is it? What's happened?"

"You'll find out soon enough." He hung up. Delta swung her legs out of bed, heart pounding. She checked her watch. It was 6 AM. Several hours earlier than she had needed to be up for the Miss Dixieland photoshoot happening later that day. She showered and dressed quickly before heading to the station. If it had been a real emergency, Stanford would have told her what it was. She wondered if it had something to do with Allison and her overdose the night before. The last she had heard, she had been in stable condition.

Chief Payne was in the station when she arrived. He opened his office door to her and shut it quickly behind him. "Nick Carrillo's body was found this morning."

She stopped in her tracks. Her heart clenched. "What?"

"He was discovered in the river this morning by two fishermen at dawn."

Chief Payne patted her shoulder. "I know it is hard when you know them."

"I didn't just know him. I liked him! What happened?" She felt suddenly sick on her stomach, and pressed her head against her hands, trying to master the flood of emotions, but only able to think of him as he looked that night in his office at the club, wet shirt on the floor, tanned skin glowing in the lamplight, alive and breathing. How could he be dead?

"We don't have the full coroner's report yet, but it appears that he was shot. Now that we've got a murder investigation on our hands, I'm adding Stanford to this case. And I'm considering pulling you from it altogether. It's very likely that he was murdered at the party you attended last night, Detective. Where were you?"

"What! You can't do that. You can't blame me for this! I was investigating Cassandra and Malcolm last night. I can't be everywhere. And when I saw him... he was fine." Delta could feel a headache beginning in her temples. And her stomach hurt. "I'm so close to cracking this," she said. "Don't pull me off of the case now."

The chief sighed and guided her to an interrogation room. "Ok. But Stanford is still on the case. He will investigate the murder in an official capacity. You will continue to work the drug angle undercover. I can't imagine it isn't related. You have until the night of the pageant. Then the case is all Stanford's."

"I'll solve it." For Nick. Her stomach clenched again and she shut her eyes tightly, seeing warm brown eyes, surrounded by shadows.

"Stanford is going to need your eyewitness account of the party last night. He's in Room 1."

Delta nodded and stumbled out of his office. She walked to the interrogation room and pushed open the door, seeing Stanford already sitting at the metal table. His head was propped on one hand. He looked tired and barely glanced at her when she entered. She sat down across from him. "The chief told you that I'm on the case now?" he said. Being tired didn't prevent him from sounding smug.

"Only for the murder. I'm still in charge of the drug trafficking."

"Since I got pulled from the arson case, we're going to need to renegotiate our agreement." He fiddled with his fingers and looked at her, hazel eyes flickering over her face, waiting for a reaction.

She noticed the cords of amber in his irises, the flecks of gold and cloud gray. His pupils seemed to dilate as she looked at him, even under the sickly shine of the fluorescents above. She realized she hadn't answered him yet and started, looking away from his eyes, now intensely trained on hers. "Sure. You find the murderer first and you win. I bust the drug ring first and I win. Not that this is an appropriate time to talk about our bet. A man is dead," she reminded him.

Stanford looked appropriately chagrined and nodded, flicking on the tape recorder on the table. "Alright. Let's talk about the party last night. Nick Carrillo was killed. He attended the same party you were at. What did you see?"

She recounted her arrival at the party, the drugs, the drinking, and the people having sex all around the place. "When I could get away, I went looking through the upstairs. I was in the library for... forty-five minutes maybe an hour, and then went to the kitchen when I heard the screaming. A girl had overdosed. I helped her and got her loaded into the ambulance."

"Hang on, what were you doing for all of that time in the library?"

"Investigating."

"Find anything?" She told him about the numbers she had seen on the computer screen. He frowned. "And that took an hour? And no one went looking for you in all that time?" She narrowed her eyes and looked at the table, suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. "What else were you doing?"

She glanced down and scratched a nail against the metal table top. "I was with Sasha Wilkins."

"Doing what?"

Delta didn't answer him. She looked into his eyes and then looked away, preferring to study her pink fingernails on the table.

Stanford slapped his hand down on the table. "Come on, Robbins! Really? You were fucking her?"

"I'm undercover, Stanford. I have to do things sometimes."

"It's unethical."

"It's work!"

"That's what prostitutes say."

"Are you calling me a whore right now? Really, Stanford?"

He sighed and hung his head between his hands. "No, that's not what I meant, ok? I just meant... Look, I know you're undercover. I know you have to do some things that are maybe less than... ethical for the investigation. But you need to think really hard about what you're doing with these people. You don't want to get pulled in and you certainly don't want to miss important details of the case because you're too wrapped up in it to clearly see what's going on. A man was murdered last night. With you, a police officer, present! And you didn't notice anything because you were busy fucking around."

Delta didn't try to offer him any excuses. The truth was she was furious at herself because he was right. She had spent far longer than she should have alone with Sasha when she should have been actually doing her job.

Stanford clicked off the tape recorder. "Just go home," he said. "I'll take your statement later, at the photoshoot."

"What do you mean?"

"All of the contestants and judges are supposed to be at a photo shoot today, right? I can interview as many people who were at that party as possible all at once. I'll see you there. Now go home, go back to sleep. You look like you could use the rest."

She studied his face, looking for any trace of mockery, but didn't find it in the hard line of his mouth or his shadowed eyes. She nodded and rose from her chair. "I'll see you there."

****

The hard ache in her chest had not dissolved by the time Delta arrived at the photo shoot location- a brick building on Norridgeton's Main Street. It had a high false facade and tall framed windows with a pitched awning above the entrance for shade. Delta guessed that it had been built in the early 1900s, probably a former store. Now, with its insides hollowed out and its wooden rafters exposed, it was used as a studio and trendy wedding venue.

Many of the contestants were already there, and Delta found them in the back, where a changing area had been set up behind some makeshift screens near the bathrooms. The girls were buzzing with conversation. It seemed everyone had heard about Nick. One girl was even crying, but Delta couldn't remember her name.

She saw Tabitha and Bree. They were sitting together, applying their makeup in one of the mirrors that had been placed on fold-out tables for the contestants. "Any news about Allison?" Delta asked. She sat her bag on the floor beside them and rummaged for her makeup, peering into a mirror.

Tabitha had just finished swiping her red lipstick across her curved upper lip. She tucked a braid behind her ear and grabbed a tissue, perfecting her cupid's bow. "She's gonna be ok. But the doctors said that she could have died. They had to pump out her stomach. And obviously, she can't compete anymore."

Bree's mouth wavered and she dabbed at an eye with her fingertips. Her pale eyelashes fluttered as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She looked tired and pale, her freckles standing out in stark contrast against her wan face. "I was so scared for her." She touched her cheek, and blinked out another tear. It left a silver trail down her cheek. "And Nick... I just can't believe it. It's all so terrible!" She pulled a tissue from the box and wiped her cheek. "At least I didn't put on mascara yet," she said, mostly to herself.

Tabitha patted Bree's copper hair. "It's going to be ok. Allison is going to be fine. And they'll catch whoever did that to Nick." She looked at Delta, who suddenly noticed how tired Tabitha seemed. "Thanks for helping Allison last night, by the way."

"Of course. I'm just glad she's going to be alright. Do you know what happened to her?"

Bree shuddered. "It was the Red Cherry. Sasha always warned us not to take too much. She said it's a stimulant. But I guess Allison took extra."

"I'm a little nervous to take it now," Tabitha said, placing a small foil packet down on the table. She pushed at it with a teal lacquered nail.

"You don't have to take any," Delta said.

Bree looked up from applying her mascara. "It's a week until the pageant, Delta. This is our last chance to make an impression on the judges." Her voice was soft and uncertain.

"You want to make the same kind of impression that Allison did?"

Bree's lip trembled. "Everyone else is doing it though. And this is for the calendar. We have to look good in our pictures."

"The show must go on, as they say." Tabitha took something out of her purse and Delta squinted at it. It was a painted pocket knife that said: "The Lord is my strength" in cursive over the image of a sunset. "You're right, though, Delta. I think we're all nervous about it now." She cut a pill in half. "So maybe we should only take a half. What do you think, Bree?"

Bree plucked up her half of the pill. "Makes sense. But we should definitely quit after the pageant."

Tabitha nodded. "I mean, definitely. Although if we stick to just one, or even half of one, maybe that would be ok."

"Yeah, I think that's safe." Bree had finished applying her mascara and had moved on to spreading blush across her cheeks. She popped the pill in her mouth. Tabitha followed suit.

"Do you want one, Delta? I can cut one in half for you, too. It should start working by the time they are ready for our photos. Sasha says to charge for them, but you can have it for free."

Delta sighed, longing to knock their pretty heads together. But she just shook her head. "I'll pass this time. But hey, do you know where I can get some for later?"

Tabitha folded her knife and put it back in her bag. "I always get it from Sasha. She knows a guy. Oh, and speak of the Devil..." Tabitha jerked her head to the entrance of the changing rooms. Sasha and Cassandra had arrived, arms around each other's waists. Cassandra looked to literally be clinging to Sasha for support.

Delta pressed her lips firmly together at the sight. Tabitha must have noticed the expression because she laid a hand on Delta's arm. "Sasha really likes you. But she's... she's always had this thing with Cassandra. They used to date but they broke up because Cassandra's family didn't know about her being into girls. But I promise, they're just friends now. Sasha is definitely interested in you."

Delta didn't respond. She finished putting on her evening dress and watched as Cassandra took her leave, heading into the bathrooms as Sasha walked towards the other contestants. Delta moved forward to meet her, but was distracted when blue lights flashed through the sheets separating the changing area from the studio. A hush fell over the girls and they all looked at each other nervously.

Sasha smiled shyly in greeting as Delta approached. "Why are the police here?" She touched her arm lightly, making the hairs on Delta's skin stand up. The door over the entrance chimed.

"Because Nick Carillo was murdered last night. Surely you heard since you seem to have spent the night with Cassandra. Someone must have told her."

Sasha flinched and pulled back her hand. "Jesus Christ. No! I didn't know. And I didn't spend the night with her, ok?"

Delta shrugged, not sure why she was feeling so jealous. "So Cassandra doesn't know?"

"I don't know. If she does, she didn't mention it. I gave her a ride today. You'd think it would come up. I should go find her. She's going to be devastated."

Sasha started to move away, but Delta put her hand on her shoulder. "Just let the cops talk to her about it."

"What do you mean?"

"That's why the cops are here. They are going to have to question us all about last night. I imagine they'll start with the people that knew him best. The judges... Cassandra."

As if on cue, she heard Phil's voice from around the curtain. "Ladies! If you could all please come over here!"

Delta and Sasha looked at each other and then went out into the studio with the crowd. Sasha looked over at her shoulder towards the restrooms, but Cassandra had not yet emerged. Stanford and another officer were standing on either side of Phil, who was looking a little worse for the wear in a half ironed lilac shirt. Stanford, in comparison, looked more alert than he had earlier that morning, though his jaw and neck were scruffy with stubble. His arms were crossed, making the muscles of his forearms stand out, visible under the rolled up sleeves of his button up. He ignored Delta and stared out at the crowd, hazel eyes flicking from face to face, though somehow never seeming to land on hers.

"As I am sure you all have heard, our judge, Nick Carrillo was murdered last night. I know that we are all heartbroken at the loss of our friend and colleague." Phil's voice cracked and he looked awkwardly down at his loafered feet. "But the Miss Dixieland Pageant has gone on every year for seventy years. We can't let down our community, our friends. I will be stepping in to replace Mr. Carrillo as a judge. I will also be doing everything I can to help the Bafford County Police Department investigate this horrible crime. I hope you will do the same." He gestured to Stanford.

Stanford stepped forward. His voice was low, but smooth as honey. Delta could almost feel the audience around her leaning in, desperate for his words. "Nick Carrillo was last seen at a party last night which many of you attended. Officer Harper and I will be taking your statements throughout the course of the day. It is essential that you tell us everything you know about the circumstances of last night so we can find the person responsible. Mr. Detmar has provided us with a guest list of everyone who was at the party. I will send for you individually. Until then, keep on as normal."

Clearly dismissed, the contestants returned to putting on their costumes and makeup, talking more loudly than ever. There was an electric undercurrent in the air. The voices were sharp and afraid and Delta heard many of the women trying to guess what had happened.

After a few minutes, their speculation was interrupted as Stanford called his first witness. It was Bree. The photographer, a middle-aged man with a black beard and a thinning hairline was buzzing around the judges. Delta edged closer to them and heard him complaining about the police interrupting his photoshoot. He was working with the judges to figure out how to schedule the photoshoots around the questioning.

Malcolm caught Delta's eye as she eavesdropped. "Ah, Miss Bayou. You look ready... and unoccupied. Why don't you go first?" He walked over to Delta and pulled at her elbow, half dragging her to the white backdrop where the camera equipment was set up. There were a few props nearby, ready for the seasons photoshoots for the calendar. But the first round of photos was just for contestants in their evening wear, for next year's promotional materials.

The photographer stepped up, directing Delta through a few poses. She cocked her hips and smiled, going through the motions physically, but distracted. She was looking out at the people around her. It was almost certain that one of them was a murderer, but who?

Phil was tense, that much was clear. She saw him deep in conversation with the other judges, waving his arms around. The small lines around his eyes and mouth seemed deeper than they had just yesterday. He was talking to Mike, whose round face was blotched with red. It didn't look like a pleasant conversation, but they didn't seem to be arguing either. Cassandra sat at their side, arms crossed, staring out of the front window. She still looked close to tears.

The photographer interrupted her thoughts. "All done." Glancing at his clipboard, he said "Looks like you'll be in the October photoshoot. Sexy witch costumes are in the back. And send in," he checked his list, "Sasha Wilkins."

Delta went back into the changing area and found Sasha on her phone, dressed and ready to go out. "They're ready for you," she told her.

Sasha stood. "Good. Let's get this over with."

Delta followed her out and watched Sasha at her poses. She was comfortable and cool in front of the camera. There wasn't a trace of worry in her face, her lipsticked smile was relaxed, her dark eyes shone underneath her long mascaraed lashes. Her light brown skin seemed to be glowing underneath her red gown. Delta noticed that Cassandra was watching her too. She looked away when she noticed Delta watching.

When the photographer was done with Sasha, Delta walked with her, back to the changing area. "Jesus Christ," said Sasha. "Is everyone still popping Cherries?" It seemed that the drugs had kicked in. Although many of the women were dressed, it was clear that they were more interested in being out of their clothes than in them. Tabitha and Bree sat together on the floor, kissing and rubbing each other's arms. Sasha marched up to them, arms crossed. "Are you two out of your fucking minds? The cops are here!"

Bree rolled her eyes and giggled. "They won't know, Sasha. It's a sexy photoshoot. No one can tell."

Sasha sighed. "Get out there, it's your turn anyways." Bree rose. A deep pink flush was visible across her ample chest, but she left with a longing look over her shoulder.

Tabitha slumped against the wall. "We only took halves, Sasha."

"The police are here!" Sasha reminded her in a pointed whisper. "It is an illegal drug no matter the dosage!" She scowled and turned to Delta and fumed, "I swear to God, these girls have no sense."

Delta reached out to her, rubbing Sasha's tense shoulders. She changed the subject. "So what month are you?"

"January. I need to get changed. What month are you?"

"October. I'm a sexy witch." Delta turned to the costume rack, and flipped through and found a black outfit with the month pinned to it on a slip of paper. It was not very substantial. She pulled off a January outfit for Sasha.She peeled off her own dress and tried not to notice as Sasha undressed as well.

Once dressed, Delta took stock of her outfit. It came with fishnet stockings and black boots. The dress was little more than a pile of frayed black ribbons, two to cover her breasts, and a skirt of them that was hardly long enough to cover anything. Sasha's outfit was a white onesie with a sweetheart neckline and white fishnets. "What are you supposed to be?" asked Delta.

Sasha pulled a pair of white bunny ears out of a bag. "Snow bunny," she groaned. "Could this be any cheesier?"