The Case of the Lipstick Killer

"You're probably right.

"Lastly, you say that the police contacted your ex-girlfriend, Gwen Stein, and she denies being with you at the Kona Club that night."

"She's lying through her teeth, Nikki. I'm at a loss to understand why. I'm getting this sinking feeling that she is the one who is setting me up for killing my husband. She must figure, if she can't have me, she'll make it so no one else will--unless it's some hardened inmate in prison that makes me her bitch.

"And one more thing. I told the police to talk to the bartender who was there that night, and he would confirm my story. But you know what? And this is some crazy shit. Someone found him in his car the next morning with his throat slit. He bled out in his car, parked behind the Kona Club. And the police said his murder is connected to my husband's murder. Also, both my husband and the bartender had smudged lipstick kisses on their cheeks. But the cops wouldn't tell me that information."

"Then how do you know about the details?" I asked.

"Well, I'm very good at reading from pages that are upside down. I read that both my husband and the dead bartender had smudged lipstick kisses on their cheeks in the detective's file.

"That's just plain weird," I replied. "Looks like we have a killer on a rampage."

"I start shaking when I entertain the thought that Gwen might be responsible for that also. My God, I hope I'm wrong."

"Okay. With this other information you just gave me, does that about sum it up?"

"Pretty much. But I just want to repeat some things. I get confused about what I told the police and what I'm telling you. It's all starting to run together. I've never had a few drinks do such a job on my memory. The only thing I can figure is that all the stress I'm under increased the effects of the alcohol."

"All right," I replied. "You talk, and I'll add my notes to Nora's."

"I believe that my ex-girlfriend, Gwen Stein, is a psycho bitch who refuses to accept the fact that I broke up with her, and our relationship is over. I know I didn't kill my husband, but I'm starting to think that Gwen is the one who broke into my house and killed him and is trying to frame me. It makes sense. She knew the code to my house alarm, and it wouldn't have been difficult for her to have gotten a copy of my house key at some point. There were plenty of opportunities."

"So let me make sure I'm following you. You're married and have been for over ten years, but you had a girlfriend."

"That's right. It took me a while, but I finally figured out that I prefer being with women rather than men. I was getting ready to ask my husband for a divorce. I think he knew that I had a girlfriend. Not Gwen, though. I have another girlfriend."

"Another girlfriend?" I replied. "You don't waste any time."

"Things just have a way of happening," said Jackie.

"I guess so."

"Do I detect a little sarcasm in your voice, Miss Fontaine?"

"Not at all. I apologize if it sounds like that. It's just that I had some pretty crazy shit happen to me that gives me a very personal understanding of what you're going through. But enough about me. Please continue, Jackie."

"I think you have sufficient information to decide whether or not you want to take my case. If so, I would suggest starting with Gwen. She's wound up pretty tight about our breakup. Who knows what she might do?"

"I think you're right. Yes, I would be happy to take your case. Just one more thing so I can be as thorough as you would want me to be. Who is your new girlfriend?"

"Oh. Well, she's a wonderful woman. She's Hawaiian, she is 30 years old, and she is gorgeous, both inside and out. Her name is Hokulani Kahue. Her first name means Divine Star. Isn't that just so romantic? Everyone calls her Lani. I assume you probably want to talk to her. Let me give you her contact information."

"Well, that should do it, for now, Jackie. Let me get on this, and I'll be in touch if

I have any questions or find out something you should know. All right?"

"I didn't kill my husband, Nikki. Someone is trying to frame me. Please find out who."

The innocent desperation in Jackie's voice was palpable.

I don't think she did it either. I think it was her ex-girlfriend. Now I just need to prove it.

"Please talk to Nora at the front desk on your way out so she can provide you with our retainer fee information," I said as Jackie stood up to leave.

ELMHURST AVENUE, OAKLAND

February 4, 9:30 p.m.

The street was dark and lonely. It had rained earlier in the day, so the roads were still wet, and the night air was damp and penetrating. It was the type of dampness that could penetrate several layers of clothing and take up residence in your bones and cause nonstop shivering.

The quiet street gave no hint that you were in East Oakland, the land of drive-by shootings and the most dangerous area of the infamously violent city.

Danny and Dooley were on a mission comparable in risk to going house to house looking for insurgents in Fallujah, which Dooley knew all too well. As an Army Ranger sniper, he sometimes had to accompany his fellow soldiers during their forays into a town's residential area, busting down doors looking for bad guys. Dooley lost several friends on these missions.

Danny never enlisted in the military. He earned his bones roaming the streets with his gang, the Street Kings, in LA. That's where Danny found out about mixed martial arts fighting and trained continuously for three years. He eventually left the gang life behind and moved to the San Francisco Bay Area, where he ended up doing car repo work with Nikki Fontaine and was a part-time mechanic. He met Dooley when Dooley also came to work for Nikki doing car repos.

The quietness of this street didn't fool Danny either. He knew danger could explode in your face and take your life in a split second in neighborhoods like this.

This night Danny and Dooley were on the trail of a 2022 Dodge Challenger SRT, jet black, for which the owner had stopped making payments. Nikki Fontaine provided car repo services for some of the banks in Oakland that provided new vehicle finance loans to people with less than stellar credit ratings.

"There it is," said Dooley as they approached the black Challenger sitting in a driveway minding its own business.

Danny slowly performed a three-point turn and quietly backed the tow truck back into the driveway close to the Challenger. They were both focused on hooking the repo car up to their tow truck, and they didn't notice the three men walking down the sidewalk towards them.

"What we got here?" said one of the three young black men who lived in the area. The one with the baseball bat was the proud owner of the black Dodge Challenger SRT about to be hooked up to the tow truck and taken away.

"Listen, boys," said Danny. "We--"

"Boys?" replied the man with the baseball bat. "Who you calling boys? Don't you know that that's some racist shit?"

"Then I apologize," replied Danny. "I didn't know that."

"I'll let you slide on that one, man, but what the fuck you doing with my car?"

"Look. We're just doing our job. You stopped making payments on this beautiful car, and now the bank wants it back. We just return the car to them. You can then talk to the bank and do whatever they need you to do, and you can get your car back. We don't have anything to do with any of that," said Danny.

One of the young men decided he'd heard enough.

"You know what, white boy? I think I'm gonna kick your ass, and you can take that back to the bank. What you think 'bout that?"

Without saying a word, Danny's instincts and training took over, and he rushed the guy who just threatened him and body-slammed him down on the asphalt. Landing hard on his back had knocked the air out of him, and he lay stunned.

"Shit, man. Look what you did. You just hurt my cousin. You go' pay for that."

As Danny was getting back on his feet, he was staring at the second man to threaten him in less than one minute. Unfortunately, he had taken his eyes off the man holding the bat.

As Dooley started to yell a warning to Danny, the third man in the group slammed his fist into the side of Dooley's face, sending him sprawling to the ground in a heap of dizziness, confusion, and pain.

That's when the car owner raised his bat high in the air and hit a homerun with Danny's head. Danny dropped to the ground, unconscious. Bat-man raised the bat back in the air in preparation for home run number two.

"Hey, man, we gots to go."

Bat-man's friend had just heard something that he didn't because all of his focus was on Danny's head and his bat--sirens coming towards them.

"We not done, cracker," said bat-man as he and his two companions fled into the damp night as far away from the incoming sirens as they could get.

Danny would be spending the night in the hospital, and Dooley was pissed at allowing the perps to get the upper hand, let alone what happened to his boyfriend.

Danny will just punch you out if you piss him off. Dooley is another story. The EMTs attended to Danny en route from the crime scene on Elmhurst Street, and the ER staff attended to him at Highland Hospital. The EMTs had determined that he was in non-critical condition but would be spending the next few days in the hospital. Lucky for Danny, the bat had hit his head in a glancing blow, or things could have been much worse.

Once Dooley was assured that Danny was going to pull through, he went home and pulled a case down from a high closet shelf where it had been gathering dust.

"Hey, Baby," said Dooley as he opened up the case.

Baby was an M2010 Enhanced Sniper Rifle that was Dooley's constant companion while he was in the Rangers. The M2010 fires.300 Winchester Magnum ammunition. The Army had fitted this master sniper rifle with an extraordinary Leupold Front Focal variable power telescopic sight. For nighttime missions, Dooley had a clip-on sniper sight. And perhaps most importantly, for missions where noise from a gunshot could get you discovered and killed, he had Baby fitted with a quick-attachable/detachable sound suppressor with a muzzle brake to reduce recoil and jump.

Someone was gonna pay for what happened to Danny.

NIKKI FONTAINE INVESTIGATIONS

GRAND AVENUE, OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA

February 5, 1:30 p.m.

I'm still trying to wrap my mind around what happened to my boys.

I can't believe what happened to Danny and Dooley last night. Next thing you know, they'll both be asking for raises. I'll think about it. Stealing cars away from the owners isn't the safest way to earn a living, especially in a city like Oakland.

Yesterday we had rain, and today the sun's out. Go figure. The weather changes around here faster than a pole dancer at a strip club.

Just then, the door to Nikki Fontaine Investigations opened, and in walked a Creole Cajun beauty from Louisiana. Her parents had blessed her with tantalizing light brown skin due to having a French father and an African American mother.

"Hi, y'all. My name is Maxine Dupree. I would like to speak to Miss Nikki Fontaine if you please."

Maxine was a five foot seven bundle of Cajun dynamite from the state of Louisiana, who was a private investigator looking to work with me for some reason. Her small waist, curvy hips, and bodacious backside had caused more than one traffic jam. Her 34DD breasts were just the cherry on top of this chocolate Sunday from the South. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't want to learn more about Miss Dupree.

All eyes were now on her--all meaning Nora, Barton, and of course, me.

"Hi, Miss Dupree. I'm Nikki Fontaine. How may I help you?"

"Is there somewhere we can talk in private?" asked Maxine.

"Sure. Follow me."

Talk in private? I don't even know this lady. I'll just accept the fact that I'll be alone with this stunning creature in my office. What could go wrong? What would I like to go wrong? is the better question. Okay. Twist my arm. I'll risk it.

I sat behind my desk, and Maxine sat in one of the chairs in front of me.

"So, what can I do for you, Maxine?"

"Oh, darlin', please call me Max. That's what my friends call me. And I just know we're going to be friends. Can't ya just tell?"

"I'm always on the lookout for new friends," I replied as I purposely widened her eyes sarcastically.

"We're sistas," said Max.

"Sistas?" I replied. "We just met. I think I'd remember if we were related."

"Oh, honey, not that kind of sista. I'm a private investigator, just like you. I want to come to work with you. Do you know how many private investigations agencies are run by women? I'll tell you. Not very many. I've tried working with men, but they don't take me seriously.

"They take one look at my ass and my tits, and all they want to do is pat me on my ass or drop pens in the office and ask me to bend over and pick them up. Can you imagine that?"

Suddenly, I felt somewhat embarrassed, which I'm sure was displayed on my face for all to see.

"Yeah, I know. Don't you just hate it when men do that kind of shit?" I replied.

"Exactly. You know what I'm talking about. So what do you think?"

"About what?" I replied.

"About us working together. I have a few clients I can throw into the shrimp bucket. That way, I'm not just walking in with nothin'. And I have one case that is a doozie."

"I'll tell you what, Max. Why don't you meet me at the Kona Club on Piedmont Avenue after work, say around five or so? We can talk about all of this over some drinks and maybe a snack. I've wanted to go to this place for a while now."

"Sure thing, honey. I'll see you there at five. Bye, now."

Well, this place is already a two-ring circus. I think I just met the third ring.

THE KONA CLUB, PIEDMONT AVENUE, OAKLAND

February 5, 4:45 p.m.

I arrived a little early and before Max to get the lay of the land and surveil the place.

So this is where Jackie had her drink with Gwen the night of her husband's murder. Now, if Gwen took out the hapless bartender to eliminate an alibi for Jackie, that means we're dealing with more than just a killer; we're dealing with a sociopath.

"Damn, girl," said Max as she strolled into the Kona Club like a light breeze across the Caribbean. "I thought I was anxious. You wanted to see me again that much, huh," said Max with a broad smile and impeccably straight, white teeth.

"Well, you must be a private investigator or something. You figured me out that quickly," I replied.

"What can I get you to drink, Max?"

"I'll have what you're having. That looks like a Mai Tai. I just love those. I used to get them all the time when I was back home in Looziana."

"I just love your accent, Max. What part of Looziana are you from?"

"I'm from the chocolate city of New Awlins. At least that's what that pitiful mayor called it after Katrina hit and wrecked the damn place."

"So you want to come and work with me and the menagerie of people who already work there? You sure about that?"

Max paused and just looked at Nikki.

"I'm just kidding. I've got a great group of people working with me, and I think you'd fit in just fine. I won't bother telling you about the different personalities and lifestyles currently inhabiting my office. I'll leave that for you to find out in due time.

"You came at an opportune time. As it turns out, I've been thinking of taking on another investigator. I just don't want to work that hard. You can tell me about your clients and cases in the upcoming days. In the meantime, I have some work that I'd like you to do. When you come into the office tomorrow, I'll fill you in on the details, as well as your starting salary and bonuses and all that fun stuff. That work for you, Max?"

"Wow. It sure does. I thought I was gonna have to let you have your way with me or something," said Max as she lifted her glass up to take another sip and winked at Nikki.

"And what makes you think I'd be interested in something like that?" I replied.

"I'm just kidding. Let's just say I have an intuition about such things. Besides, who wouldn't be interested in this fine body. It's not hard to tell when someone is interested in you, whether it's a man or another woman. But that's okay. I don't mind the compliments from either side of the fence if you get my--"

"Yes, I think I follow you. But for right now, let's just figure out our working relationship before traveling down any other--streets. Are we okay with that?"

"More than. I'll be in about nine tomorrow morning. That work?" asked Max.

"So, Max, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself, where you're from, and your family," I asked.

"Wow. Okay. Well, I moved here from Looziana a little over six months ago. I took and passed the California private investigator's test recently, and I'm ready to go. Before I came here, I worked as a private investigator for the last three years in an agency in New Awlins. I told you how the men regarded me. I grew up relatively well adjusted.

"My dad was a compulsive womanizer, and my mom finally had had enough and sent him packing. The last I heard anything about my dad, he was flat broke from not knowing when to stop gambling, and he was shacking up with a woman who worked in one of the local brothels.

"I'm very close to my mom, and I can't wait to invite her out to California."

"All right. It doesn't sound like your life is any more screwed up than mine was.

"Okay. So I'll see you tomorrow morning," I replied as I took the toothpick with a cherry on it out of my drink and slowly greeted it with my tongue before using my luscious lips to slide it into my mouth.

"Damn, girl. Y'all know how to bring the heat to a conversation."

Max gently brushed my shoulder with the palm of her hand as she was leaving. I would have never thought such a simple gesture would make my whole body break out in goosebumps.

"You know, Nikki, I'm sensing some sort of confliction coming from y'all. It's not a yes-no confliction; it's more like two different yes feelings coming from you. Just remember, when your head gets confused, always go with your heart."

"I'll keep that in mind, Max."

"You know, just to put all of my cards on the table, I did have a serious relationship back home before I decided to leave everything behind and come out here to the Sunshine State. I was engaged to be married to a wonderful man. He was a doctor and one fine black man, and I regret having to break his heart and leave him in pain, but a girl has to follow her heart. I loved that man dearly, but I just felt that it wouldn't work out in the long run. I knew if I stayed there, he'd keep trying to get me back, and I'd keep coming across reminders of him every time I went to a restaurant we used to eat at or a particular park we'd go to for picnics and things like that.

"I just figured it would be better to leave and start fresh somewhere else. And now you know more about my history than I do of yours. I look forward to learning more about you, Miss Nikki."

Oh, if she only knew.

"Well, aren't you just so upfront about yourself? I'm more like an onion. You have to find out about me by peeling away my layers one at a time," I said.

"And I'm looking forward to peeling your sexy layers--one at a time, sugar."

Max just smiled and sauntered over to the exit and departed, leaving nothing but the thought of her and the scent of alluring perfume swirling around in my mind.

First Nora, and now this. I think I'm in some really deep shit.

"I'll have another Mai Tai, s'il vous plait," I said to the bartender.

"Coming right up," he replied.

ELMHURST AVENUE, OAKLAND

February 5, 9:45 p.m.

Dooley had visited Danny earlier in the hospital. The sight of Danny, with his head all bandaged up and all of the beeping gadgets in the room hooked up to him, was more than enough to push Dooley to do what he was about to do.