Revenge of the Chili Queens Read online

  The words froze on my lips. The blood stopped pumping through my veins. I stood paralyzed, staring at the screen.

  “Maxie?” Nick waved a hand in front of my face. “Don’t move. I’ll call EMS. This is some kind of delayed shock. You’re just reacting to what happened to you this afternoon. You’ll be fine.”

  “I’m fine now.” I batted his hand away and grabbed the remote, stopped the DVD, and started it again from the beginning. “In fact, I’m finer than fine, and in a moment, you’re going to see why.”

  He stepped back and watched just like I did.

  The first guy who came on screen was dark-haired and gorgeous. Oh yeah, I remembered him, all right: strong shoulders, narrow waist, an arrow of fine, dark hair that dusted his chest and went all the way down to—

  “Why are we watching this?” Nick asked.

  I shushed him and waited for the same funny flash we’d seen on the video back at Dom’s. Just as I remembered, the picture flashed off, then came on again, and when it did, there was a slim, light-haired guy on the screen.

  I slapped my forehead. “I should have seen it before,” I wailed. “I would have seen it if I was watching closely and didn’t get up to get another Twinkie the first time he was on.”

  “You’re seeing it now.”

  “Not that it.” I rolled my eyes because it was a pretty lame joke, and I pointed away from the it Nick was talking about and at the guy’s face. “That it. This is the guy I saw Eleanor Alvarez talking to this afternoon.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.”

  Nick cocked his head. “A classy lady like Eleanor and him?”

  “Well, he had clothes on down by the River Walk, so he looked pretty classy, too. His hair was shorter, too.”

  “And he was here? In San Antonio?”

  “Obviously.” I chewed on my lower lip and studied the guy’s face. “Definitely him. And you know what this means, don’t you, Nick?”

  “That Eleanor likes good-looking guys.”

  He was trying to get my goat, and I was so not in the mood. Sugar careening through my bloodstream, I whirled away from the TV screen. “That there’s some connection between Eleanor and Dom.”

  “Really?” Nick scratched a finger behind his ear. “I’m pretty sure the DVD doesn’t prove that.”

  “Don’t you see? Dom had a video and this guy was on it. And Eleanor was talking to this guy.”

  “All right.” He sat down on the green vinyl bench, and I slid into the one opposite. Lucky me, I was facing the TV screen. “But that doesn’t mean Eleanor and Dom knew each other.”

  “But it could.”

  “It could also mean that this guy was visiting San Antonio and he was lost and he stopped Eleanor to ask for directions. It could mean that once upon a time this guy was involved in some sort of weird something that to me looks like a porn audition and that now, he’s an upright citizen and he’s involved in one of the charities that Eleanor works for. It could mean—”

  “I get your point.” Which didn’t mean I had to like it. “You have to admit, it’s a mighty big coincidence.”

  “It is. But you’re jumping to conclusions again.”

  “Me?” As long as I was being accused of jumping, I jumped up and got myself another beer and I got one for Nick, too, and opened them both with the Consolidated Chili can opener Sylvia had left on the counter. Yes, it offended me no end, but desperate times, desperate measures and all that. “When have I ever jumped to conclusions?”

  Nick took a sip of beer. And then another one. He set the bottle down on the table. He picked it up again. “When you heard I put Dom in the hospital, you assumed I was the one who killed him.”

  “I did. But that was only natural, right? I mean, really, when you hear that Guy Number One steals Guy Number Two’s wife, and that Guy Number Two is so mad about it, he beats Guy Number One senseless . . . that’s not jumping to conclusions. That’s being logical. You know, like Sherlock Holmes or one of those detectives on TV.”

  “It might have been perfectly logical. And you might have been thinking like Sherlock Holmes or some other detective. Except I have a feeling those fictional detectives, they usually get their facts straight.”

  I can be excused for nearly choking on my beer. I slammed the bottle on the table. “Those aren’t the facts? You didn’t beat up Dom?”

  “I did.”

  “And Dom and Nichole weren’t sneaking around behind your back?”

  “They were.”

  “Then jeepers creepers, tell me what facts I got wrong!”

  “Maxie?” A bleary-eyed Sylvia dragged out of the bedroom holding her pink robe closed with one hand. “What’s all the noise about? What’s going on out here?” She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, realized Nick was there, and said, “Oh, it’s you. Good night,” and disappeared back into her bedroom.

  I waited until her door closed before I eyed Nick across the table. “So?”

  He made to stand up. “We really don’t need to talk about this.”

  “We do.” I put a hand on his arm to keep him from bolting. “For one thing, I just gave you a beer and you owe me for that. For another . . .” I don’t do pitiful well, but I gave it my best shot. I hung my head and looked at him through the fringe of my dark bangs. “I did almost die today. That means someone doesn’t want me to solve this case. And that someone . . . that awful, horrible, terrible someone might try again. You know, to shut me up.” Since this was true and mighty disturbing, I didn’t stop to think about it. “You wouldn’t want me to die without knowing the whole story, would you? That would be—”

  “Pathetic.” He finished off his beer and got up, but he didn’t leave. He got another beer and brought me one, too. “Not pathetic that you would never know, pathetic that you think you can get me to talk with that sorry act. You’re not the helpless type.”

  I grinned. “Glad you noticed. I’m not the type who forgets, either. And you said—”

  “That you didn’t have all the facts. Yes, I know. It’s just that . . .” He sat back down in the seat across from mine. “You’re not helpless, and I’m not always comfortable getting too personal.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

  He scraped a hand across his chin. “The thing is, I didn’t beat up Dom when I found out what he and Nichole were up to.”

  This did not jibe with reality as I knew it. I crinkled my nose. “Sure you did. You told me—”

  “That Dom and I were partners. That he and Nichole were fooling around. That I put him in the hospital. But that wasn’t right away, not right when I found out what the two of them were up to. Actually, the first thing I did was move out of our apartment, then I requested a new partner. And then a couple years later . . .”

  “You beat Dom up a couple years later? That’s just weird. I mean, if you were still mad at him after all that time, that does make you look like a murder suspect! If you can still be mad at a guy for stealing your wife a couple years after it happened—”

  “I didn’t beat him up because of him cheating with Nichole. I was over it. Long over it. But see, I found out that Dom . . .” He took a sip of beer, and that was supposed to distract me, but don’t think I didn’t notice that his expression darkened like a thundercloud.

  “He hit her,” Nick said.

  It took me a couple seconds to process and a couple more to get the words past the ball of outrage that blocked my throat. “He . . . Dom . . . he hit Nichole?”

  Nick nodded. “When I found out . . . well, I talked to her about it and she gave the usual excuses: it was an accident, he didn’t mean it, he swore it would never happen again. And I guess she really believed all that, because like I told you, she and Dom, they were talking about getting back together again. But I’ll tell you what, the next time I bumped into Dom, I couldn’t help myself. Nich
ole got a couple bruises and a black eye thanks to him. Dom ended up with a broken nose, a few stitches, and a couple broken ribs. That was thanks to me.”

  “And you lost your job because of it.”

  Nick’s shrug wasn’t casual enough to fool me. “A man should never lay a hand on a woman.”

  “Even a woman who ripped out your heart.”

  “Even a woman who ripped out my heart.”

  “That’s—”

  “Don’t say it’s crazy. Don’t tell me I was wrong. That’s just what I think. It’s just what I feel. And I’m not going to let a creep like Dom Laurentius get away with something like that. I don’t care if it was Nichole or some other woman. It’s cruel and it’s cowardly.”

  “And I wasn’t going to say you were wrong.” To prove it, I got up and scooted over to Nick’s side of the table, and he was forced to slide over to make room for me. By the time his back was against the wall, he couldn’t retreat any farther, and I closed in.

  I looked into his eyes, and yeah, that put my lips dangerously close to his. But then, that was the whole point.

  “I was going to tell you that you’re pretty special,” I said, and hey, why bother trying to explain what’s impossible to put into words? Rather than waste my time, I kissed him.

  • • •

  Believe me, I was glad when Saturday finally rolled around. What with working the Showdown and the Chili Queens fund-raisers, nearly getting killed, and investigating a murder, I was dead on my feet. I would be glad when Sunday—and the Miss Consolidated Chili pageant—was over and we would head to New Orleans for the next Showdown. At least there, I would no longer have to worry about spending my evenings on Alamo Plaza and my days fearing for my life. Plus thanks to my bet with Sylvia, I’d have Saturday off, too.

  But Sunday wasn’t over. In fact, it hadn’t even started, and for now, Alamo Plaza was the place to be. Saturday’s was the last of the Chili Queens fund-raisers, and this one promised to be a doozy. Eleanor and her society pals were raising money to help support a city school of the arts, and all things artsy were in the air. The students who helped act as hosts and hostesses for the night’s event had been encouraged to show off their style and their spunk, and when I arrived at the plaza, I was greeted by two of them dressed as pink flamingos—complete with feathers. Another couple had come as giant chilies that wore sombreros and ponchos. Cute, but not as cute as the Chili Chick.

  In fact the whole plaza took on a festive atmosphere the likes of which it hadn’t had all week. If I had the energy I would have joined in the line dance going on outside Teddi and Ginger’s tent.

  Instead, I slipped over to the Women’s League tent and headed straight for Eleanor, who was grooving to the line-dance beat while she rolled plastic silverware in paper napkins.

  “Maxie!” She smiled when she saw me. “What can I do for you?”

  “Not much.” I was wearing that cheap black wig, and I took a moment to toss one of the braids over my shoulders. “Unless you want to explain how you knew Dom.”

  She needed a moment to think about it. “Dom? Oh, the man who was killed here the other night. I think I told you, I talked to him on Monday. But other than that, I didn’t know him.”

  “Except that you and Dom have the same taste in porn.”

  This time, she needed more than just a moment to compose herself. She looked gorgeous that evening in a slim black dress with short sleeves that were dusted with beading. Her flaming hair was pulled back and tucked into a chignon at her neck, and her makeup was flawless. Still, I couldn’t help but notice that she went ashen.

  “What on earth are you talking about?” She pressed a hand to her heart, and again, I saw that blue sapphire ring she wore on her left hand. It winked at me in the glow of the twinkling overhead lights. “I can assure you that I don’t know anything about . . .” She looked left and right and lowered her voice. “Porn.”

  “The guy,” I said. “The one you were with at the River Walk yesterday. I’ve seen a video. And he’s on it.”

  “And it’s . . .” Again, that furtive look. “Porn?” Eleanor fanned her face. “Oh my. Are you sure?”

  “I could be if I saw him naked. For now, I’ll have to trust my memory of faces. It was him all right; honey hair, chiseled features, big—”

  “Oh my!” Eleanor dropped into the nearest chair. “Does anyone else know?” she asked.

  I figured Nick did not fall into the anyone else category since he didn’t buy into the Eleanor/Dom connection. “Just me. And it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. Hey, you’re a young woman. And from what I hear, you had an old husband. I get it. Really, I do. I enjoyed watching the video, too.”

  She shook her head as if to clear it. “Video? What are you talking about? And as for my husband . . .” Eleanor sat up, lifted her chin, and inched back her shoulders. “Jacob Alvarez might have been a bit older than me, but he was man enough, I assure you. I don’t need to indulge in prurient interests.”

  “Even though ol’ Jacob is dead and gone?”

  “And don’t you think that I don’t miss him every single day!” She sniffled. In a ladylike sort of way. “But you’re telling me that . . . James?” Again, she looked around just to make sure no one was listening. “James Faragut, he’s the man you saw me with. He’s not a friend, if that’s what you’re thinking. We have a business relationship.”

  She didn’t give me a chance to dispute it.

  “Strictly business,” Eleanor said, and whispered, “James is a model and an actor. He was hired to emcee the Miss Consolidated Chili pageant tomorrow. If word gets out that he’s been in porn videos . . .” She got so pale, I thought she was going to pass out, but with a shake of her shoulders, she composed herself. “My goodness, I’d do what I could to get him fired if there was time to find another emcee. I hope no one recognizes him.”

  “You’re probably safe if he leaves his clothes on.”

  She did not see the humor in this. In fact, she gave me a squinty-eyed look. “You’ve actually seen one of these videos? With James in it?”

  “Sort of. I’ve got what I think is a DVD of an audition.”

  “So maybe he never got a part in a movie!” Eleanor’s face was transformed by an angelic smile. “Maybe there’s no way anyone is going to recognize him, because maybe he never appeared in a movie. Any kind of movie.” As if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders, she rose from her chair. “That’s it. That’s what I’m going to believe. I’m not going to let baseless worries get me all upset. It might be nothing, right? And there’s no use worrying about nothing.”

  “Absolutely. But you might want to talk to him about it. And while you’re at it, ask him how he knew Dominic Laurentius.”

  “Did he?” Eleanor’s bowed lips opened into a perfect O of astonishment. “You don’t suppose he’s the murderer, do you? And we have to appear at the pageant with him tomorrow? I know, I know,” she said, and she patted my arm and turned away. “I shouldn’t worry, and I shouldn’t jump the gun, and I’m not going to say anything that points any fingers at anyone, but I’ve got to let the girls in the pageant know that they need to be very careful tomorrow.”

  I watched her hurry away, and I actually might have gone after her if something didn’t catch my eye. Sleek, shiny, black. John Wesley Montgomery’s limo slipped by in the shadows along the far end of the plaza and stopped.

  I waited for the driver to zip around to the back door and open it, and when he didn’t and that back door didn’t open, I made my move, zigzagging through the crowd and coming at the limo from behind. By the time I got there, the driver was out of the car, leaning back against the closed front door, puffing on a cigarette.

  “Why have you been following me?” I demanded.

  The man was maybe fifty, short and hefty, and he eyed me and then glanced around. I liked to thi
nk that I intimidated him and he was checking to see how far away help might be. Tell that to the rumba beat that started up in my chest, the one that told me that he was looking around to make sure that when he came at me there wouldn’t be any witnesses.

  It was too late to think about that. In fact, it was too late for anything but a little bravado and a whole lot of sass. In the hopes of looking a little less goofy, I pulled off my wig.

  “Me.” I pointed a finger at myself. “Do you recognize me now? You’ve been at the Showdown and you’ve been around here and you almost ran me over on Monday night. Why have you been following me?”

  “Sorry, ma’am. You must have me mixed up with someone else.”

  “I don’t have your license plate mixed up. Tri-C. How many big black limos have that license plate?”

  “You’ll have to excuse me, ma’am.” He wasn’t wearing a hat, but he touched two fingers to the curl of dark hair that fell over his forehead. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Following me.”

  His smile was so gosh-darned honest, I nearly believed it was real. “I don’t even know who you are. Why would I follow you?”

  “I have a feeling you don’t do anything your boss doesn’t tell you to do. Is he in there now?” Since the windows of the limo were tinted, it didn’t do me any good to try and look inside, but I pressed my nose to the back window, anyway. The only thing I saw was my own reflection.

  “What are you up to, John Wesley Montgomery?” I knocked on the window. “What are you trying to hide?”

  “You’ll have to move away from the car, ma’am.” The driver moved toward me.

  I stepped back. “Tell him I know,” I said. “Tell your boss I know he had something to do with Dom Laurentius’s murder. There was a trail of your cheap Consolidated Chili giveaways near the body. Tell him that for me. Tell him I’m onto him.”

  Without another word, the driver slipped into the car and the engine purred to life.