"You'all are nuttin' but a charlatan."
The Deep South swiftly segued into Brooklyn, as Miss Swat met her busty Waterloo. Dr. Dunnett continued to retreat, the crowd parting smoothly for him like the Red Sea did for Moses.
"Now, now, Larry!"
There was a stunned silence.
It's quite hard to stun a silence. You have to hit it very hard, or more than once. This silence took a bit of a battering.
Dr. Dunnett tripped backward over the door jamb and disappeared out into the night.
Miss Swat grabbed a carving knife from the buffet table and leapt through the door after him.
Boner started jumping up and down with both feet at the back of the stage.
An unpleasant crunching sound came from my handbag.
Inspector Parrot shot through the door after Dunnett and Swat with the look of a policeman who knew how to take knives away from fallen blondes.
Boner collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Frippery fainted.
Mrs. Goldfinkel finished her song with a flourish of, "…Surrey with the Fringe – on – the – Top!" and bowed deeply.
That's how you stun a silence.
I let it go on for a few seconds then rose to my feet and applauded once more. After a few more seconds I realized I was on my own and sat down, with as sheepish an expression as I can manage when I am trying not to laugh my head off.
"Larry? Who's Larry?"
"Wouldn't we like to know, my dear? And we shall. A boy's name, I fancy. And I have a feeling the good doctor was addressing the bounteous Loretta at the time."
"Rhymes with Harry… no, there couldn't be two of you!"
I let that one go so as not to spoil the pleasure of watching Boner crawl across the floor to his scraggy fainted wife. Frippery raised herself on one arm as he approached and wiped the back of a hand across her brow.
Boner's clothes seemed to be rather shredded, and on closer examination his exposed skin was covered in scratches. I took the coffin out of my bag and opened it.
"Oh dear! What a way to go!"
Jay peered into the box and shuddered.
"I'll tell the animal cruelty people! What a mess…"
The cockroach was well and truly stomped. Its carapace was fractured and bits of leg had gathered in the bottom of the box.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…" I intoned as I surreptitiously tipped the mortal remains of the insect into the evening bag of the aspiring authoress at the next table.
When I looked up Boner and Frip had disappeared. I gave the coffin a rattle for luck and replaced it in my bag. I hadn't finished with it yet – or Boner.
On second thoughts I took it out again and poured in half a glass of someone's sticky liqueur. With any luck he had just lain down on the bed.
On third thoughts I stuck an ice cube between the effigy's legs. That was enough thoughts for now.
"Behave yourself, Harry Neptune. Get back to detecting. Why Larry?"
"Now why should a female person be addressed by the name of a male person? Confusion engendered by the cross-dressing theme of the evening perhaps? No, none of the disguises are that good."
I puffed the imaginary pipe again.
"Larry is actually a girl's name in the Deep South or the Bronx or wherever la Swat really hails from? Not in my experience."
I made pipe-sucking noises to aid cerebration. Jay rolled her eyes.
"So once again we must eliminate the impossible to leave…"
"Swat's a guy. Or was a guy."
Miss Lawrence folded her arms with an air of finality.
"I think you may have hit the nail on the head. For sixty-four dollars – drum roll – who did the snipping and enhancing? Take your time…"
Jay screwed her visage up into an expression of pained introspection.
"Stop it, your face will stick like that."
An expression of amazed enlightenment spread across her features.
"Surely not – not Dr. Dunnett, scion of the floating medical profession. Oh, surely not!"
I blew a smoke ring.
"The very same. And quit hamming. You make Roger Moore look like Laurence Olivier."
Miss Lawrence tipped a glass of half melted ice down my cleavage. It felt rather refreshing.
"A snip here, a tuck there, and Bob's your auntie."
"Not forgetting the boob job. That must be what really set her – him – whatever – off. Sloppy silicon sliding suddenly southward."
I drained my Hermaphrodite in satisfaction. One part of the mystery was solved. Or was it? Was it part of the mystery at all? We had set out to discover who murdered Raoul, not that Dr. D was the knife behind disposing of Swat's excess wedding tackle and botching her chest job.
Jay read my thoughts.
"Perhaps there is a connection? There's plenty of scope for digging a motive out of this lot somewhere. We ain't finished yet."
"We ain't indeed, my dear Mrs. Neptune. A three pipe problem, methinks."
I tapped my pipe out and rose to my feet. The ballroom had emptied as we cogitated.
"Come, my love."
"Yes, please!!!"
Miss Lawrence took my arm and looked up eagerly. I steered a circuitous path toward the door, emptying glasses of the more interesting looking liquids as we wended our way.
My dress flowed in the breeze on the open deck. Mr(s) Neptune took my hand solicitously and smoothed her mustache.
Harry Neptune's musical recital would have to wait for another day. Quel dommage.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MISSION IMPOSSIBLE
The tour guide was both Colombian and attractive, a wiry looking woman who wore heavy rimmed glasses and had an endearing habit of smiling at you over the top of them. Sensing a kindred spirit and a potential conquest, I decided to brush up my Spanish. Harry groaned as we began to climb the steep track that led from the beach into a dense forest of verdant green.
"Co'mo esta's tu, sweetie?"
My husband winced.
"Oh, very clever, I'm sure. It's my rotulas, if you must know. I might have to eschew this cultural interlude for a few cold ones on the beach."
I gave my partner a very hard stare.
"Your rotulas, eh? That's a new one. Got your ojo on someone, have we?"
Harry raised his eyes to the sky and shook his head disapprovingly.
"I don't know, Mrs. Neptune. Anyone would think you didn't trust me. My kneecaps are giving me serious gyp. It's the heat and the lie of the land. I think I'll really have to sit this one out. I'm sure you'll survive without me."
Clara, the tour guide, looked amused.
"It's not the heat, it's the humidity."
I blew Harry a kiss and turned to watch him limp off down the track. He'd most likely be heavily medicated by my return, the old reprobate. There was a large shelter on the beach, artfully crafted from coconut palms, where a barbecue was planned for the latter part of the day. Various less adventurous souls had passed on the hike to the ruined mission, in favor of lounging in the silvery sand. They might have a point. It was getting very hot.
"What a stunning view!"
The old road emerged from the lush vegetation and there was a sudden and magnificent vista of the turquoise bay below. The Caribbean Conch looked like a toy ship anchored in the distance. White clouds scudded across a bright blue sky and a fresh breeze cooled my burning face. I took a long, deep drink from my water bottle, deliciously aware of Clara's eyes upon my swallowing throat. She had my numero, all right. The party toiled onwards and upwards, and I lagged behind a little to admire our leader's pert behind. The Boner-Drippits were present, naturally, although, no doubt, more for reasons of exertion than cultural interest. Will sported a pith helmet and Frippery a straw sun-hat as big as a sombrero. I wondered whether they had discovered that their closet black magic had taken a hike. Apparently, Inspector Parrott had Ms. Larry Swat under house arrest and it also seemed that Dr. Dunnett was lying low. Well, who could blame him? The chap was as popular as defective ventilation at a chili-eating convention. Gigi Goldfinkel had decided to opt for a relaxing day on the beach and was last seen wearing a neon pink swimsuit and trying to inveigle a handsome young man to play volleyball. The woman seemed indefatigable.