Miss Dixieland Ch 07

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

********* Chapter 7: The Donor's Party **********

"The number you gave us came back unlisted." The chief of police, Arnold Payne, shut the door behind Delta as she entered his office. Bright morning sunshine was seeping in from the opened slats on the window.

"Burner phone?"

"Most likely. It's difficult, but not impossible to see who might have purchased it. The gas station on the county line sells them. If the phone came from there, one of the attendants might remember selling it to one of your suspects. They're all fairly recognizable, after all." He leaned back in his chair and opened a file folder, picking up a pen. "And speaking of your suspects, any updates on the investigation?

"As a matter of fact, yes. I have a good reason to believe that they're going to be making a big shipment the night of the pageant."

"Where?" The chief scratched out some notes on his paper.

"At the pageant itself. I don't know the details, but I'm sure that's where it is happening." She told him how she had overheard Floyd's phone conversation.

Chief Payne made a thoughtful sound and pulled at the gray hairs above his temples. "If they're planning to distribute the drugs like that, all at once, we could catch a lot of their runners. But..." he tapped his pen, "do you know who the distributor is? Or even better, the supplier?"

"I have some ideas, but nothing solid yet. At least one of judges has to be involved, but I'm not sure at what level."

"Who are we looking at?"

"Well Mike Dunn, for one." Delta shifted in her seat and frowned. "But I don't have any proof yet."

"You think he's the mastermind?"

"Could be. He seems to have a mind for business."

"So does Nick Carrillo."

"No, I don't think Nick's involved. He said something to me about it. I don't think he likes all the girls doing Red Cherry. He said it would look bad for his business if he was associated with that."

"It would be," Chief Payne agreed. He flipped through the file. "What about this Phil Detmar character?"

Delta snorted. "Phil... I can hardly imagine him masterminding anything. He's clean. He's too stupid not to be." The chief gave her a reprimanding look. "Sorry," she said. "It's just... it's hard to explain, but I don't think Phil is our guy."

"And the other judges? Malcolm and Cassandra Fox?"

"They're both hard to read. I don't have anything for you on either of them yet. But I'm working on it," she promised.

"Are any of the contestants involved?"

"Well, they're all taking the drug, that's for sure. And they're getting it from somewhere, but no one trusts me enough to tell me where yet."

"I trust you'll find the source."

"I'll do my best, sir."

Chief Payne nodded. "Good work finding out about the pickup date," he said. "I'll make sure we have a plainclothes detail attending the pageant to assist you in finding the suppliers and in case there is any trouble. You're dismissed." He set his pen down as Delta rose from her chair and headed to the door. "Oh and send Detective Stanford in, would you Robbins?"

She grimaced, but nodded. Luckily her back was turned to the chief. She shut the door on the way out and made her way to Stanford, who was scowling at his computer screen. He looked up when Delta approached. "Hi, Robbins. Miss me already?"

She jerked her head towards the chief's office. "He wants you."

"Must be because I'm close to solving the arson case."

She glanced at him. The blue collar of his shirt was a little wrinkled and there was a noticeable darkness under his eyes. "Doesn't look like you're close to solving anything. Looks like you've been losing sleep over it." She felt her lips twist into a smirk. There was something inside of her that couldn't resist teasing Stanford.

He pushed himself up out of his chair, suddenly taller than her. She had to tilt her chin up to look him in the eye. "Maybe I lost sleep because I was up all night with someone special."

She made a derisive sound. "And who would that be? Your hand?"

"Fuck you, Robbins." He shoulder checked her as he passed by. She stumbled grabbed the sharp edge of the desk for balance. The wood cut into her hand and it stung. She stared at the bright red mark across her palm. Was it possible that Stanford was seeing someone? Not that it mattered to her. Delta did whatever she wanted and whoever she wanted. Stanford's love life was none of her concern. Unless it prevented him from holding up his side of their agreement. Now that would be something to be angry about.

She made a fist against her stinging palm and returned to her desk, eager to get back to pageant activities. She should text Sasha to see what she was wearing to the party tonight that was listed on her official calendar of Miss Dixieland events. It had been a few days since they had last chatted and she found that she was starting to miss Sasha, who was straightforward and cutely mischievous, especially compared to Stanford, who had no sense of humor whatsoever.

***

The house was breathtaking, beautiful in a sleek, modern way. It was one of those houses that looked like a set of glass boxes stacked on top of each other. It was not the type of architecture that one saw frequently in Bafford county. It had to be new. And expensive. "Jesus," Delta said. "Who owns this place?"

Sasha glanced up from her phone and looked at the house perched on the hill. Delta had agreed to give her a ride tonight after texting with her earlier. "This is Sandy and Malcolm's place."

"Sandy?"

"Cassandra."

"You call her by a nickname now?"

Sasha laughed and reached over, sliding a warm hand over Delta's exposed shoulder. "Don't be jealous."

"I just didn't know you were that close." Delta pulled her car alongside the line of other cars on the lawn. "Lifestyle blogging must be lucrative."

"It's Malcolm's place, too. He's a reporter, you know."

On local access television, not CNN. "Right. But don't you think you and Cassandra are a little close? Won't that affect her abilities as a judge?"

Sasha looked down at her phone again. "She's a professional, Delta. This pageant is her life. It's how she built her brand. Are we seriously having this conversation?" She unbuckled and hopped out of the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Delta sighed as she undid her own buckle. She felt like she was getting off on the wrong foot with Sasha's tonight. They hadn't talked much on the way over and she was still tense from her last conversation with Stanford. She could feel it in her shoulders though she shouldn't let him affect her like that. She caught up to Sasha and slid her hand around her waist as they walked towards the house. She was wearing a form-fitting black halter dress, with a large gold beaded necklace and long gold earrings. Her eyes were smoked with kohl. "You look beautiful tonight, by the way."

Sasha smiled and wrapped her arm around Delta's waist. "You too." She kissed her on the cheek, her lips lingering just a second longer than was strictly friendly against Delta's skin. "Hey, why don't we try to get some time alone together tonight. We keep being interrupted."

Delta thought back to the carwash, of Sasha's lips on her body. "That sounds perfect," she smiled. She still couldn't identify what it was about Sasha that was so magnetically attractive.

There was loud music playing in the house. A lot of the guests had already arrived, the contestants mixing through the crowd in their short, tight dresses. Delta left Sasha talking to her friends Tabitha, Allison, and Bree in the kitchen and walked through the main floor of the house. Besides the contestants, there weren't many people she recognized. A lot of them were very good looking. Maybe they were coworkers of Malcolm's from the station or Cassandra's modeling friends. She also knew that there were supposed to be supporters of the pageant at the party- investors, donors.

The men and women chatted over the music, sipping champagne or cocktails in glasses that glinted in the low lighting. The shadows were thick and lush around the scene. Delta ran her hands over a leather couch and admired the modern brass chandelier, set on what was probably its dimmest setting.

She noticed Cassandra, blonde hair piled high on her head leaning in closely to someone on the couch. Her low cut silver gown gave off an excellent view of her cleavage. Delta noticed her companion with a surprise. Nick Carrillo. They seemed to be having a very intense conversation. Delta was surprised. She hadn't thought that Cassandra would have been Nick's type.

Cassandra's pale hand was on Nick's arm, in an entreating pose. The silver sequins of her dress shone on her fash. She looked washed out in the light. Like a ghost. Nick was as handsome as ever, in a deep red shirt the color of rich wine. He seemed to sense Delta looking at him and looked up. The corners of his eyes seemed to smile, but she could tell that he was being monopolized by Cassandra.

She moved on from the living room and saw Mike Dunn in the living room. A beer was in his hand and he was already red in the face, talking to two lovely women, who were standing in very close to him, as if hooked on his every word. He had one arm draped possessively around the shoulders of one of them. They were both blonde and tall, and generically, blandly pretty in the same way that Cassandra was. It wasn't a look Delta was attracted to, but Mike clearly was. Isn't he married? she thought, but she moved on, through the sliding glass doors in the dining room and out onto the lawn, lit with overhead with strands of party lights.

The lawn was sloped and she followed it downwards towards the river where a group of people was talking on a small dock. It was no one she recognized. One of the men greeted her and offered her a drink, but Delta waved him off, heading back into the main house. She checked off her list of suspects in her head. Mike, Nick, Cassandra. But what about Phil and Malcolm? She got caught up in a conversation with one of the other contestants, who complimented her on her dress and wanted to know Delta's opinion on who she thought would win the competition. She was not put off by Delta's terse replies, and was happy to fill the air with her own drunken chatter.

When Delta was finally able to get away from her, it took her a few minutes to find Sasha again. She and her group of girls had moved from the kitchen out to the deck where the music was the loudest. Delta waved at her from across the lawn and Sasha herded her group of friends through the thickening crowds of people to Delta.

"You're just in time!" she said.

"In time for what?"

Sasha opened her hand. She was holding a few red pills. "We were just about to take these. It's a big night! One of our last chances to make sure we impress the judges!" The other girls cheered at these words and plucked their allotment of pills from Sasha's delicate hand. Delta took one reluctantly. "Let's go to the bathroom," Sasha said. "Don't want the whole world to see."

Why not? Delta thought. The whole world seems to be doing them. She had already noticed the silver wrappers on the floors, the dilated pupils, the men and women leaning in close to one another, bodies drawn together as if by some sort of gravity.

The line of girls giggled their way to the bathroom, a room of clean stainless steel lines and tiled Carrara marble. Tabitha shut the door and locked it behind them as they all pressed in together. "One, two, three!" Sasha yelled. Her voice was loud, even against the thrum of the music against the door. They all shrieked and giggled and popped their pills into their lipsticked mouths. Their mouths and eyes seemed too bright in the clinical light of the bathroom.

"Now some shots!" Allison said. She grabbed the door handle and led the way to the kitchen, where the bottles of alcohol were piling up on the dark counters. Delta discreetly managed to drop her pill into the sink while grabbing some shot glasses. Sasha sloshed something into them and the girls threw them back like water and asked for a second set. It was going to be a wild night. Sasha grabbed her around the waist, and they danced together, oblivious to the rest of the world.

It was not for another half hour that Delta found Phil. He was sitting alone on the steps that led upstairs. His face lit up when he saw Delta, so she walked over to him, perching on a stair. "What's up, Phil?"

He gestured out at the room before him, dimly lit, the music covering the sounds of a few couples making out. "Oh just looking at all the couples."

"Lonely?"

Phil smiled his boyish smile at her. "Not anymore." He reached his arm around her and leaned in. "You know, we could do whatever we wanted here. Everyone is on Red Cherry. They won't even remember." She could smell the alcohol on him. He was already drunk.

"Are you on Red Cherry?"

He blinked. "What would I need that for?"

She crooked her neck back and smiled. "You know, Phil, I really do like you. But I think that maybe there is someone else you would rather be spending time with."

He shrugged. The motion was sloppy and the beer in his hand sloshed a tiny bit out on the floor.

"Where's your secretary, Sarah? Is she here tonight?"

Phil smiled down at his phone. "She said she would be here later."

"Right. Well, let me give you a tip. When Sarah gets here, you don't want her to see you talking to me, of all people. Ask her to dance. Ask her out even. I think you like her. And I think she likes you, too."

Phil glanced over and pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. But it's nice to see two people who are genuinely interested in each other."

"Yeah... this pageant stuff, everyone told me I should do it. They said I would meet beautiful women and sleep with them and it would be so glamorous and everything. And don't get me wrong, you... you wow, you're just amazing, but it's all so... seedy, you know? All this partying and sleeping around. None of these people care about each other at all, do they? It's like they're playing some kind of game and I don't know the rules."

Delta leaned forwards. "Yeah, I think you're right."

"Hey, Delta? Did you just have sex with me to get into the pageant? Would you have done that with anyone?"

Delta bit her lip. "No. I mean, I did want to get into the pageant. But you were cute and I thought, why not? You seemed like a nice guy. You're good looking."

"So you used me?"

'Yeah. I guess I did."

Phil sighed and leaned closer kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

Delta winced inwardly. Except the truth about investigating you for running a drug ring. "You're welcome."

His phone suddenly lit up in his lap and he looked down at it. "Hey, it's Sarah! She's here." He put the phone in his pocket and pushed his hair off his forehead. " I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna ask her out."

Delta rose with him and steadied him by his elbow as he teetered on the stairs. "I'm glad."

He grinned at her and then frowned. "You're not nearly drunk enough," he said. "Go enjoy the party!"

Delta watched him pick his way out of the room and disappear through a doorway. She really hoped he didn't get incriminated in the investigation. She felt oddly protective of him. But she had to do her job. She had to get the drug off the streets and she had to prove her worth to Stanford.

Thinking of him made her hand sting again and she clutched it in a tight fist as she walked upstairs to explore the second floor of the house. In the darkness of the upper landing, a couple was making out. Delta saw a woman's leg wrapped around the waist of a man in dark pants. His hand was rising on her thigh, up under her red skirt. She ignored them and walked down the hall, trying the first doorknob.

It was a bedroom, but her eyes went wide with what she saw. A mass of naked bodies mingled together in the room, two men and two women covered in sweat, gyrating together. She shut the door after making awkward eye contact with a man she didn't know. He was on the floor, sliding in and out of another contestant whose name Delta had forgotten. They were going at it doggy style. It was hard to be the only reasonably sober person at this party.

The next room was empty. It looked to be a library, or Malcolm's private study. Bookshelves lined the walls. A leather couch sat against one side with a floor lamp beside it. A computer on the desk cast blue light onto the window behind it. Delta shut the door softly behind her and walked over. She touched the mouse lightly. The screen saver dissolved revealing the desktop. A file was already open, though it had no title. She glanced at it. It was a plain word document. A list of numbers formed a column down the left margin. 397. 409. 212. The list was ten numbers long and ended with 969, which seemed familiar to her, though she didn't know she didn't know why. The numbers seemed to be in no particular order.

The hairs on the back of her arm suddenly prickled and she dropped the mouse and scurried back around to the front of the desk. The doorknob turned. Delta assumed an innocent position by a stack of objects on a shelf. She leaned in just as the door opened.

"Delta? What are you doing in here?" Sasha looked over her shoulder and then shut the door behind her.

"Waiting for you."

Sasha looked beside Delta at the objects on the shelf. "Don't touch those."

"Why not?"

Sasha came up close in front of her. "Those are the raffle prizes. Don't want Malcolm to wander in here and think you're stealing or something."

Delta snorted. "I haven't seen Malcolm all night, have you? I don't even believe he lives here." Delta reached her fingers out to touch the cool porcelain of some antique looking vase.

"Who cares about Malcolm anyways?" Sasha extended her hand towards Delta, fingertips brushing like silk against Delta's hand. She traced her hand upwards, over Delta's forearms and biceps, up her shoulders and to her cheek. Delta laid her hand over Sasha's. "You really do look amazing tonight," Sasha said, pulling Delta into an embrace.

Delta felt her muscles unclenching as Sasha's arms slipped around her. She breathed in the scent of her perfume, the warmth of honey and amber mixing on her flushed skin. Sasha's lips brushed against hers and Delta opened her mouth slightly, sliding her tongue along Sasha's soft lower lip. Sasha reciprocated, deepening the kiss. She tasted like lime and vodka. Delta could feel the warmth of her body through the fabric of their clothes, mixing in with her own, making the blood rush to the surface of her skin. It suddenly seemed to hot in the air-conditioned room.

She reached her arms around Sasha's shoulders, brushing them against the soft hairs of her neck. There was a hard knot of fabric under her fingers- the knot that held up Sasha's halter. Delta undid it, sliding the ribbons open from the bow. She brushed the cloth away and the triangles of fabric slipped from Sasha's shoulders to reveal the perfect forms of her naked breasts, the soft fullness of them exaggerated by the lamplight. Her dark nipples were pooled in shadows.

Delta pulled at the waist of the dress, sliding it down off of Sasha's hips. Her fingers skimmed past the waistband of Sasha's panties, a strip of bright pink lace over black bikini bottoms. Sasha stepped out of the dress, and put her hands on Delta's waist, kissing her over and over, running her hands into Delta's hair, massaging her scalp, and neck and shoulders. She found the tip of Delta's zipper and slid it downwards.

Delta shrugged off her dress and Sasha helped her remove it. They paused, looking at each other, suddenly uncertain. Delta's heart was beating heavily in her chest, and her breathing was too fast as she looked at Sasha. Sasha smiled slightly and grabbed Delta's hands, pulling her to the couch. She grabbed Delta's head in her hands, kissing her passionately.