A Woman About Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book IV)

By the Prickling of My Thumbs

The Three Queens were nothing like their counterparts in the Scottish play, of course - but the Imogen was getting an impression that they were equally prone to causing 'double, double toil and trouble.'

The first one - a short voluptuous brunette in a red dress and opera gloves, named Marzie Pan - took a spot in one of the booths; and the second queen slid onto the sofa next to her. The latter's stage name was Solo Velour; and Imogen's photographic memory supplied her with a distinct memory of seeing Ms. Velour's real-life alter ego - a real estate agent Michael Okeke - on the county's bus stops, on those ads they plastered on benches and shacks. The third queen, Mistress Lumberjill, who led Imogen to the table, was about the Mayor's size - which would make sense since she'd mentioned having worked with Rhys Holyoake on a construction project. The bright green sequin top hugged her massive biceps.

"We were all here that night," Marzie started. "We were doing our usual show, but it was also a fancy party. Anyone could show up in drag."

"Free drink with a costume," Solo chimed in, batting her fake lashes and pressing her hand to her heaving bosom. "If you convince Mr. Mayor to give it a go, you both can drink on the house all night."

Imogen tried to imagine that, failed, and decided to think about it later.

"And the man, who got killed later, was here too," Marzie continued.

"Was he alone?" Imogen asked.

"No, he came with a friend," Lumberjill answered in a dark tone.

"Who knew poxy buggers like him had friends?" Marzie scoffed. "He was with another man. Short, sandy blond hair, with a lot of grey. Someone famous, I think. I'm not sure what for, though."

"John Barnett? A mystery writer?" Imogen asked.

"Yeah, him," Marzi confirmed. "I think that's what Joy said his name was. So, the two of them came together and immediately started drinking."

"A lot," Solo added in a pointed tone.

"Yeah, a lot. But also buying drinks for everyone too." Marzie pursed her lips. "After some time it was quite obvious whom they bought most of those drinks for. Well, it was mostly the bloke who was killed who did it."

"Hugo Staunton," Imogen said. "Who were they buying drinks for?"

"Young men, in drag and not, but there was a type, you know. Again, it was clearly the Staunton tosser who was doing it. His mate tried to sort of make him chill, but–"

"They got quite a few of them proper sloshed," Solo continued her colleague's account. "And he was smooth, you know. Not pushy, no groping. Not sleazy, you see. Just sort of jolly and generous."

"Maggot," Lumberjill spat out.

"And he was discreet, careful," Marzie said. "Honestly, we're used to keeping our eyes open. There are all sorts out there, especially when you're queer and a performer. Many blokes think that you must be easy, since you're shaking your tits on the stage."

"He was really charming," Solo added in a mournful tone and sighed. "That's why Frank lost his vigilance."

"Frank?" Imogen asked - and then her mind sorted through the bits and bobs of information pertaining to this investigation. "Frank Harris?"

"He's such a darling," Lumberjill exclaimed, and the other two queens enthusiastically agreed. Imogen detected sincere affection in their voices. "He sometimes works shifts here, as a waiter; and he does drag sometimes, as an apprentice. He's got the most gorgeous voice, and he's quite good at back singing. He might get an official offer soon. His legwork needs improving, though."