Wallis shrugged. “Yeah, I mean something like that.”
Blum said, “My youngest daughter is a lesbian. I didn’t know until she came out at twenty-two. Maybe I should have looked for more flamboyance in her.”
Back in the car Pine said, “It’s nearly six o’clock. We can head over to this club and maybe talk to some of the folks there before it gets too busy. You good with that?” she added, glancing at Wallis.
“I guess.”
“Problem?”
“No, no problem.”
“The world is big enough for lots of different people,” Pine pointed out.
“Hell, I know that. And I’ve seen my share of, well, different. It’s just all this LGB, whatever that acronym is, it gets confusing.”
“LGBTQ,” said Blum. “With more letters to come, if they want them.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. How’s a person to keep all that straight?”
“But you don’t have to,” said Blum. “The people who identify with those groups do. And I think they have no problem with realizing who they are.”
When Wallis looked puzzled she added, “Just think of it this way: You’re clearly an MH.”
“I’m a what?” said a confused Wallis.
Pine said, “Male heterosexual. Think you’d ever forget that?”
Wallis exclaimed, “It’s who I am. How can I forget that?”
“Well, then, you must see Carol’s point.”
Wallis blinked and then nodded. “Yeah…Well, I guess I do, now that you mention it.”
“So, Silver Shell, here we come,” said Blum.
* * *
It was a twenty-minute ride from the apartment building to the Silver Shell, which was a two-story brick building on the corner of an area that might generously be considered “in transition.”
“Well, I can see why they call it that,” said Blum as she looked out the window.
The place had a wall mural out front of an enormous silver clam shell.
“I wonder what the symbolism for that is?” asked Wallis nervously.
“Maybe the owner just likes clams,” replied Pine.
They knocked on the side door, and a man dressed in work overalls opened it. Clarence Spotter had phoned ahead, and they were expected. The same man escorted them to a row of dressing rooms and stopped at the one with the title MANAGER stenciled on it. He knocked and received a verbal okay to enter.
He opened the door and the four of them crowded into the small room. The workman closed the door, and Pine could hear his footsteps going back down the corridor.
The room had a couple of chairs and a battered settee upholstered in a zebra pattern. The walls were painted eggplant; the ceiling was dominated by a chandelier that seemed to have about a million pieces of cut crystal. Against the far wall was a dressing table and an attached mirror with large bulbs surrounding the glass perimeter.
The person sitting there had their back to them and was wearing a long red dressing gown with what looked to be faux fur around the neck and cuffs.
They gathered in the middle of the room, and Wallis cleared his throat. “I guess you know why we’re here,” he said.
Pine noted that the person’s broad shoulders trembled a bit.
Then the person spun around in the chair and faced them.
He was in his forties, with sharply angular features and a mound of blond hair that was being managed with a barrage of hair clips so it would lie flat to his head. He was, Pine gauged, about six-two and a slim 160 pounds, though his build was athletic. He had apparently started to apply his makeup because the cheeks held foundation, and the lips were a bright shade of orange. The eyebrows had been plucked and shaped, and the eyes under them were a startling blue.
“Layne,” said the man.
“Layne Gillespie. We understand that he worked here, Mr.…?”
The man nodded. “I’m sorry, my name is Ted Blakely. I’m the owner here. I’m…” He put a hand to his face and started to sob into it.
Blum grabbed some tissues from a box on the dressing table and handed them to Blakely.
He thanked her with a nod and wiped his eyes dry. When he looked up, there were rivulets through the makeup on his cheeks caused by the tears he had shed.
“I’m sorry, this…this is all rather overwhelming.”
Wallis said quietly, “I’m sure this is a shock, um, Mr. Blakely. If you want to delay this interview?”
“No, no. I’ll do anything to help you catch whoever, whatever monster did this.” Blakely blew his nose, tossed the tissues into a wastebasket, and looked up at them. “Can you tell