but she’s not in the picture anymore.”
“I have to know,” Claude said, through clenched teeth.
For the first time, I wondered what the twins would do if I couldn’t discover the culprit. And that scary thought spurred my brain to greater activity.
“Claudine,” I called. Claudine came in, with an apple in her hand. She was hungry, and she looked tired. I wasn’t surprised. Presumably, she’d worked all day, and here she was, staying up all night, and grieving, to boot.
“Can you wheel Rita in here?” I asked. “Claude, can you go get Barry?”
When everyone was assembled in the kitchen, I said, “Everything I’ve seen and heard seems to indicate that Claudette vanished during the second show.” After a second’s consideration, they all nodded. Barry’s and Rita’s mouths had been gagged again, and I thought that was a good thing.
“During the first show,” I said, going slow to be sure I got it right, “Claudette took up the money. Claude was onstage. Barry was onstage. Even when he wasn’t onstage, he didn’t come up to the booth. Rita was in her office.”
There were nods all around.
“During the interval between shows, the club cleared out.”
“Yeah,” Jeff said. “Barry came up to meet his clients, and I checked to make sure everyone else was gone.”
“So you were away from the booth a little.”
“Oh, well, yeah, I guess. I do it so often, I didn’t even think of that.”
“And also during the interval, Rita came up to get the money pouch from Claudette.”
Rita nodded emphatically.
“So, at the end of the interval, Barry’s clients have left.” Barry nodded. “Claude, what about you?”
“I went out to get some food during the interval,” he said. “I can’t eat a lot before I dance, but I had to eat something. I got back, and Barry was by himself and getting ready for the second show. I got ready, too.”
“And I got back on the stool,” Jeff said. “Claudette was back at the cash window. She was all ready, with the cash drawer and the stamp and the pouch. She still wasn’t speaking to me.”
“But you’re sure it was Claudette?” I asked, out of the blue.
“Wasn’t Claudine, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “Claudine’s as sweet as Claudette was sour, and they even sit different.”
Claudine looked pleased and threw her apple core in the garbage can. She smiled at me, already forgiving me for asking questions about her.
The apple.
Claude, looking impatient, began to speak. I held up my hand. He stopped.
“I’m going to ask Claudine to take your gags off,” I said to Rita and Barry. “But I don’t want you to talk unless I ask you a question, okay?” They both nodded.
Claudine took the gags off, while Claude glared at me.
Thoughts were pounding through my head like a mental stampede.
“What did Rita do with the money pouch?”
“After the first show?” Jeff seemed puzzled. “Uh, I told you. She took it with her.”
Alarm bells were going off mentally. Now I knew I was on the right track.
“You said that when you saw Claudette waiting to take the money for the second show, she had everything ready.”
“Yeah. So? She had the hand stamp, she had the money drawer, and she had the pouch,” Jeff said.
“Right. She had to have a second pouch for the second show. Rita had taken the first pouch. So when Rita came to get the first show’s take, she had the second pouch in her hand, right?”
Jeff tried to remember. “Uh, I guess so.”
“What about it, Rita?” I asked. “Did you bring the second pouch?”
“No,” she said. “There were two in the booth at the beginning of the evening. I just took the one she’d used, then she had an empty one there for the take from the second show.”
“Barry, did you see Rita walking to the booth?”
The blond stripper thought frantically. I could feel every idea beating at the inside of my head.
“She had something in her hand,” he said finally. “I’m sure of it.”
“No,” Rita shrieked. “It was there already!”
“What’s so important about the pouch, anyway?” Jeff asked. “It’s just a vinyl pouch with a zipper like banks give you. How could that hurt Claudette?”
“What if the inside were rubbed with lemon juice?”
Both the fairies flinched, horror on their faces.
“Would that kill Claudette?” I asked them.
Claude said, “Oh, yes. She was especially susceptible. Even lemon scent made her vomit. She had a terrible time on washday until we found out the fabric sheets were lemon scented. Claudine has to go to the store since