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  “Certainly!” Georgia said, grinning hugely. “I’m glad I wore my lucky dress tonight.”

  In the elevator, on the way up to the fifty-eighth floor, Georgia wondered if they should stop by her room to fetch her guitar, in case any member of Noah’s team wanted to hear her sing. But she soon decided against the idea. After all, she wasn’t going to an audition. It might seem pushy if she showed up carrying a guitar, ready to perform.

  When they reached the door of Noah’s room, Georgia said, “Am I prepared to meet with your colleagues? Is there anything I should know?”

  He smiled and shrugged. “You’re fine, no problem!”

  “I just realized, I don’t know the name of your team’s production company,” Georgia said. “I don’t even know your last name.”

  “Vale.” He opened the door with his room card and walked inside. “Come on in.”

  “Thank you, Noah,” Georgia said with a smile as she entered the room.

  “Darn, I dropped my room card,” Noah said, closing the door. “Can you see it on the floor? It’s dark blue. Just like the carpet!”

  Georgia looked down. “I don’t see anything…. Oh, wait, I see it now. I’ll get it.”

  Resting her hand on a side table to steady herself, she bent over to pick up the card. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her rear.

  “Yow! What happened? I felt—” She looked toward Noah and realized, to her horror, that he was holding a hypodermic needle. A moment later, she passed out.

  Noah dragged the queen farther into the room. Earlier, the original occupant of the room, a salesman who traveled alone, also had been rendered unconscious by a shot. His body rested on the bed. Noah checked on his previous victim. The man was sleeping peacefully.

  Noah pulled Georgia by the legs into the bathroom, where he’d placed a stainless-steel container and a clear plastic box, which contained a bottle of liquid and some tools, also made of stainless steel.

  The next day, Georgia Peechy did not appear on the Breakfast In NYC morning show. She did, however, make headlines nationwide, and was featured on countless news shows and websites.

  It isn’t every day that a performer drops out of a skyscraper, falling more than fifty floors into busy traffic.

  Chapter 11

  In his office at HeadTurners, December checked the time on his laptop. He had a 3 p.m. appointment with a private investigator hired by Eryk Bravehart. The investigator was twelve minutes late … or rather, twelve minutes and counting. At 3:15, the HeadTurners receptionist, Caleb, let him know that the investigator had called to say he’d be late.

  The investigator arrived at HeadTurners at 3:47 p.m., and Caleb led him into December’s office. “My name’s Lyle Burns,” he said, handing the model a card. He was a fortyish, sandy-haired man with wire-rimmed glasses. “I’m the private investigator sent by Mr. Bravehart. Sorry I’m late. My meeting before this was with your colleague, Sinclair Lawrence, and it ran long.”

  December set the card on his desk. “That sounds like Sinthia. Sit down, tell me how I can help you.”

  “I’m investigating the recent deaths of individuals associated with Sinthia’s Cabaret. Mr. Bravehart wanted me to talk to you and Sinclair about these deaths. Like I said, I’ve already talked to Sinclair, who’ll be talking to the individual contestants. I want to stress that you should keep everything we discuss to yourself.”

  “I understand,” December said. “I’m curious, though – why did Eryk want you to talk to me in particular, if Sinthia is going to be talking to everybody else?”

  “Because you’re also associated with his other production, Stitched. So far, no one associated with that show seems to be in danger, but still, we want to touch base. I called Dr. Martin’s office and will be talking to him, too, in the near future, when his schedule permits. I understand he’s your life partner?”

  December nodded.

  “In that case,” Lyle said, “feel free to share information from this meeting with him. I’ll talk to him myself, but obviously, I’m not going to tell you to keep quiet with him.”

  “That makes sense,” December said. “I share everything with him anyway. I wanted to mention, I do know that Georgia Peechy died recently. It’s all over the news. I also know that Monica Delectable died at an event to help homeless people. Her boyfriend Doug called to tell me. He was totally torn up by it. He said she was doing charity events at his suggestion, so he feels responsible for what happened. Right now, that’s all we know. He didn’t say how she died.”

  “Nate Tucker was the victim of a particularly horrific crime,” Lyle said. “I notice you called Nate ‘she’ and ‘her.’ Wasn’t he actually a man?”

  “Yes, she was. I refer to drag queens as ‘she’ unless they tell me I should do otherwise. They go to great lengths to look, talk, and move like women. I respect that.”

  Lyle smiled. “It seems to be the house rule, so I’ll respect it, too. I’ll also remember it when I’m talking to Sinclair – or rather, Sinthia.”

  “So tell me,” December said. “What exactly happened to Monica?”

  “It’s pretty gruesome. I hope you’re not squeamish.”

  “I’m a grown-up. Go ahead.”

  “Somebody diced much of the meat on her body and dropped it into a vat of soup that was being cooked,” Lyle said. “This took place at a public event for the homeless. Her skin, bones and organs were discarded in the dumpster of a nearby community center. The soup was served to attendees.”

  “She was made into soup?” December stared in disbelief at Lyle. “Good Lord. How in the world could that have happened? You said it was at a public event!”

  “I talked to folks who were there, and some of the event organizers,” Lyle said. “Monica was indeed a scheduled guest. Her car was parked there, but no one saw her there. Whoever had diced the meat must’ve added it to the soup while the volunteers were taking a break. They were given two breaks that morning, and no one stayed behind to watch the vat.”

  “I still can’t believe that it happened,” December said. “Why would anyone do something so horrible?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Lyle said. “As far as you know, did Monica have any enemies? Was she being stalked by any past boyfriends?”

  December thought for a moment. “None that I know of. Everybody loved Monica. She was always very friendly and kind. She was devoted to her boyfriend Doug, and they’d been together for several years. She never mentioned any past boyfriends.”

  Lyle nodded. “I’m also looking into the death of Georgia Peechy. Same questions: Did Georgia have any enemies? Any stalkers?”

  “Again, another queen who was loved by everybody,” December said. “I heard about that, too. It couldn’t be helped. It was on the national news! She fell off a balcony on a skyscraper?”

  “Yes, from the fifty-eighth floor,” Lyle said. “Into traffic.”

  “Was it murder? Suicide? An accident?”

  “Most definitely murder,” Lyle said. “Safety barriers on the balcony were removed to throw the body off the building. Paint was scratched in the process of detaching and reattaching the barriers. And, there’s another murder. The media hasn’t picked up on it yet, and like I said earlier, you can’t go public with the information.”

  “Who is it?” December said. “I know it’s going to be a heart-breaker, whoever it is. I love everyone involved with the show.”

  “It’s Claudia Maresko,” the investigator said. “She was staying in a hotel and her body was found by a housekeeper in the bathtub. Most of her flesh was dissolved by a highly corrosive substance called hydrofluoric acid. Whoever dissolved her went to the trouble of mixing bubble bath with the acid.”

  “That’s even worse than what happened to Georgia!” December said, shocked. “Why Claudia? She was such a sweet lady! I don’t think she had any enemies. I will say this … she did sleep around. She hit on the straight cameramen and interns. But still, she was always nice to everyone.
She didn’t talk to me very much, but that’s understandable. I’m gay and I have a partner. She always had great tips for the performers, so they all liked her.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe she was seeing a married man. A jealous wife might have something to do with her death.”

  “That’s something to consider,” Lyle said. “Still, do jealous wives dissolve their rivals in acid? I’m thinking that the same person – or people – might be doing all this. I mean, three different people associated with the same TV show are killed within weeks of each other. And their deaths were over-the-top. Waaaay over-the-top.”

  “That’s the crazy aspect that baffles me,” December said. “Why would anyone go to so much trouble to kill another person?”

  “An excellent question. Right now, Mr. Bravehart and I are concerned about what will happen next. We want to make sure no one else is victimized.”

  “Do you think some anti-gay group might be to blame?”

  “That did occur to me,” the investigator said. “But if that was the case, wouldn’t they kill Sinthia first? Why would they kill Claudia? She wasn’t gay or a gay activist. She was on the show to offer advice, like you. With that in mind, if somebody thought it was necessary to kill Claudia … well then, you might be on the list, too.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” December said. “But you’re exactly right. My role on the show is similar to Claudia’s.”

  “If you’re threatened in any way, don’t hesitate to contact the police. Let me know, too – call me as soon as possible if you ever have any input to share.”

  “Thank you,” December said, glancing at Lyle’s business card on his desk. He picked it up and put it in his wallet. “I’m glad you’re doing your best to keep me alive.”

  “That’s my job,” Lyle said with a sympathetic smile. “Speaking of jobs, I’d better let you get back to work. I’ll keep you and Sinthia posted as I learn more about what’s happening.”

  With that, the two men shook hands and Lyle departed.

  Chapter 12

  Vandric Bell grew up as Dana Butts, so of course, he was teased about his name throughout his childhood in rural Kansas. His first name was also a girl’s name, and his last name was the target of countless sodomy jokes. He was healthy and fit, but skinny with delicate features, and that didn’t help matters. When his classmates eventually figured out he was gay, the jokes increased tenfold.

  In college, he decided to become a physical therapist. Along the way, he changed his name to Vandric Bell, which he felt sounded both masculine and sophisticated. Through his work, he met Arnold, a wealthy bank vice president with arthritis issues, who eventually became his boyfriend. Arnold was very generous with Vandric, and bought him two nose-jobs, a chin implant, and various other small procedures.

  Vandric found it difficult to develop a he-man body, so he talked with technicians about developing silicone implants to replicate the musculature he desired. Arnold was happy to approve and fund these efforts to enhance his affectionate and very grateful lover. Before long, Vandric led his technical team into creating exceptional bicep, calf, pectoral and buttock implants, designed specifically for his body. His efforts eventually came to the attention of the media, creating Vandric’s reputation as a human doll.

  In the fifth year of their relationship, Arnold died of a heart attack, leaving his fortune to Vandric. The human doll promptly hooked up with Kaiden, a young massage therapist with a lively interest in cosmetic surgery. Kaiden wanted to look feminine instead of masculine, since he eventually wanted to pursue a career as a drag performer. His surgical procedures included lip filler, cheek implants, liposuction, and a Brazilian butt-lift.

  In time, Vandric became a popular guest on health and lifestyle programs. He enjoyed being known as a human doll, and for a short time, the attention he received from the media made Kaiden also want to become one.

  “I’d love to become a female human doll,” Kaiden said to him once. “I’ve been thinking about it this whole week. I could get breast implants, a trachea shave, and a jaw reduction. And maybe get some ribs removed. Think how I’d look with a waist that slim!”

  “Do you want a sex change, too?” Vandric asked, concerned. “I hope not. We are gay men, you know. If I wanted a woman in my bed, I’d be dating one. Are you forgetting that you’re the top?”

  “Oh…. You have a point there. I like being a man when I climb into bed. I’d better keep things the way they are.”

  “If you become a drag queen, you can always take off the makeup and fake breasts when you get home. Within minutes, you’re a man again.” Vandric smiled. “Plus, I’m friends with Sinthia from Sinthia’s Cabaret. We’ve had lunch a couple times. I bet I can get you on the show, if you can decide on a talent to showcase. So if you want to develop something for the future, don’t get plastic surgery. Get some singing and dancing lessons.”

  Vandric was overjoyed when Mary Page, marketing director of the Metro Heaven hotel line, called and asked him to host a promotional video. These hotels specialized in providing both enjoyable family stays and entertaining trade shows. The founders of the line realized, quite correctly, that businesspeople would happily attend fun trade shows at luxurious venues on an annual basis. That way, they could combine their trade shows with family vacations.

  When Vandric asked Mary, in one of their many phone conversations, why they’d selected him as the host of the video, she said, “Because you’re the perfect man. We want to show the business community that Metro Heaven is the home of perfection. A perfect hotel with perfect accommodations for perfect guests. So much to love! Be sure to brag us up and talk about the video on your social media.”

  Mary and Vandric decided they would shoot the video at Metro Heaven’s St. Louis location. That location was hosting a restaurant equipment trade show, featuring plenty of cutting-edge technology. The entire video shoot would take three days, since demonstrations of different machines would need to be set up with representatives from their companies.

  “That location has a great tanning salon,” Mary said, “so if you want to get there a day or two before shooting begins to refresh your tan, just let me know. We’d love to say in the video that your tan came from Metro Heaven. If you get there early, the trade show will be doing set-up, so you can go in and take a look at the equipment, if you like.”

  Per Mary’s suggestion, Vandric posted extensively about the project on his social media. He opted to arrive at the hotel early, since he did need to perk up his tan. Kaiden wasn’t able to go with him because of his work schedule.

  Vandric was thoroughly impressed with Metro Heaven. Variety was everything there. The hotel featured five different eateries – a sushi bar, a steakhouse, a Greek restaurant, a deli, and a pizza joint. Metro Heaven also included a mini-galleria, with stores selling clothes, shoes, coffee, toys, and health foods.

  In his first afternoon at Metro Heaven, he decided to get started on his tanning booth sessions. In the salon, he spent only six minutes in the booth, since it had been a while since he’d worked on his tan. After he put his clothes back on, a smiling employee walked up to him.

  “Hello there!” the employee said in a husky voice. He was an older guy, so he had to be a manager. “How many minutes did you tan with us today?”

  “Just six minutes,” Vandric said. “It’s been months since my last session.”

  “We’re installing a new machine tomorrow. A high-tech tanning booth. I know you’re the hotel’s special guest this week. Would you like to be the first to try it out?”

  “Oh, sure! What time should I show up?”

  “We’re installing the booth before the salon opens at 9 a.m. Would 7:30 a.m. work for you? That way I can ask you some survey questions after your session. And after that, I can take you to breakfast, as your reward for helping us out.”

  “That sounds awesome, umm—” Vandric looked for the employee’s name tag, but he wasn’t wearing one. He wore a Metro Heaven polo shirt, but no tag.
r />   The employee noticed that Vandric was looking for the tag. He looked down as well. “Crap! My tag fell off again. It’s one of those lame magnetic tags. They fall off all the time. They need stronger magnets! My name’s Noah.”

  The next day, Vandric showed up at the tanning salon at 7:30 a.m. Noah was inside, fussing over the new machine. Vandric took off his clothes and put on one of the salon’s robes. He didn’t bother putting his clothes in a locker, since he was the only guest in the salon.

  The new booth was larger than the other machines, but it didn’t fit well in the space allotted for it. “We’re going to have to remodel around it,” Noah said, “but that’s nothing you have to worry about. Now hop in and I’ll set it for seven minutes.” So saying, he opened the lid.

  Once Vandric stepped inside, Noah closed the lid immediately.

  The light inside the booth was off and the floor was uneven. It didn’t seem to be designed for him to stand on it. It was like he was standing on part of the lid. The booth was also a tighter fit than he would’ve expected. He couldn’t stretch out his arms more than a few inches.

  “Noah?” he cried. “It’s dark in here. And there’s no room! Noah? Are you out there, Noah?”

  Suddenly, a loud hissing sound filled the chamber. Vandric suddenly detected an odd smell … a mild chemical odor that for some reason, reminded him of his surgical procedures.

  Then he passed out.

  Noah turned off the flow control valve on the anesthetic gas cylinder. He pulled the rubber tube out of a hole he’d drilled in the side of the booth earlier. He opened the lid and Vandric’s body slid down to the floor.

  Noah slipped on some latex gloves and went to work.

  When he was finished, he wrapped a silver chain around the booth and secured it with a padlock. The timer on the machine was now set for 30 minutes.

  Noah turned on the machine. He dropped the gloves, as well as Vandric’s clothes and shoes, into a trash bag. He carried out the debris, turning off the salon’s lights on the way out.