mixed up in this kind of thing.”
“Here’s the kicker—Tootsie asked me to investigate.”
When Cami didn’t say anything, Harley waited a moment to allow the shock to sink in. Sam had curled up in her lap for a nap, and she stroked his soft fur with one hand. His body vibrated in a loud purr.
Just as the silence on the other end of the line stretched a little bit too long, Cami asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yep. Shocked me, too. I didn’t know he had so much faith in me.”
Cami wasn’t as pleased as she’d expected. Instead, she sounded horrified. “You do realize he was probably just being sarcastic?”
“No, not at all. He was dead serious. Ha! I made a pun. Anyway, he said he’d cover any time I missed and still pay me, as long as I keep things as quiet as possible and find out who’s killing people on our tour buses.”
“Harley, Bobby is going to freak out when he finds out you’re involved. You know that.”
“You’re not going to tell him, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then he’s not likely to find out. I’m going to be very low-key. And since Morgan isn’t around to rat me out, it ought to be a lot easier.”
“It won’t work. You know it won’t work. Something’s going to happen, you’ll end up in big trouble, and Bobby will have to arrest you. So don’t do it.”
“Take a deep breath and have some faith, Cami. Everything’ll be just fine. Tootsie says I have a knack for this.”
“A knack for murder? There are nicer things to have, Harley. Like typhoid.”
“Unbeliever.”
After they hung up, Harley reflected on the two murders. They had to be related, but it had occurred to her that they had two slight differences. One Elvis had been killed by an unknown Elvis in a bus full of Elvises, while the other Elvis had been killed by an Elvis he knew. If it was the same killer, he—or maybe even she—adapted to the situation. But why pick on Elvis impersonators? There had to be a common thread. Had the two dead Elvises known each other? Were they all in the same competition? Business together? Neighbors? There could be any number of motives, but none of them jumped out at her. Since she had to start somewhere, it made sense to find the connection between murderer and victims and go from there. To do that, she had to start with the victims’ connection to each other and work backward.
Fortunately, she had experience in working backward.
Tootsie was quite willing to do his computer magic and use his police connections to find out what he could about the victims. The first Elvis’s real name was Derek Wade and he worked at the local Kellogg’s plant in his other life. The second dead Elvis was a thirty-six year old man named Leroy Jenkins. One lived in Midtown, the other lived in North Memphis, and neither of them had any known connection to the other except that they were both contestants in the Elvis competitions.
“Maybe if I talk to their families, I could find out if they knew one another,” Harley said the next morning, and Tootsie nodded. He looked a little haggard, with bluish bruises under his eyes and a frown line between his brows.
“Sounds good to me.”
“I’ll need some kind of official sounding reason, though. You know, without being too obvious.”
“You’re a Memphis Tour Tyme employee. You’re there to offer condolences and ask if there’s anything we can do. Of course, our insurance adjusters will handle any claims that may arise, so don’t get sucked into discussing that. Especially admitting fault in any way. We have to be very careful about that, and let the lawyers and adjusters handle that kind of thing.” Tootsie paused, and then said, “I’ll print you out a few business cards with our logo and phone numbers so they’ll feel more comfortable about allowing you to ask questions.”
“Good. I ran out of mine. Put my cell number on them,
“Here’s the kicker—Tootsie asked me to investigate.”
When Cami didn’t say anything, Harley waited a moment to allow the shock to sink in. Sam had curled up in her lap for a nap, and she stroked his soft fur with one hand. His body vibrated in a loud purr.
Just as the silence on the other end of the line stretched a little bit too long, Cami asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yep. Shocked me, too. I didn’t know he had so much faith in me.”
Cami wasn’t as pleased as she’d expected. Instead, she sounded horrified. “You do realize he was probably just being sarcastic?”
“No, not at all. He was dead serious. Ha! I made a pun. Anyway, he said he’d cover any time I missed and still pay me, as long as I keep things as quiet as possible and find out who’s killing people on our tour buses.”
“Harley, Bobby is going to freak out when he finds out you’re involved. You know that.”
“You’re not going to tell him, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then he’s not likely to find out. I’m going to be very low-key. And since Morgan isn’t around to rat me out, it ought to be a lot easier.”
“It won’t work. You know it won’t work. Something’s going to happen, you’ll end up in big trouble, and Bobby will have to arrest you. So don’t do it.”
“Take a deep breath and have some faith, Cami. Everything’ll be just fine. Tootsie says I have a knack for this.”
“A knack for murder? There are nicer things to have, Harley. Like typhoid.”
“Unbeliever.”
After they hung up, Harley reflected on the two murders. They had to be related, but it had occurred to her that they had two slight differences. One Elvis had been killed by an unknown Elvis in a bus full of Elvises, while the other Elvis had been killed by an Elvis he knew. If it was the same killer, he—or maybe even she—adapted to the situation. But why pick on Elvis impersonators? There had to be a common thread. Had the two dead Elvises known each other? Were they all in the same competition? Business together? Neighbors? There could be any number of motives, but none of them jumped out at her. Since she had to start somewhere, it made sense to find the connection between murderer and victims and go from there. To do that, she had to start with the victims’ connection to each other and work backward.
Fortunately, she had experience in working backward.
Tootsie was quite willing to do his computer magic and use his police connections to find out what he could about the victims. The first Elvis’s real name was Derek Wade and he worked at the local Kellogg’s plant in his other life. The second dead Elvis was a thirty-six year old man named Leroy Jenkins. One lived in Midtown, the other lived in North Memphis, and neither of them had any known connection to the other except that they were both contestants in the Elvis competitions.
“Maybe if I talk to their families, I could find out if they knew one another,” Harley said the next morning, and Tootsie nodded. He looked a little haggard, with bluish bruises under his eyes and a frown line between his brows.
“Sounds good to me.”
“I’ll need some kind of official sounding reason, though. You know, without being too obvious.”
“You’re a Memphis Tour Tyme employee. You’re there to offer condolences and ask if there’s anything we can do. Of course, our insurance adjusters will handle any claims that may arise, so don’t get sucked into discussing that. Especially admitting fault in any way. We have to be very careful about that, and let the lawyers and adjusters handle that kind of thing.” Tootsie paused, and then said, “I’ll print you out a few business cards with our logo and phone numbers so they’ll feel more comfortable about allowing you to ask questions.”
“Good. I ran out of mine. Put my cell number on them,
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