Chapter 7
Later that morning.
Carson’s Restaurant
“Elizabeth Burke?”Elaine asked the young woman behind the hostess stand. Patrick had picked them up and dropped them off here in the refurbished LTD before taking it to be detailed. He was, as Griff told her, a real stickler for a clean car, even if it wasn’t his.
“That’s me.” She pointed at her name tag pinned to her right shoulder and smiled. “How can I help you?”
“You sent this to Sister Bernie because you needed to talk to her.” Elaine handed her the copy of Carson’s menu sent to St. Nicholas. She and Griff had stopped by to pick it up.
Elizabeth’s skin paled and she gripped the edges of the stand, but defiance showed her eyes. “Who are you?”
“Elaine Prescott from Families United.” Elaine dug her work photo ID from her purse, showed it and pointed at Griff. “This is Lieutenant Griffin Tyler, USMC.” She offered no explanation for Griff’s presence, and when Elizabeth didn’t ask for one, Elaine added, “We need to speak to you about Sister Bernie, please. Why did you send her that menu?”
Elizabeth beckoned them to follow her and led them to a black linen-draped table in the back of the house. Around them servers in black trousers, knee length black aprons and long sleeve white blouses were rolling silver, filling water pitchers or checking the tables’ salt and pepper cellars.
When they were seated, Elizabeth said, “I recognize you now. I heard you speak at a fundraiser last year with Sister Bernie. You’re-you were her friend.”
“That’s right,” Elaine confirmed, doing a quick appraisal of the woman’s appearance. Almost as tall as she was and of much the same age. “Why did you send the menu?”
“I can’t believe she’s dead,” Elizabeth rasped. “I just saw her at the clinic last week.”
“Are you alright?” Elaine asked. “Health wise, I mean.” Elizabeth Burke looked like she needed several good, home-cooked meals but her auburn hair, make-up and nails were meticulous.
“I’m fine,” Elizabeth admitted. “Growing up, I didn’t always get enough to eat, so I grew up skinny. I love sweets, but Sister Bernie was always pushing for me to eat lots of vegetables and whole grains and stuff like that.”
“That sounds just like her,” Elaine agreed. “She took good care of you, didn’t she?”
Elizabeth’s green-eyed gaze flickered around the elegant room with its soft lighting and plush chairs before returning it to stare at them. “She got me out of Memphis years ago,” she confided, her voice barely audible. “I heard my old man threatened to put a price on her head if he could find her when I first got here.”
“You mean your pimp?” Griff’s question was equally soft, but respectful.
“Yeah,” Elizabeth said again. She cocked her head at him but spoke to Elaine. “Are you sure he’s on the up and up?”
“As right as right can be,” Elaine assured. “Can you please tell us why you needed to talk to Sister Bernie? Maybe we can help.”
Elizabeth considered a moment, then leaned forward. “I get a mani/pedi every other week at a place over on Central called Happy Endings,” she shared softly. “Sometimes I get a facial and massage. They want us to look good here.”
“A girl has to take care of herself,” Elaine declared, hoping this statement of female solidarity would let down Elizabeth’s guard. ”And Carson’s is a very high-end, high-class place.”
“I always feel better when I look good, you know?” There was no mistaking Elizabeth’s defensive tone. “I may not be in “the life” anymore but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try to look my best for myself, right?”
“And while you were taking care of yourself at the salon, you heard something, didn’t you?” Griff guessed. “Something you needed to tell Sister Bernie?”
Surprise raised her eyebrows and then she grinned, making her even prettier. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”
“I have sisters.” Griff’s answering grin invited confidences. “They told me you can hear all kinds of stuff at salons.”
“You’ve got that right,” Elizabeth agreed, opened her fisted hands. “Yeah, I heard something. There were these two strippers next to me, getting face-packs. I was too, and I had my eyes closed, so I guess they thought I was sleeping ‘cause I don’t think they’d want me hearing what they were saying about some guys bringing really young strippers to town to dance at Sapphire’s, their club sometime soon, like next weekend.”
“How do you know they were strippers?” Elaine asked, marveling at Griff’s skill to get Elizabeth to talk.
Elizabeth’s grin broadened and her shoulders relaxed. “‘Cause they were talking about how pissed they were at their manager for maybe thinking they were getting too old for the job when they were both only twenty-four and that they’d had their boobs and butts done last year, and they could still take it off and shake their moneymakers with the best of them.”
Griff grabbed a bottle of water from the interior pocket of his jacket, unscrewed the top and chugged several swallows as Elaine turned her rising laugh into a cough. Ex-Marine he might be, but when was the last time he had a conversation about strippers’ bodies?
“I didn’t know strippers-or do they call themselves exotic dancers-made that kind of money,” he gasped.
A scowl replaced Elizabeth’s smile. “Sapphire’s is not your typical strip joint,” she explained. “It calls itself a ‘gentlemen’s club’ and becoming a member will set you back four figures a year. It will cost you fifty bucks to get in if you’re not a member. House drinks start at ten dollars, but the bartenders will cut you off after four singles unless you can prove someone else is doing the driving because they don’t want any PI or DUI charges coming back to haunt them. But the girls are gorgeous and make a fortune in tips. I guess some of what they do could be called exotic dancing, if you like that kind of thing.”
“Any prostitution?” Elaine asked bluntly. No sense in mincing words. Not if underage girls were involved.
“I don’t know for sure,” Elizabeth admitted. “At I didn’t hear the girls mention it, but then again, who knows? There are other places in town with strippers that aren’t nearly as nice as Sapphire’s. And I’ve heard there’s some hooking going on there.”
“Sounds like you Knoxville well,” Griff commented. “How long have you lived here?”
“Almost five years.”
“Did those women say how young these girls are?” Elaine asked.
Elizabeth’s scowl deepened. “Some as young as fifteen.”
Thinking of Chelsea’s postcard, Elaine fought to keep her voice level. “Did they say where the girls were coming from?”
“I don’t think so,” Elizabeth admitted. “They were too busy bitching about their manager.” Her fingers strayed to play with a rolled napkin. “Do you think I might be able to see you for counseling?” she asked shyly. If you were Sister Bernie’s friend, then I think I could trust you.”
“You’ve not seen a counselor in all this time?” Elaine’s heart ached for her. “Absolutely.” She fished a business card out of her purse, wrote something on the back and handed it over. “When you call the number on the front, ask for Leanne. She keeps my schedule, and she can work you in sometime after Thanksgiving.”
“Thanks.” Elizabeth pocketed the card as Elaine’s phone beeped. She took it from her purse and reading the screen, her mouth went dry. Looking at Griff, she said. “Would you text Patrick, please? We need to go see Miller.”
She put the phone away and looked back at Elizabeth. “Thank you for telling us about this. Could you, would you let us know if you learn exactly when these girls will be arriving?”
For a second, fear glittered in Elizabeth’s eyes only to be replaced by something dangerous. “Will it help find who killed Sister Bernie?”
Recognizing ferocity when she saw it, Elaine said, “That’s what we’re hoping for.”
“Then count me in,” Elizabeth declared. “If I need you, I’ll send another menu to Mother Winnifred at St. Nicholas since she knew about the arrangement.”
“We’ll check daily,” Griff said, scribbling on a napkin. “Here’s my number too. I’d get a burner phone if I were you, so no one can trace your calls to us. Let me know if you need help paying for them.”
They wove their way among the tables to the foyer. Outside, Griff stopped her, curiosity pulling his eyebrows together. “Did you give her your actual cell number?”
“I did.” Elaine raised her chin. “With everything going on, I’m not going to trust missing a call from her if she needs us with a burner phone. My gut tells me she only uses it if she absolutely needs me. I mean, us.”
“Ok,” Griff said, texting Patrick. “What did Miller want?”
“A body was brought into the morgue this morning,” she said, pulling in a long breath. “He thinks it’s the man who attacked me.”