Part 8

I’m still laughing as I stagger down the hall away from the hair and makeup room currently being used as a makeshift interrogation room. As I left I asked Detective Hull’s permission to wait in my sales room instead of going back to the ballroom. She grants it and as I’m escorted away I start talking to the nice young patrolman, picking his brain about why a detective from the Homicide unit is investigating a child disappearance along with an FBI agent. He tells me not to spread the news but that the FBI had been digging into the possibility of a link between the subculture of pedophiles and the beauty pageant industry. The feds insisted that a Homicide investigator be assigned to this missing persons case because of it might have some small link to what they were looking into. He encouraged me to go to Agent Naquin if I had anything useful to contribute, anything I might have seen through the years. As I went through the doors of the sales room I’d laughed, telling that earnest young man that I’d seen plenty through the years but I didn’t know if any of it applied to the investigation.

Just as I was afraid of Giselle was beside herself, upset over the occurrences of this morning. She was so pale, I noticed and shaking, her lips taking on a bluish tint as she murmured that she was so glad I’d come to sit with her. As I walked in I noticed her kneeling in the corner, eyes closed with rosary beads clutched tightly in her thin lips, pale lips moving in silent prayer.

I’m nervous and on edge about what’s going on here too but I figure it’s not going to help solve the situation by losing it. Speaking with the police was a bit unnerving but I’ve done nothing wrong I kept reminding myself, no reason to be upset, even Tanya’s insane accusation would be proven to be nothing.

Our room was a mess, trunks opened and overflowing, dresses tossed on the floor, the table having heaps of things everywhere. It looks like the searchers went through this room with a leaf blower. So I decide that what we’ll do when we’re waiting is to pack up everything as best we can. It’s not likely that the pageant will resume, at least not today. So we start picking up tiny dresses, smoothing the wrinkles caused by mishandling as best we can, wrapping them in fresh tissue paper and packing them away in our large black trunks.

I had thought that having Giselle engaged in something practical would calm her down but I notice as we’re putting things away that her hands still shake and a lone tear slides down her face. In an effort to inject some levity into the room I start naming off all the upcoming pageants in the most sarcastic manner possible, giving them all dumb names and taking on the voices and mannerisms of various problem clients we’ve had.. Pretty soon Giselle is laughing, joining in my game, adding her own versions of the pageants.

“Lil' Miss Split Peas allllllllllll the way!”

“Was that the one where the girl with the franks and beans swimwear won? I was shocked she definitely didn't follow the rules with those franks on there!!!”

“That outfit had more rhinestones and gold and silver glitter than that pitiful OTR outfit your child had on! You can take that to the bank,girl!”

“Yes it had rhinestones but it also had HOT DOGS and that's not allowed”

“The Pork n bean National !!”

“I didn't like that pageant! My child's fartwear was the best and she was completely overlooked!”

“The Lil' Miss Deep Fryer Turkey Shoot and Pageant”

“and the winner gets a Wal Mart Wardrobe??”

“Little Miss Cheetohs was my favorite!”

“Yeah! It would be your favorite! We all know your child won grand. Do you have to rub it in?”

“My daughter would have won if the director would not have catered to Chester.”

“Yeah your kid didn't deserve grand. That little orange plastic crap dress was no match for my Tootie's plush orange velvet cheeto dress! It was breathing and it was made by a top new up and coming pageant designer, IMA Chicken! She knows more about Cheetos' than you any day. PS: It's for sell on Ebay right now. A super duper , breathing, spectacular, one of a kind, princess, mistress, woman, little girl pageant dress. Never worn! “

“PSS: The dress has never been worn but it has supremed every time!”

“Hey don't be orange , sorry meant green. We earned that title fair and square. That orange dress was made of pure 100% cheeto bags! It took a lot of parties at the trailer to empty all them bags.”

“That's a lie. I know that's you Tempura! You think you're a gift to the world and you're not! I checked those cheeto bags and the paint rubbed off! That was Koolaid bags under there. Cheap glued on Koolaid bags. Read the rules next time.”

“Hey! Instead of using rhinestones on the next dress I design I think I'll use skittles. What ya'll think?”

We’re laughing so hard we don’t notice that Agent Naquin has shown up. He must have knocked and we didn’t hear him because he’s opened the door and is standing in the doorway with a funny look on his face, listening to us parody the entire pageant thing. He’s holding my hotel suite key and says somewhat gruffly, “Here.” I have to stop what I’m doing, which is stuffing hair pieces into a box and collapse laughing before saying, “So did you find whatever it was you were looking for in my suite?”

He taciturnly nods no. But I cannot resist asking, “So do you still want that writing exemplar?” He speaks and I notice his accent is not local, it’s not Houston and it’s certainly not Southern. I’ve had to put it at West coast perhaps, with a touch of Latino. “No, we’re pretty sure you didn’t write that.. and your alibi during the pageant checks out.. Ms. Bledsoe is obviously too distrait to give us much to go on. You were there, you see anything that you didn’t mention earlier?”

What can I say? I shrug and resume packing wiglets into plastic bags, “You know, the whole pageant world is.. a little... odd, for want of a better word. So I’m not sure what to tell you. I saw nothing unusual, if hysterics, verbal cat fights, very swishy men and children dressed like Vietnamese hookers is the usual.” Why pretend any longer I think as I say these words, from what he overheard coming into the room it should be obvious I’m no fan of these contests or the people that populate them. Somewhere behind me Giselle nervously giggles. I wink at Giselle, which really sends her over the edge into laughter.


“I’m glad you ladies find this all so amusing,” Agent Naquin snipes in disgust, turning back towards the door. I feel instantly guilty, asking softly, “You have to excuse me sir, I’ve had about all the pageant I can take, in fact this weekend makes me think that perhaps selling my pageant business might not be such a bad idea. What’s happening with your investigation? I take it you haven’t located Atlanta yet?” He paused in the doorway just long enough to say, “Not yet.. we’ve searched the interior of the hotel and the uniforms are about to start on the vehicles and exterior of the building.. in fact, we’re asking everyone to come down to the ballroom to wait until we’ve completed the search. I’d like both of you ladies to go to the ballroom as soon as you’ve secured your merchandise.”

It didn’t take us long after Agent Naquin left to finish packing things up and securing the trunk locks. Even if I couldn’t have seen the pale shade of Giselle’s face I’d have heard her continued nervousness in her voice. She was so shy and retiring under normal circumstances that something like this was enough to send her into a real tizzy. In the time she’s worked for me I’ve tried to impart the lessons Madame taught me years ago, how to handle people, how to stand up for yourself, how to dress but much of what I’ve passed on seems to have gone in one ear and straight out of the other. She’s clearly flustered, making the odd mistake with the inventory, dropping things and starting one task only to leave it unfinished and moving to something else.