When Della reached the nightclub, however, she found that they were closed on Tuesdays.
"Do you want me to take you somewhere else, Miss?" the cab driver offered.
"No, it looks like there are people here. Drive around back, please. I want to see if I can talk to someone. Can you wait for me there too?"
"Sure thing, lady."
The back door was opening just as Della was about to knock. Two women came out in tropical costumes. They eyed Della suspiciously.
"Is there someone inside I could talk to?" Della smiled.
"That all depends on what you want to talk about," the taller one said, looking Della up and down, "If you want a job, I'm afraid they don't need anymore girls..."
"No, no, I don't want a job," she couldn't help but flush a bit at the very thought, "I want to speak to someone about Yvonne Direz."
"You too?" the shorter one spoke, "Ain't she popular!"
"I understand she sings here?"
"She does, but she didn't come in for rehearsals tonight. We already had a guy in here asking about her."
"You did?" Della pulled out her notebook, "What did he look like?"
"Now why should I tell you?" the tall girl began to get huffy.
"Hang on a minute, Doris," the shorter one interrupted, then spoke to Della, "He wasn't your husband, was he?"
"I don't know; that's what I'm trying to find out."
Doris and the other girl looked at each other.
"Tell her, Mary," Doris nodded.
"Well, he came in and began to question all of us girls. He kept wanting to know where Yvonne was and he was mean and rude to us."
"And what did he look like?" Della asked.
"He had a hat on, and I think he had blonde hair."
"That wasn't my husband," said Della, though she already knew it was not Perry, "What kinds of questions did he ask?"
"He asked me if I knew where Yvonne lived and the last time I saw her. I don't know where she is, and I saw her yesterday," Mary shrugged carelessly.
"Has there been anyone else looking for Yvonne?"
"I don't know. You'll have to ask inside. Look, I gotta boyfriend who's going to be mad if I'm late for our date. I gotta scram. Ask for Mr. Campter and tell him Mary sent you. Come on, Doris," Mary looked at her watch.
"Thank you for your help!" Della called after the girls and Doris waved over her shoulder.
The nightclub was full of girls in all sorts of costumes and musicians carrying their instruments. Della had to ask several people where Mr. Campter was, and most of the time no one answered.
"Lady, look out!" a man stepped next to her and blocked her from being hit by a large stage prop.
"Oh, my, thank you!" Della gasped.
"You have to watch it when you're back stage. Is there anything I can do for you?" the man asked, rolling down his shirt sleeves.
"You're looking at him. What can I do for you?" the man smiled and shook her hand.
"Can I ask you a few questions about Yvonne Direz? I understand she works here."
"She does," Mr. Campter nodded, "Go ahead and ask, but why don't you step over here so we're out of the way."
They stepped off to the side.
"First, was there anyone here tonight looking for her?"
"There was a guy who came around asking a bunch of questions. He went and questioned all the girls too."
Della nodded and wrote down the information, along with the description Mr. Campter gave.
"And a lawyer called my office. He asked if she was here and if I knew where he could reach her."
So Perry had called. That was much smarter than driving all over the place, but that meant Della could not catch up with him.
"The lawyer was my husband. Did he say where he was calling from?"
"Sorry, I didn't ask."
"That's all right. Do you know where Yvonne is? It is very very important that I find her."
Something in the way Della said this made Mr. Campter look at her curiously.
"Through that door is the women's dressing rooms. Yvonne's is down the hall, last door on the left. Maybe you find something that will help you."
"Thank you so much!" Della smiled.
Yvonne's door was closed, but not locked. Della fumbled around for the light switch, then blinked at how bright the room was. Yvonne was a very tidy person. It only took Della a minute to look over the room. She did not find anything helpful, except an address scribbled on the back of a sheet of music. Della copied the address down.
She turned to go, then noticed something hanging on the back of the door. It was a note, which read,
"Quiet people are safe people."
Della's eyes widened. She wet out into the hall and asked one of the dancers if any men had been in Yvonne's room.
"There was a blonde guy asking a bunch of questions. I think he went in there, even though no guys are allowed in the dressing room area," the dancer said.
Della nodded. The blonde man must be leaving the threatening notes. She just had to find Yvonne before he did! She hurried out to her waiting taxi.
"Three-twenty North Court Drive, please, and hurry!" Della gave him the address she had found.
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