Our cozy mystery, Honeymoon in Savannah: A Detective Santy Mystery, takes place in Savannah, Georgia during the St. Patrick’s Day "Season", as the locals call it. Before we left for our trip to the beautiful city, my husband and I read that in Savannah, St. Patrick’s festivities go on for days. It’s almost as big as Boston’s celebration of it. So, here's an excerpt from our book that takes place on St. Patrick's Day when the honeymooners go to see a performance of The Lady Chablis, famous for her role in the bestseller, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.
After Detective Santy and her husband Ron got out of bed and dressed, they headed into town to see a performance of the African American comedienne/drag queen, Lady Chablis. It took about twenty minutes to get to downtown and they encountered hordes of St. Patrick’s revelers. They found a parking place about six blocks south of the club and stepped into the craziness. The crowds were even worse than they were the day before. Drunks were everywhere, and young women screamed as if they were at a frat party. It was semi-controlled chaos. People threw beads down on the crowds from balconies. Many drank beer openly as they walked down the streets. Firemen and other uniformed people tried to keep things safe. Police cars zoomed from place to place. Ron said, “This must be what Mardi Gras is like.” They jockeyed their way through the hordes of people and arrived at Club One just in time for the 9:00 show.
They told the doorman that they had reserved tickets, and after he checked their names off his list, they walked inside. The first thing they saw was a crowded dance floor flooded with dry ice smoke and loud Euro-beat music played.
Her husband Ron told her, “Yikes! We’ve reached gay-bar-hell,” as he saw three scantily-clad men dancing on risers. “Is this what we’re in for?” he asked the detective. “I don’t know if I can make it for two hours of this.”
“Oh Ron, open up your mind! What are you afraid of? Think one of them is going to hit on you?”
He smirked back at her, and she grabbed his arm and guided him to another door and stairs that led up to the cabaret level.
When they arrived upstairs, Ron said, “Phew! Bless you, my dear! Good thing someone knows what they’re doing and where they’re going!”
She told him, “I read all about the club before we got here. I can’t believe the crowds. I’m glad that it isn’t as crazy up here as it is downstairs!”
The cabaret room was a relatively small space: about 100 feet by 60 feet. The stage was tee-shaped with chairs and tables filling in each side of the tee. The room couldn’t hold much more than maybe a hundred people, tops. The first two rows of seats had small shared tables for the “high rollers” like them who had made reservations. Two reserved seats had their names on sheets of paper taped to the backs of the chairs. Their table was down in front just about dead center.
When Ron saw how close they were to the stage, he said, “Uh-oh. I hope she doesn’t pick us out of the crowd to make fun of.”
Clarissa told him, “This should be interesting. You’re sitting right next to the stripper pole.”
He answered back, “Oh, just great! I’m definitely toast!”
A spotlight in the rear illuminated the entire width and depth of the stage. Ron went to the small bar and ordered two glasses of wine for them. When he was returning, the lights dimmed. Here we go, he told himself.
The first act was The Lady and three others in the revue. The curtain parted, and they began lip-synching I Will Survive in all their drag glory.
Clarissa said, “There she is, The Lady. Oh my god. There’s the friggin’ Lady Chablis.”
Each singer took turns lip-synching and moving around the audience. People were up at the stage almost immediately offering one-dollar-bill tips.
Ron told himself, we don’t have to do that, but then felt a bit guilty because the emcee had announced before the show that the ladies were playing for tips. After a few of the singers received tips from everyone else, the detective and Ron sheepishly got out all their spare bills. Luckily, they had quite a few ones on them. Soon, they were playing right along with everyone else. The show continued with several solo performances, including The Lady herself. About halfway through, Chablis came out and did her “standup.” She took her microphone and said to the crowd, “Hey, bitch!”
“Hey, bitch!” the crowd yelled back at her. She moved amongst the audience looking for victims. Fortunately, they were spared. There was too many other low hanging fruit in the crowd for her to lampoon.
A gay couple from Australia kept her busy for most of the night. A woman asked The Lady to retrieve tips from her bra. Chablis objected and told the woman, “What do ya think you’re doing, girl?! I ain’t no lesbian!”
Several fawning young men adorned her with some big tips. Towards the end of the show, a good-looking black man who was about thirty asked his friends to get a picture of him tipping The Lady while she sang. He stood at the edge of the stage in front of Clarissa and Ron and waved the cash teasingly at The Lady. He appeared to be wishing to prolong the moment. The Lady one-upped him and leaped into his arms. For a short while, they embraced before he deposited her back on the stage on her butt. Her pearl necklace flew off across the stage. They both seemed taken by the moment. The young man almost rose to the stage for a final dance but pulled back at the last moment.
Singing Elton John’s “Your Song,” the Lady signed off for the night, but not before she walked over to Ron and planted a big red kiss on his cheek during her tip collection.
They thought it was hilarious.
The performance was only an hour and they were left with a feeling that they wanted more. They were ready for two hours and this was a surprise. “Oh well,” Clarissa said. “We did get to see one more person besides Martha from the Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil cast and I’m happy for that.”
They wandered out into the Savannah night and found that the revelers were still at it. There was the same amount of craziness, only everyone was drunker than before. Back at the hotel, they got a bottle of wine from the Marriott market and retired to their room to indulge themselves in two hours of post-show talk and drink. Ron said to her, “I really think The Lady is a good judge of who’s who in the audience. She knows who she can mess with and who she should stay away from. Pretty cool.”
His wife agreed and asked, “Are you ever going to wash her lips off your face?”
He laughed at himself. “Listen to us, being Lady Chablis-groupies.”
“Yeah! We are a bit star-struck. Too funny. What a great way to end a great day!” she told him, snuggled next to him in the spoon position, and drifted off to sleep.
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Would you like to read more about Savannah and the murder of a famous Savannah chef, who just happens to be Detective Santy's cousin?
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