Dead on the Dance Floor

by Heather Graham

  She stared at him, then shook her head. “You’re really something.”

  “Why?”

  “You call me a coward, but you’re worse. You made one mistake, so you copped out. You’re worse than me.”

  He stared at her and didn’t reply. He walked by, saying something to Marnie and Ben, then departed by the back door.

  She followed him, but the door had already closed. Then, as she stood there, hesitant, she heard it.

  The grating sound.

  She couldn’t place it. Was it coming from inside—or outside? Ben turned up the music, and she rushed over, turning down the stereo.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “Didn’t you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” he asked, trying not to sound annoyed.

  “That…noise.”

  “There’s noise from all over, Shannon. What noise are you talking about?”

  “Never mind,” she told him. “When you two are done, let Marnie take a little break, then I’ll see what she’s learned,” Shannon said.

  She left them and walked into the ladies’ room.

  Nothing. And yet…

  The noise, she decided, was coming from the rear of the studio. But from where, exactly, and what the hell was it?

  Quinn found his brother at Nick’s.

  Luckily he was alone. He was also looking very worn.

  Quinn took the chair opposite him. “You look like death warmed over.”

  “Yeah, I’m tired,” Doug admitted.

  “Should you be taking lunch?” Quinn asked.

  “Why?”

  “Well, you took time off this morning to go by to see Jane.”

  Doug flushed. “I had to.”

  “Patrolmen aren’t supposed to mess around like that. Your beat is Kendall.”

  “I only took a few minutes. What’s the matter with you? You’re coming on like a ball-buster sergeant.”

  “What were you and Lara fighting about at the competition?” he demanded.

  Doug avoided his eyes, looking off in the distance. “Fighting?”

  “Yes, fighting. Balcony area, outside the changing rooms.”

  “I was…angry.”

  “About what?”

  “Her behavior.”

  “How so?”

  “She was…she was drinking more than usual, and really flirting. I thought Katarina was going to deck her once when she made a real play for David.”

  “You knew she slept around.”

  “That didn’t mean I liked it. She was in rare form that day. Talking about a million places she was going to go.” He hesitated. “I’d let her know once that…well, I had told her I might be a cop, but I could take as many lessons, pay for a coach as often as I wanted, because I had a trust fund. That was probably why she got interested in me. But that day, she told me that if I didn’t like something, I could just piss off. She’d fool around with anyone she wanted, and she didn’t need money—she’d acquired a source for all she needed. I thought she was just talking through the alcohol. I said something to her about that, too, about how much she was drinking. And she told me she could dance no matter what, she was that good, and that I should just piss off.”

  “And then?” Quinn prompted.

  Doug shrugged. “I did. I left her.”

  “And you didn’t see anyone else with her?”

  He shook his head. “I went to cool down, to remind myself that I was just in it for the fun, that I’d always known she would never get serious. Then, not too much later, I watched her dance, and I realized she would never really love any guy, because she was too much in love with being Lara Trudeau. Not just dancing. But in being herself, out on the floor, making everyone want her. Or envy her.” He took a swallow of iced tea. “Have you found out anything, anything at all?”

  Quinn nodded. “Yeah. I found out that if any two people look the most suspicious, it’s you and Shannon MacKay.” He rose. “Make sure you’re back on your beat on time.”

  Quinn went back to his boat and sat on the deck, going through the files again, looking at his own notes.

  Find waiter.

  Well, he’d found the waiter. Dead end.

  But something was still bothering him. Something Manuel Taylor had said.

  He pulled out the sheets with the listing of names Jake had acquired for him, wondering what it was. It eluded him.

  He hesitated, then called the man. He got his answering machine, but left a message. “Hey, this is Quinn O’Casey. You said you’d like to work a cruise sometime. How about Saturday night.”

  He hung up and called down to the Keys, making sure that Dane could still bring up the party boat they owned for Saturday night.

  Then he swore to himself.

  He’d forgotten all about getting an alarm installed at Shannon’s house. Now Marnie would be living there, too, and he didn’t want the two women alone without protection.

  He swore to himself and pulled out his phone book, then put through a call, hoping his friends in the area remembered who he was.

  Carlos did, and agreed to go out to Shannon’s house himself, saying that he could arrive around five-thirty. “An after-hours job,” Carlos told him cheerfully.

  “Thanks. Really.”

  “Hey, it’s my business,” Carlos said. “No problem.”

  Quinn hung up and pulled out the picture of the woman who had been found dead on Sunday, the drawing that Ashley had done for the paper. Pocketing it, he headed back for the beach.

  Late in the afternoon, Shannon finally stopped, smiling at Marnie. “Let’s take a real break. Get your things. We’ll go to my house and settle you in, grab something to eat.”

  Marnie nodded, then said, “Hey, are you sure? I mean, I feel like Cinderella, some kind of a fairy-tale princess.”

  “I’m used to living alone,” Shannon admitted. “But we’ll manage.”

  Shannon told Ella to make sure that Gordon—who was in his office with the door closed—knew where she was going. She led Marnie to her car and then drove the short distance to her house. The girl’s possessions were truly meager. So far, though, they’d fitted her with some of the used shoes in the studio, and though Shannon and Jane were taller than Marnie, Rhianna was just about her size and had generously seen to it that Marnie took a few of the jeans and shirts she kept in her locker. They would plan a little party for her, Shannon thought, a welcome-to-the-staff party, and everyone could buy her some little thing and she would begin to have real belongings.

  “There isn’t really an extra bedroom, because I had it made into a studio,” Shannon told her. “But we’ll fix up some space for you in that closet, and the couch is comfortable. You won’t have an actual bedroom, but you’ll have a television set, and tons of DVDs and tapes to choose from.”

  Marnie grinned at her. “Hey, I thought I was lucky when I was living in your yard.” She walked in, turned around and said, “Remember, I’m Cinderella. And I mean it. This is like a castle.”

  “Things were really that bad at home?” Shannon asked her.

  Marnie nodded, looking away. She squared her shoulders. “The thing of it is, I’m an adult. I should be able to make it on my own. But once I was out…God, it was harder than I thought it was going to be. I had nothing to start with, I guess.”

  “Well, now you’ve got a room, for what it’s worth,” Shannon told her.

  “A lot.” Marnie hugged her arms around her thin frame. “If it weren’t for you…and Quinn…God, he’s really something, isn’t he?”

  “Oh, yes. He’s something,” Shannon agreed. What could she say to such hero worship? Especially when he was the best “something” she’d come across herself. Ever.

  “I think he’s in love with you,” Marnie said.

  “He’s a student,” she replied sharply. Too sharply.

  Marnie grinned. “Sorry. It’s just…don’t you ever notice the way he looks at you? Boy, if anyone like that ever looked at me that way, well, I woul
dn’t be a silly fool and let him get away. Fraternization rule or not.”

  “I’m going to make tea,” Shannon said. “Do you want some?”

  “You mean like hot tea?”

  “Yes. We’ve got about forty-five minutes. That’s the mealtime. All the teachers make sure to schedule meals around their appointments.”

  “I know, I know. I got the speech.”

  Shannon put the water on. Marnie walked down the hall, looking in at the extra bedroom-slash-studio. “Wow.”

  “I like it,” Shannon said when she got back to the kitchen.

  “The only thing you’re missing is an alarm,” Marnie said matter-of-factly.

  “There’s a dog next door.”

  “Quinn said something about getting one installed for you. I think he meant to do it today, but after last night, what with Jane and all, I think maybe he forgot.” She grinned. “So I bet that means he’ll be around tonight.”

  “Why should he be?”

  Shannon crawled up on one of the bar stools that sat at the counter between the kitchen and the family room.

  “Because of the car, of course. The car that kind of cruises by your house. I guess maybe he didn’t say anything to you. He probably didn’t want to freak you out, because, you know, it’s probably nothing.”

  The water boiled. The steam hit Shannon’s face. Despite it, she felt a sudden deep, debilitating chill.

  Suede hadn’t opened for business when Quinn arrived, but the handsome black doorman recognized him and let him in, telling him that he would go find Gabe.

  Quinn sat at the bar, sipping a soda water, waiting.

  “Hey! It’s the new student. I hear you may rival your brother one day,” Lopez said pleasantly, taking the chair beside him. “Can I get you something besides the drink? We don’t really have a menu, but we’ve got snacks.”

  “No, no, thanks. I was hoping you could help me.”

  “Sure, if I can.”

  He pulled out the picture of Sonya Marquez Miller. “I was trying to find out if this woman had ever been in the club.”

  Gabriel Lopez shook his head sadly. “The cops were in here after she washed up on the beach. I had all my help come out and take a look. I’ve never seen her. They haven’t found out what happened to her, huh?”

  “One big overdose,” Quinn said.

  “I wish I could help.” He hesitated. “You know, of course, that weekends down here get wild. And Miami has a little bit of every kind of Mafia known to man—Russian, Italian, Cuban…then there are the Colombians. Hell, someone even told me that we have Haitian drug lords here. And you name a country from Central or South America, and we get their criminal element on the beach. I get every nationality known to man in here on a Friday or Saturday night, and most of them are fine people, just out for fun. And trust me, there are lots of executive types—clean and pure Monday through Friday, nine to five—who do recreational drugs on weekends. But we’ve kept the club clean. The bartenders and wait staff all know to watch for anyone getting too drunk. We cut them off. And we’re known as the toughest club in the district, as far as checking IDs goes.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard. I was just hoping you might have seen her.”

  “I would have told the cops if I had. Hey, are you going to group class tonight?”

  “Not tonight, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, keep up the dancing. And come back here any time.”

  “Thanks.” He got off the stool.

  “You doing some work for your brother?” Lopez asked him.

  Quinn turned back.

  “I didn’t know you were a cop yourself,” Lopez explained.

  “I’m not,” Quinn said. “Private investigator.”

  “Ah. Well, that’s good. Did the woman’s family hire you?”

  “Can’t say,” Quinn told him.

  “Big secret, huh?”

  “Client privilege,” Quinn told him. “See you later. Are you going to be on the boat Saturday night?”

  “You bet.”

  “See you then.”

  He left Suede and went upstairs, where he found that Shannon was at her house. He called and Marnie answered. He told her to tell Shannon not to freak out when the man from the alarm company arrived. “He’ll be there any minute.”

  Marnie went off to talk to Shannon.

  “She says we have to go back to work.”

  “Fine. I’ll be there any minute, too, then.”

  He hung up before there could be any protest.

  When he arrived at Shannon’s, Carlos Rodriguez was already there, and Shannon was standing at the door, ready to leave.

  “Do you know,” she told him, “you really need to discuss it with someone when you’re ordering something for their house.”

  “We talked about this. You need an alarm,” he told her, and added impatiently, “And I’ll pay for it, if that’s the problem.”

  “Trust fund, right?” she said coolly. “Don’t be ridiculous. I make a decent income.”

  She was rigid and entirely aloof. It made him want to grab her and…

  He wanted to touch her face. Run his thumb along her cheek, thread his fingers into her hair. Hell. Crush her against him. Every body part he had suddenly came up with a physiological memory of what it was like to be with her.

  “I’ve got to get back. Since you wanted this, you stay here until it’s done,” she said.

  “I intend to stay here,” he informed her, noting the grating tone of his own voice.

  Marnie gave him a shrug as Shannon started down the walk for her car, then ran to catch up with her.

  “Told you,” the girl said, and Quinn could hear her. “He’s really got a thing for you. Like he’s in love with you or something.”

  “This is what you want, right?”

  Quinn jumped. Carlos was in front of him. “What?”

  “The system—you want a standard system. Windows and doors, a keypad, and an automatic alarm if they’re breeched?”

  He nodded, looking after Shannon’s car as it drove away down the street.

  CHAPTER 20

  By the time she drove back home that night, Shannon was exhausted.

  She’d intended to get back by the hospital to see Jane, but she never had, because the studio had been so busy.

  It amazed her, because she had thought that the death and burial of a major ballroom dance star like Lara Trudeau might have given people pause.

  It hadn’t.

  It seemed that everyone wanted to be at the studio.

  One of the important factors in planning the Gator Gala had been encouraging the students to compete, and therefore, to take more classes.

  It was working.

  On top of that, Jane’s attack of appendicitis seemed to have drawn people out of the woodwork. The regulars were all there, and then some.

  Gunter and Helga came by, saying they had stopped to see Jane on the way. Christie—who only made an appearance when she was coaching—arrived, as well. Doug showed up and stayed a little while, saying that he was going by the hospital. Bobby Yarborough and Giselle came, saying they had already stopped by the hospital. Both Katarina and David were there. Gabriel was up, bringing a few friends from the club, trying to introduce them to the magical world of dance.

  Despite having sworn that he wasn’t showing up, Richard Long came, and Mina was with him.

  He barely mentioned Quinn, except to note with a certain pleasure that the man wasn’t in attendance. Their younger crowd, a number of the high school girls and boys, showed up, as well as some of the newer students. People stayed, chatting after the last class.

  Shannon was ready to scream.

  She didn’t think about noises, or leaving the studio. She wished that she didn’t have a new housemate, because Marnie was excited; she had never tired during the day, despite working with each of the teachers in succession. Christie had watched her and given her a number of pointers, then commented to Shannon that they had found someone who co
uld excel.

  “She reminds me of Lara, actually,” Christie said.

  “Her talent, yes,” Shannon agreed.

  Christie gave a rueful smile. “Certainly not character-wise. Lara always had…well, never mind, it isn’t nice to speak ill of the dead. Oh, what the hell. From the time she started, there was something cutthroat about Lara. With Marnie, it’s pure love and enthusiasm. Maybe she reminds me more of you. Once.”

  At that point, Ben had joined in. “Shannon is going to do some dancing with me.”

  Christie’s face lit up. “Really? If you do go back into competition, I’d love to work with the two of you again.”

  “Maybe,” Shannon murmured. She had told Ben she would dance with him. And for the first time that night, she felt a spur of excitement. Yes. Maybe…yes.

  Grudgingly she admitted to herself that if she did indeed go back into professional competition, Quinn O’Casey would have been the one to stir her into it.

  That made her even more tired.

  Since Marnie was bubbling all over with enthusiasm, she forced herself not to ask the girl to please just shut up as they drove.

  Yet when they reached house and she saw that Quinn’s car was still in front, she felt a strange ripple of emotion—one she didn’t want to analyze. Could he possibly really care about her? And could she possibly care about him?

  “Quinn is still here,” Marnie said.

  “Yes, well, that’s a good thing,” she said, realizing that if he hadn’t been there, she would have been in trouble—she had left with the alarm man working and her house keys on the counter. “I didn’t bring my house key,” she reminded Marnie.

  “Oh,” Marnie said. “And there’s an alarm.” She grinned. “There’s an alarm system on Cinderella’s castle now.”

  When she knocked on her own door, it took him several minutes to answer it. His hair was tousled, and she realized he’d fallen asleep on the soft couch in back. Even the way his hair looked caused electricity to take flight down a path in her spine.

  “You ran late,” he murmured. But he seemed to have the ability to shake himself to full wakefulness easily enough. “Let me explain the alarm to you.” He showed her the keypad, and told her what to punch when she was home and they were both in for the night, and what to punch when she left the house, and what to punch when she wanted the alarm off if she happened to be coming in and out for any reason.