“I suppose if I knew them, I’d feel more of a connection, but my emotions are different than yours. You’re an author, too, so you have a much wider vocabulary than I do, I suppose…and speaking of, how’s the latest novel coming?”
“I’m stalled. I don’t know if I’ve explained my writing style to you, but I don’t plot ahead. I depend on my characters to lead me and I’ve hit the wall with this one. Don’t even have the title yet, but that came at the end of the first one.” She dug in her pocket and produced a twenty. “Before I forget, here’s the money for the wine, like I promised.”
“That’s too much.” Nay pushed her hand away.
“Consider it partial payment for next time.” She took her friend’s hand, plopped the bill in her palm, then closed her first over it.
Nay moved to the counter, found and held a stopper over the half-full bottle. “Would you like another glass before I take off?”
“No, I’d better not. I have to drive to the club, and it wouldn’t look too good if I got stopped and smelled of wine. You finish it off.”
“Thanks, but I’m not much in the mood.” She secured the top and put the wine in the refrigerator, then straightened. “Besides, I have to get going to give you time to rest up before you get ready for your date.” She turned narrowed eyes on her friend. “I don’t much like the idea of you meeting up with some lump of muscle you just met. You take too many risks.”
“How did you know he was a lump of muscle?”
Nay rolled her eyes. “Have you ever seen a skinny bouncer? Honestly, Shell, I may be stuck in a library all day, but I’m not a total idiot.”
“Hey, no one called you that. I was about to tell you about his build when I got interrupted, but he’s not my type at all. I’m just going to try to pump him for some information that might help with the case.”
“Pump? Make sure how you use that term. He may have a totally different idea.” Nay cackled as she walked to the door but paused and glanced back. “Good luck, Alicia…and please be careful.”
The concern reflecting in her friend’s eyes almost made Michelle tear up. “Always, my friend. Always.”
Chapter Eight
Michelle stood outside the door at Kitty Katz for a moment and took a composing breath. Purposely, she’d avoided wearing anything revealing, and ran perspiring hands down the front of her tan slacks. The darkness had done little to decrease the humidity, and the brown cotton blouse she’d worn to compliment her pants clung to her like a second skin.
Grimacing at the germ-laden handle, she braved opening the door and slipped inside. The air conditioning felt wonderful, but the same stale air greeted her. Expecting to see Louis and noting a different person at his post, she hoped for a reprieve from sharing the promised drink. Perhaps, he’d gone home ill or had a minor emergency. She certainly didn’t wish anything bad for him, but…
She fished in her purse for the cover charge and offered it to the strange set of muscles. “I expected to see Louis here.”
“You Alicia?”
For a moment, her alias escaped her and she gave him a blank stare. “Oh…ah, yes, yes I am.”
The bouncer pushed the ten-dollar bill back at her. “Cover’s on us tonight. Louis is waiting for you at the bar.”
“Thanks.” Michelle gulped back feelings of trepidation. Her eyes adjusted to the dim room, and she focused on the smoke-hazed stage. A rainbow of colored rays highlighted the busty dancer slithering like a snake around the polished chrome pole. The woman with olive skin and dark hair, clearly the one named after an Egyptian feline, danced in a skimpy see-through harem outfit with a grace and sensuality that made it hard to look away…until someone tapped Michelle on the shoulder.
“Hey, Alicia. I saved a place for you at the bar. What would you like to drink?” Louis gestured toward two empty stools amidst men staring lustfully at the stage. A half-empty beer glass marked his space.
Michelle managed a weak smile. Great, now she’d have a ringside seat watching another woman who strangely stirred uncomfortable sexual thoughts. Shell slid onto the stool and took a deep breath. Definitely out of her comfort zone, she shrugged her shoulders to release her growing tension.
“What to drink?” Louis asked again.
“Oh, white wine, please.”
Instead of waiting for the bartender, Louis went to the assorted bottles behind the bar and filled a glass…not a wine goblet, but a regular beer glass. Clearly, pouring drinks wasn’t his forte, but he proudly presented her with content she considered equal to three of her dainty crystal stemware. Although frayed nerves prompted her to empty her tumbler in one gulp, she reminded herself to sip while she found a way to lead into her interrogation. Now, there was the pretty good possibility of a second woman dead who shared the same profession as the first and worked in the same bar…Louis had to know something and she was bound to find out what.
At her first taste, she struggled not to let the wine’s bitterness show in her expression. She expected the usual sweet, fruity flavor she enjoyed, but what was in her glass was definitely a shock to her pallet. Sipping would be a breeze.
“So, Louis, has there been any discussion about Kitten and who might have been upset enough to kill her?” She purposely didn’t mention what she’d heard about Persia until she was certain of the victim’s identity, yet somehow she knew deep down inside that the sweet, bubbly stripper was dead.
Louis pondered the question, staring blankly ahead, then pulled his lips into a narrow line and shook his head. “She hadn’t worked her for very long so I really didn’t know much about her. I did hear rumors that she wasn’t into men, if you get my meaning, but then Mr. C. has a rule about his bouncers mixing it up with his girls. I don’t pay much attention to any of them except to watch out for their safety. I’m sure you noticed while you were in the boss’s office that all the walls have eyes that watch what goes on.”
“Oh, yeah, I definitely noticed the cameras focused everywhere in the place. Rather intimidating, if you ask me.”
“When I first started here, he didn’t have all that fancy equipment, but the bar tabs never added up and he suspected some of the servers and bartenders were pocketing the dough. He fired a couple of people, but that was long before Kitten started dancing.”
“Even if you didn’t know her very well, did you ever notice her interacting with anyone in particular?”
Again, he shook his head. “She usually came in at the last minute, went to the dressing room, did her thing, then left. She didn’t really hang out to hit on the customers for lap dances or attention like most of the others do.”
Michelle grimaced, recollecting Siamese’s offer of an up close and personal performance. Glancing over her shoulder, she scanned the room for other women. Only a few sat among the crowded room, none alone but with a male companion. Did any of them come here because they enjoyed it? Would they pay for a lap dance? The image of Siamese gyrating and rubbing against her sent a shudder up Michelle’s spine, but then she recalled her earlier fascination with Abyssinian. Shell really didn’t like the way the woman made her feel and think. A tingle edged up her backbone, but she braved a look toward the stage. One of the other girls had taken over and didn’t move with half the grace and ease of her predecessor. Why did Michelle feel disappointed?
“Alicia, don’t you like the wine?”
Michelle’s attention snapped back to Louis. “Yeah, of course, but my primary reason for being here isn’t really to drink but to help solve the murder case.” She picked up her glass and took a sip, trying not to show her dislike for the cheap taste.
“Why you and not the cops? As far as I know, not one flatfoot has been in nosing around.”
She put her drink down, but her nervous hands circled the glass while she struggled for the right answer. “Flatfoot?” She stalled, even though she’d heard the distasteful term before.
“Just a term people use…I don’t even know where it came from.” He chuckled. “So?”
<
br /> “Easy answer. I’m in this for the money. As a PI, I get paid to get results. I can only surmise that a stripper’s murder probably ranks low on the police department’s priority, given all the crimes they deal with. I’m sure you’ll eventually get to have a face-to-face with…with a flatfoot.”
Her mind whirred. If only he knew. She thinned her lips to avoid a telling smile. Swiveling on her bar stool, Michelle faced him. “Tell me about the other girls.”
“Like what?”
“How do they get along with each other?”
He rested a hand on her knee, clearly mistaking her intention for interest in him. Handsome and hulky as he was, he paled in comparison to Tony. Besides, the bouncer’s lack of education and refinement was a big turn off. Flatfoot, indeed. If you used a term, you should at least know the origin.
She smiled, plucking his hand away and placing it atop the bar. “Business, Louis. Oh, and by the way, the slang term ‘flatfoot’ probably originated when police officers walked the streets rather than patrolled in cars and they suffered from the wear and tear on their feet. Just another disrespectful term for law enforcement, in my opinion.”
“Oh.” He gulped down his remaining beer, then snapped his fingers to draw the bartender’s attention and pointed to his empty glass. Turning toward her, he slapped the back of his own hand. “Sorry on both counts…I didn’t mean any offense. As far as us, I just thought….”
“I think you’re very nice, and attractive of course, but I’m here solely to get some answers for Cara Austin’s family. I hope you understand.”
“Yeah, sure.” He stared up at the dancer, his hand locked on his freshly delivered brew. His tensed shoulders and distant demeanor showed he‘d gotten her message. His focus turned to his wristwatch. “So, let’s get this over with. I’d like to blow the joint since it is my time off.”
Guilt niggled her. Had she unintentionally sent him the wrong message? Regardless, she had a job to do and answers to get. She took a deep breath. “The girls…I asked how they got along with one another.”
An icy demeanor reflected in his eyes. “Far as I know, they get on fine. I sit at front and watch for problems and collect the money at the door, I don’t babysit them…unless of course they have a problem with the audience.”
His evasive response stiffened her determination. Even from the front door, he had more than ample opportunity to see what went on out front.
“I realize you don’t spend time in their dressing room, but have you ever witnessed any sort of disagreement between one or more of the dancers?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Other than Siamese always complaining that the younger girls make more money than she does, I’d say they tolerate each other.”
She grimaced. No wonder Siamese offered her a lap dance. From the faces and bodies Michelle saw in the dressing room and gyrating on the bar, competition for the older gal had to be tough. What better motive than to eliminate a few of them.
“Are we through here?” Louis snapped her from her thoughts.
“One more question. How about the boss? He ever have any problems with his ladies?”
“Not that I can say…usual disagreements over who should get the biggest share out of the tip jar, more hours…things like that.”
Does Mr. C have a favorite?”
“Geez, you expect me to know that? I don’t butt into the boss’s business.” Louis drained his beer.
“No, of course you don’t, but surely he might pay attention to one more than the other occasionally.”
Louis checked his watch again. “If I have to guess his favorite, it would be Persia, but since she didn’t show up tonight, that might change. Now, I’m outta here.
Before she could utter a word, he slid off the bar stool and hurried out the door. A painful stab pierced her heart. Louis had a much as confirmed what Tony had already discovered. She’d hoped for an informative evening, but not one quite so painful. At least she had two promising leads but someone here knew more than they were telling, and she wasn’t leaving until she got more answers.
She left her bitter wine glass with only a few sips missing and walked toward the door, stopping to speak again with the new bouncer. “Remember me? I’m a private investigator and I wonder if I might go backstage again? Your boss already okayed me talking with the dancers and I have a few more questions.”
He shrugged. “I already heard about you, but I reckon if Mr. C said you could, it’s fine with me. Just don’t interfere with their stage time.”
“I won’t. I shouldn’t be back there very long.” She turned toward the exit to the dressing room.
“Guess your date with Louis didn’t go well. He didn’t even say goodbye when he stormed out.” The man’s intimation caused her to jerk around.
“It wasn’t a date!”
“Oh…well I just—”
“I’m working a case, and my interest in Louis was purely professional.” She practically barked at him.
The bouncer held up his hands as if surrendering. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to piss you off.”
Why was she so angry? Tired, disappointed, sad, but mad? She recalled her late father’s admonishment about expecting too much too soon and realized her problem. Once again, she wanted immediate resolution and battled impatience. She lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap your head off….” Raising her chin, she flashed a “forgive me” smile.
“No problem.” He returned a grin. “I shouldn’t have butted into something that didn’t concern me.”
The obvious smacked her in the face. “Hey, maybe I should have involved you in my investigation since you work here, too.”
He hunched his shoulders. “Not too often. I’m only filling in for Louis tonight. You need to talk to Rodrigo. He’s the other regular.”
“Thanks for the info. Do you know his working hours?”
“Not really sure, but Louis will know. They sore of rotate days and only call me when I’m needed.”
Funny, she hadn’t noticed how handsome the bouncer was before now. His kind, dark eyes, muscular build, and well-combed wavy hair had escaped her until this very moment. He sort of resembled her…why the hell did everyone remind her of her partner? Forcing her thoughts back to the case, she smiled again. “It was very nice meeting you…I don’t even know you name, but I appreciate your help.”
“Hey, no problem. Glad I could be of assistance. Name’s Sam, say…you wouldn’t want to go out sometime would you?” He cocked his head and gave her a most alluring smile.
She swallowed hard. “If I wasn’t so engrossed in work, I’d say yes, but….” Temptation almost consumed her, but time was something she couldn’t spare right now.
“Well, I had to ask.” His smile turned to a boyish grin. “If you ever change your mind, let me know.” He jotted down his name and phone number on a slip of paper and handed it to her.
She tucked his info into her pocket, sure she’d never call, but flattery heated her cheeks. She offered her hand. The warmth from his when he grasped palms with her sent a shiver through her. Damn, she known the guy for all of five minutes and responded like a high school girl anxious for her first date. Maybe she should call…involve herself with something other than dreams about a partner that might be on hold forever. She’d barely had time to breathe, let alone write her number one novel to free her from the department’s ’hands off’ policy. At this rate, she’d die an old maid.
She released the breath she didn’t realize she held. “Well, I’d best get backstage and ask my questions. Thanks again, Sam.”
My pleasure, I’m sure.” He nodded and winked.
She walked toward the dancer’s dressing area, noting Manx was taking her seductive turn on stage. Michelle averted her gaze and pondered her instant attraction to Sam. Damn men! They never came along at the right time. Admittedly, the handsome bouncer made it hard to focus on her job, but she squared her shoulders and walked up the three stairs, trading the stench of th
e bar for the overpowering smell of mixed perfumes and lotions lingering backstage.
* * *
In the car, Michelle started the engine and flipped the AC to high. Her shoulders sagged with disappointment. The women hadn’t revealed anything more than she’d already learned. Persia wasn’t missed because she’d called in and requested the night off. Siamese was scheduled off as well and that fact gnawed at Michelle. Still, according to the ladies present, they all got along and no one had a problem, especially with the boss. In fact, they all proclaimed his fairness and impartiality. Michelle scanned the room for the camera she felt certain was hidden somewhere. No one was ever entirely happy where they worked.
One woman had skimmed over Siamese being a little envious of the younger women, but that seed had already been planted in Michelle’s mind and made the stripper a prime suspect. Her absence tonight heightened Shell’s suspicions and gave her somewhere positive to begin an investigation. At least the night hadn’t been a total wash.
She patted her pocket, making sure the paper with Sam’s number on it was still there. Maybe when things slowed down, she’d give him a call, but right now she had to focus on the case. His beguiling smile made it difficult.
With the car idling, she grabbed her cell phone and pushed two on her speed dial for Tony. The neon sign over the building fluttered, creating eerie images around her. Michelle made sure her doors were locked and made a cursory inspection of her back seat. No doubt about it, the whole place was creepy. She opened the glove box and took out her gun, keeping it close by on the seat.
“Rizetti." Tony’s answering voice raised goosebumps on her arms, but she chalked it up to the air conditioning.
“It’s Michelle. I’ve finished up at Kitty Katz. Do you need me at the crime scene?”
“No need, the body’s been removed and the CSI guys are going through the vic’s apartment. I made notes to share with you, so I’ll see you in the morning. I’m heading home.” He cleared his throat. “B-by the way, how did things go with you tonight? Did the bouncer behave himself?” Concern etched her partner’s voice.
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