Authors: Ginger Simpson
“Well, if you want, I can go with you tonight. That way you won’t be going alone, and we could sort of call it a girl’s night…but only if you want.”
Michelle drew her bottom lip between her teeth and peered from beneath a forehead she crinkled. To fabricate a fib or tell the truth? Decisions, decisions. She took a deep breath and decided not to lie. “As much as I appreciate the offer, Nay, I…well, I sort of have a date.”
“A date!”
Naomi’s brows shot upward.
“Yeah. I really didn’t want to accept his offer, but I’m meeting the bouncer for a drink.”
“Are you crazy?” Do you even know the man?” She picked up her glass and sipped.
“Well, yes and no to both questions. This case has me bordered on insanity, and I met Louis when I…or Private Investigator, Alicia Keys, stopped in to pose some questions about the Austin case.”
“Isn’t Alicia Keys your favorite singer?” I’m confused.” Nay sat her glass on the table and massaged the bridge of her nose.
“Well…I had to come up with an alias and her name was the first one I thought of. If I introduced my true self, no one would have been willing to talk with me.”
“And…no one questioned your choice?”
“No, and I was surprised.”
“I’m more into country tunes, and even I know Alicia Keys is famous for something. And you say these people work in an establishment where they play
music
?”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure they bump and grind to other singers more suitable for their sexual display.”
She laughed.
“So, back to this Louis guy…tell me again why you accepted his offer for a drink. Saying
no
never occurred to you?”
Michelle’s cell phone sounded from her purse. “Hold that thought. I have to get that.”
She went into the bedroom and returned with her phone to her ear. “
What
?”
The shock in her voice moved Nay to the edge of her seat. She drew her shoulders up and held up her hands, emphasizing her curiosity.
“Are you sure?” Shell rolled her eyes.
“Okay, I guess I can’t argue with that. I’ll be right in…oh wait, maybe I should go ahead with my plans for tonight. This might be the perfect opportunity to pick up on a clue or two.”
Sadness tugged at her heart for the victim of the latest crime. Someone had finally reported Michelle’s vision. “Okay, right. Be careful and get a lead, would ya?”
She clicked off, and sagged back on the sofa, staring down at the phone clutched between her hands.
“Well, are you going to tell me what happened?” Naomi’s question drew Shell from her dismay.
“I guess I won’t be talking to Persia tonight like I planned…the gal who works at Kitty Katz. It appears she
is
the latest victim.” Michelle drained her glass in one long gulp and put it back on the table.
“But, didn’t you say something about eye color?”
“I did. I swear Persia had blue eyes and the vic had brown, but Tony say’s the person who called in the murder, identified her as Bernadette O’Shea.”
“But…”
“Persia told me how much she disliked being called Bernadette because it wasn’t sexy enough. What are the chances? I’ll know more when Tony calls back.”
“Oh, wow. This just keeps getting more and more interesting doesn’t it?” Nay fluttered the fingers of one hand against the other.
“
Interesting
? Women are dying. I’d say
tragic
is a little more descriptive, wouldn’t you?”
“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-f 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.”
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?”
“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.”