Deadly Bond by Gemma Halliday

Author:Gemma Halliday
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romantic suspense, romantic comedy, womens fiction, private eye, private investigator, women sleuths, female private investigator
Publisher: Gemma Halliday

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Blue Moon Lounge was located just off Sunset, in the touristy section of Hollywood. Parking spots were few and far between, and I ended up stashing my Roadster in a pay lot several doors down. I passed by street performers and several couples posing for selfies in front of iconic storefronts before I finally found the club, housed in a small dark building with posters on the walls touting several different acts who would be appearing there in the near future.

While a sign on the door said they didn't open until 3p.m., the door wasn't locked and swung open easily as I pushed inside.

At the far end of the room sat a stage where a woman in a long white dress wearing turquoise tribal beads was stroking a harp. Beside her stood a slim guy wearing a checked cardigan and a beret, playing a flute. The combination of the two instruments was calm and serene, and I could hear the accompanying sound of wind being piped in through speakers.

A long bar ran through the center of the room, breaking up several groupings of small tables and booths, all positioned to view the stage. A guy in a black T-shirt with a logo of a blue moon holding a beer stood behind the bar slicing up lemons and limes.

"May I help you?" he asked as I approached.

"I'm looking for Tad Windhorse," I told him.

He inclined his head toward the guy in the beret on the stage. "That's him. He should be almost done with the sound check."

"That's Tad?" I glanced back at the subdued man with the flute. I had a hard time reconciling the man in the beret with the snarling rocker I'd seen in the Deadly Devils' promotional materials. Granted, some time had passed, but while the other Devils had merged into faded versions of their young selves, Tad/Tosh had seemed to reinvent himself into a compete opposite.

"That's him. He and his partner, Sierra, are the Wind Dancers."

"Thanks," I told the bartender as he turned back to his lemons.

I took a stool at the end of the bar closest to the stage and watched the pair finish their rehearsal. The music had a rhythmic feel to it that, along with the woman's occasional chanting, had an almost hypnotic feel. It reminded me of what you'd hear at a spa or a yoga class, and the relaxing effect had me feeling every minute of my sleepless night. I stifled a yawn as they finished their song.

The woman, presumably Sierra, gave a few notes to someone mixing the sound, and I slipped off my stool and approached the man who was twisting his flute apart, setting the pieces reverently down in a velvet-lined case.

"Mr. Windhorse?" I asked.

"Yes?" He turned a pair of warm brown eyes my way. A serene smile sat on his face, as if playing music had been a meditative experience for him.

"Hi. My name is Jamie Bond. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.

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