Death, Taxes, and Hot-Pink Leg Warmers by Diane Kelly

Author:Diane Kelly [Kelly, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯), Mystery
ISBN: 9781250023070
Publisher: St. Martin's
Published: 2013-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

chapter twenty-four

Bye-bye Birdie

As we left the courthouse, I turned to Eddie. “Want to work out with me and Lu? It’s Pilates again.”

“You gonna wear those ridiculous leg warmers?”

“Yeah.” They’d grown on me. Besides, they were a gift from the Lobo. The old broad was overbearing and demanding, but I liked her nonetheless. “You got something to say about it?”

Eddie raised his palms in surrender. “Who am I to question you about your wardrobe?”

Nick joined Eddie, me, and Lu at the Y for the Pilates class. I enjoyed working out with the balls and stretchy bands. They were much easier than the Zumba moves.

As I stopped at the water fountain afterward, Nick twirled his towel into a tight, twisted weapon and snapped it at me, popping me on the butt with it. “You’re looking mighty fine these days.”

“It’s these workouts with Lu.” I wiped water from my mouth with the back of my hand. “She’s really pushing herself. It’s forced me to step up my game.”

“Keep it up,” Nick said, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Because I’m going to give you the workout of your life.”

I could hardly wait.

* * *

Tuesday evening, a cold fall drizzle moved into the metroplex. While the moisture would normally turn my hair into an unmanageable ball of frizz, with my new curly perm my hair became curlier and springier. There’s a lot to be said for such a carefree style.

It was another relatively slow night at Guys & Dolls. Neither Nick nor Aaron Menger were working, so Christina and I were on our own. Both of the men had told us to text them if Wesley Prescott showed his face at the club. If he’s there, I’m there, Nick’s text said. Don’t take any chances.

I knew Nick only meant to express concern, but a part of me couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the implication that we might take a stupid risk. Then again, I had been stupid before, not realized a risk existed, and ended up with a fractured skull. My confidence was still shaky, which annoyed me even more. If we could take Geils down, though, my self-esteem would be restored.

As I headed to the bar for a soda, I noticed a couple of men in the audience had taken advantage of the small crowd to flash a lot of cash. In a short time, both were surrounded by young women clamoring to earn a big tip. I had to wonder if the men might be undercover cops from the Dallas PD sex crimes unit trying to buy their way into the VIP room.

One of the regular but less generous customers, a burly, beer-bellied guy, didn’t like being ignored. He stood at his table and hollered, “What’s a guy gotta do to see some tits around here?”

Maybe tip more than three bucks for a lap dance? Heck, even I knew that.

The dancers on the club floor glanced briefly his way and began arguing among themselves. One of them eventually acquiesced and walked less than enthusiastically to beer belly’s table.

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