Until the Night (6) by Giles Blunt

Author:Giles Blunt
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Detective, Canadian, WHD, wread done, Fiction, Thriller
ISBN: 9780307375940
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2012-08-07T05:00:00+00:00

The ladies’ room on the second floor had lockers.

“The only thing I can put in here,” Heidi said, “is my cami. And then what am I gonna do if I go to the third floor—put the rest of my stuff in another locker?”

“Or you could come and get it and take it up there with you.”

“I need another drink.”

The bar was circular, surrounded by a series of alcoves furnished with long, low couches and tables. Couples were making out in several of these, including a man and a woman who were wearing only jeans. The light was dark and flattering, the music an ambiguous throb, as if the building were an engine of some sort.

There were no seats at the bar. Heidi and Delorme had an alcove to themselves.

“You’re hot,” Heidi said. “I bet they hit on you all the time at work.”

“Not really. It’s always the same—the one you want isn’t interested and the ones you can’t stand won’t take no for an answer.”

“God, does that sound familiar.” Heidi raised her glass in a silent toast.

A couple came over from the bar. The woman had perfectly straight blond hair cut in a pageboy. The man looked a little younger, maybe mid-thirties, and more nervous.

“Do you mind if we sit here?”

“Of course,” Heidi said. “Lots of room.”

The woman sat beside Delorme. The man sat on the far side of Heidi.

“My husband,” the woman told Delorme, “thinks he would enjoy seeing me make out with another woman.”

“What a shocking idea,” Delorme said.

“I think what he really means is he wants to do it with more than one woman at a time.”

“No, no,” the man said. “I don’t necessarily have to be involved.”

Heidi leaned into Delorme, a little too hard, her cold nose hitting Delorme’s neck before she righted herself. She cupped a hand to Delorme’s ear and whispered, “He’s pretty cute, doncha think?”

“I think,” Delorme said, “I’m going to save it for the third floor. Assuming I get up the nerve.”

“My name’s Janey, and this is Ron. We’ve never been up there,” the woman said. She had a wide forehead and authoritative cheekbones, the sort of face you might cast in a movie as a senator or a judge. Not a Janey. “Maybe we could venture up there together—assuming, as you say, we get up the nerve.”

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