The Actor's Guide To Murder by Rick Copp

Author:Rick Copp [Copp, Rick]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2004-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

If someone told me I would be line dancing with a hardy, sweet-faced cowboy at a gay country-western bar in the Valley in order to hear some dishy information, I would have laughed in his face. But there I was on a hot Sunday afternoon at the Rawhide in North Hollywood, standing off to the side by myself nursing a Bud light.

Vito Wilde had told me to meet him here at six, and it was already five past seven. I was getting antsy and nervous and was about to call his pager when a big, lumbering sweetheart in a red and blue patchwork shirt and ivory cowboy hat cautiously approached me and held out his hand.

“The name’s Stuart. Want to have a go with me?”

I nearly choked on my beer. I was more at home in a bar pounding out the hits of Annie Lennox or even Gloria Gaynor, not Tricia Yearwood and the Dixie Chicks.

“I’m sorry, I don’t line dance.”

“Awwww, come on, why don’t you just give it a whirl? It’s not so hard once you’re out there.”

His charm was overwhelming, and I had to keep telling myself I was in a fulfilling, loving, monogamous relationship. But then again, what was the harm of one tiny little dance? It wasn’t even dark out yet. I tentatively gave him my hand, and he led me out onto the floor where twelve same sex couples twirled and clapped and stomped their feet. I felt naked without the proper boots and Stetson, but I made the best of it, and Stuart wisely took the lead. He positioned me in front of him, slid his arm around my waist, took my left hand with his other and glided me out into the sea of line dancers. I wish I could say I adapted flawlessly, but Stuart’s throbbing feet would probably suggest otherwise. I nailed him with my heel three times before we even got through the intro of the song. I was facing away from him but I sensed that he was wincing in pain. Gentleman that he was, he never said a word. And he didn’t stop. He kept going. And I got him two more times. He slowed his pace, and tightened his grip on my hand, but still never complained, not once. God, I love cowboys.

I saw Vito Wilde enter through the front door and cross to the bar. He wore a patchwork shirt just like Stuart’s, but Vito’s was green and yellow. He ordered a beer on tap and looked around for me. Sweat poured down his agitated face, and his weighty frame heaved up and down with labored breathing. I turned around and smiled at Stuart.

“Mind if we take a break?”

The look on Stuart’s face said it all. He was enormously relieved, but didn’t want to hurt my feelings.

“I’ll catch you on the next go around.”

Stuart limped off the dance floor to a group of pals outside on the patio.

I hurried over to Vito, who had just spotted me.

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