The Blackmail by M. Ravenel

Author:M. Ravenel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Hard-Boiled Detective Mystery, Crime Fiction
Publisher: Chikara Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Kronos Lounge was practically dead by the time the cab driver dropped me off around a quarter to three in the morning. Sid had clocked out of work after midnight, so I took my chances with another driver who was just as efficient. Thinking about that dreaded so-called massage parlor left me mentally exhausted. That poor girl. I was going to get little twelve-year-old Sherry out of there somehow and bring Mr. Audrey and the rest of his perverted dirtbags to justice.

The lounge’s front door was unmanned and unlocked, and I slipped inside. The ambient-lit bar was trashed, confetti and balloons everywhere. A hired three-man cleaning crew were scrubbing away with their push brooms and mops and filling garbage bags while a Gladys Knight song crooned from the colorful flashing jukebox in the corner.

Roy’s star barmaid, Stella Holson, was behind the bar, counting her tips, her lush curves bulging out of a sheer lace blouse. A plastic tiara sparkled in her tight afro. Collins, one of the bouncers, was cleaning off the wooden stools then flipping them over and setting them upside down on the bar. He, too, wore a festive multicolored party hat.

“We’re closed,” Collins said firmly without looking up.

I kicked a balloon out of the way, and it popped like a firecracker.

He glanced my way and did a double take. “Oh, hey, Tootsie.”

I gave him and Stella a small salute. “Hey. What happened here? Looks like a tornado ripped through this joint.”

“It was my birthday,” Stella said with a crooked smile. “Roy threw me a surprise party. He’s such a sweetheart.”

Anything for his gorgeous bombshells, I thought, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “Yeah, he sure is. Happy birthday, Stella.”

She winked and continued counting her tips.

“Roy’s in his office,” Collins told me, stabbing his thumb over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” I said, carefully maneuvering around a pile of confetti. I walked to the back of the lounge and knocked on the door to Roy’s private office. “Roy, open up. It’s me.”

No answer. I waited a few moments then knocked again, to no avail. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Roy descending the stairs from his apartment. The shirt of his gaudy light-green leisure suit was half unbuttoned, revealing a peek of his thick chest hair and a heavy gold chain. He held the hand of a young, pale-faced woman dressed in an orange Halston dress and matching high-heeled shoes. She was holding the back of her other hand to her forehead like a weepy damsel in a cheesy Gothic romance. I couldn’t believe Roy would fall for such a cheap act.

Why do I care what Roy does in his spare time? I frowned. Part of me wished he would see me as something more than just another entry in his Rolodex of women. Then again, who was I to compete with drop-dead-gorgeous, curvaceous rock stars like Stella?

“Did I come at a bad time?” I asked, trying to keep the disgust out of my voice.

Roy looked up at me with a start, like a child who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

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