'Til Death (Part three of fifteen)

‘Til Death

A Trick Molloy Mystery

©2009 Michael A. Stackpole

Part Three

Lou’s problem could wait for at least one night. Natalia Heron, a professor at a local college, had told me we were doing something special. She emailed me strict instructions on what I was to wear. Wasn’t my usual thing. Closest I got to shopping was hitting the club’s lost and found. Had my choice of a half-dozen shirts and even a couple pairs of slacks. Amazing what guys will leave behind when drunk and in love with every third stripper that passes their way.

I supplied my own black slacks. The black camp shirt I picked up had red inset panels and short sleeves. I didn’t mind that it wasn’t meant to be tucked-in. It was roomy enough I could have hidden a Vulcan mini-gun beneath it. Black shoes, bright shine, and I was good to go.

I got to her place and wondered if she had spies watching me. Talia’s small, blonde and has a figure that makes her gender deliciously apparent. She wore a little red dress with spaghetti straps that held her as tightly as I wanted to. Better yet, when I gathered her in my arms, my fingers found the zipper without much of a search.

Not that we’d not have enjoyed the search.

She kissed me, then pushed back. “Don’t you even think of tugging that zipper!”

“Not ever?”

Talia laughed, displaying the smile that had first attracted me. “You’ll have to earn it.”

“That could be fun.” I mirrored her smile. “Where to?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Talia?”

She hooked an arm through mine. “You’re driving. Take direction well and you’ll find it very rewarding.”

We got into the car and started driving. Talia knows what I do, so she doesn’t ask me how my day was. Not that she doesn’t care or isn’t interested. She just figures that if there’s something I want to let her know, I will. I like that. People who go at others like they’re an archeological dig bug me.

I debated for a half-second telling her about Lou. He was part of my life from before when I met her. I broke down and told her everything. Lou would continue to be part of my life, so she’d run into him sooner or later. Having her know what to expect was a good thing.

She listened attentively, then squeezed my arm. “What are you going to do?”

“See what I can learn on the Russian. See if there is angle on him. Try to reason with him.”

Passing streetlights flashed in her blue eyes. “What he did to the girl wasn’t reasonable.”

“It made sense in his world. She was merchandise. She had little value. He could spend her to make a point.” I shrugged. “She was the cost of doing business.”

“If I can help, Trick…”

I smiled, pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you. If I can think of anything, I’ll let you know.”

“But the Russian is nasty and you’d be happy if he never knows I exist.”

“When’d you become a telepath?”

“I’ve been practicing.” She pointed off to the right. “There, with the neon. Park in back.”

She directed me to a club called Threeway. Long and low, looked like it had been built out of an old strip-mall. I think I’d been there once, years ago, when it still was a convenience store, drycleaner and pizzeria. Lots of neon and a valet station, but most of the cars in the lot were domestic and dented.

They hit us for a ten buck cover and that let us in the Aqua room. Blue lights everywhere, water sheeting down glass, a couple of aquariums. DJ pounded hip-hop loud enough to cover an air-raid. People crowded the dance floor. I felt like a chaperone at a high school dance.

Using hand-signals to communicate, we moved into the Green room. Think fern-bar ala Jurassic Park. Everything was overdone, and the dinosaurs stalking that place were scarier than any velociraptor. Old guys, shirts open to reveal white carpets and gold chains. Women whose faces had been lifted more times than I’d been shot—and I’d healed a lot better. Disco music and dancers more likely to bust a hip than a move.

I followed Talia from Green Hell down a long corridor. Shades of red up ahead had me thinking we were bound for an inferno, but worked out that was just some accent lights. The hall opened into a big room that had been dressed out as a Spanish courtyard, complete with fountain in the back, balcony on the left for the DJ, and a few decorative pillars separating the bar from the tiled dance floor. It looked like a movie set for some Zorro flick. Only the faint thud of bass music from the first room ruined the illusion.

Talia took me by the hand and lead me to the floor. “We’re in time for the lesson.”

“Ah, Talia…”

She gave me a stern look. “You said you trusted me. I like dancing. This lesson isn’t going to kill you.”

“Talia…”

“Hush, Trick.” She slipped in close and whispered to me. “Besides, some folks think dancing is just sex standing up. For the sake of science, I think we need to test that theory. Up for it?”

“Absolutely.”

Folks circled around the floor. A small, dark-haired guy introduced himself as Rick, and his partner as Tina. She was a smoking little Latina with a dazzling smile and smoldering brown eyes. They took us through a beginning Salsa lesson. They started with the basic step and tossed in a couple of turns.

Talia danced well. She’d clearly taken that lesson a number of times. As she rotated through partners, she greeted some men with a smile. Those same men flashed dark glances at me, so it was all good. She proved to be a popular partner, being light on her feet, and clearly enjoying every turn.

By the end of the lesson, she’d rotated back around to me, so I had her for the first dance after the instructors turned us loose. I took her through the turns we’d been taught. She smiled encouragingly. “You’re learning quickly.”

I winked at her, then tossed her through a turn we’d not learned. She came around, surprise on her face. A little bit of puzzlement in those eyes. It melted into delight as I spun her into a Hammerlock, and back out into a Cuddle. One more turn, then a dip as the music ended.

She came back up, her mouth open. Shocked. “You didn’t tell me you knew how to dance.”

“Went undercover in a dance school that was bilking old ladies.”

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”

Talia shot me a glance. “Is it okay?”

My face closed. “It’s not you he wants to dance with, darlin'”

The man, tall, slender, dark hair and hard eyes, snorted. “We need to talk, Molloy.”

“That means you think I need to listen.”

“Outside.”

“And if I don’t want to go?”

RT Sullivan pulled out his cell phone. “Vice is waiting to sweep Club Flesh. They’ll find a kilo of cocaine. Management will be told you’re the one who squealed.”

If you are enjoying this story and were wondering how we got here, please visit the Stormwolf Store. The short story “The Witch in Scarlet” is the Trick Molloy tale that immediately precedes this one.