"Baby, you know I love you," Shirley bleated out, leaning over Dani to reach down to her crotch, to rub Big Girl that stood harnessed to Dani's groin.
The curvy girl rubbed and pressed her breasts tight to Dani's arm, hoping to entice her into sex. Shirley often tried that, and often it worked but Dani wasn't in a mood for that tonight.
"Not today, Shirley."
I pushed her away, staring at the tumbler in front of her on the aging mahogany bar. There was only one woman on my mind, her name was Liz, and that morning she'd promised she'd spend her American stay with me. Only today the Englishwoman was nowhere to be found. I lifted the glass, swirled around the golden liquid then tossed it to the back of my throat. A waste of good scotch, but I really didn't give a damn at that moment.
The Liz woman could have kept her mouth shut. Should have kept her damned mouth shut. Yes, it was an epic night of passionate sex, but it had been a hookup. She'd gotten to me, taken me somewhere I hadn't been to in years. She could have just said "ta ta" and walked out the door. I would have gotten that. But no, she had to blubber out that she'd stay with me when our bodies were both wet from sweat and recovering. She'd been tender, and Liz wasn't the tender romantic type. I was stupid! I ought to know better than to accept post-coital murmurs as gospel, but dammit, I'd wanted it to be real! Finding it was all just post-sex blather stung.
Ruby set another scotch in front of me, her aging face neutral but her eyes narrowed. Ruby served, but she also watched out. "Don't get stupid, Dani. That woman looked like trouble the moment she walked in."
"Dani," whined Shirley. "Forget that bitch. I would never do that to you." Shirley wasn't giving up but was rubbing her tits on my shoulder and her fingertips on my boobs.
I slapped her hands away to glare at her. "I told you, Shirley, I'm not in the mood! When I'm not in the mood, I'm not in the fucking mood."
Shirley looked hurt, and with her fair cheeks, she had a pretty good pout. But I felt rotten for being cold. I had never pushed her away like that before. It was a game, and Shirley didn't quite get why I didn't want to play. But I didn't feel much like an explanation anyway. Yeah, Shirley'd been grabby but usually I didn't mind grabby with Shirley.
Without thinking I pulled out my phone. I stopped, realizing what I was doing. It would be so easy to call. So fucking easy. So fucking stupid. I set it down on the bar and picked the tumbler, to sip some more of the strong, warm liquor. The phone sat there. Another sip, another long look at the phone.
It might have been the liquor but I didn't feel like I had drinking that long. I had run down a deadbeat husband for Tracey and found his new apartment on the east side. It had been a productive day. But eventually, I picked up the phone, clicked it on, and dialed Liz, ready to tell the no-good slut that it wasn't right to make promises you had no intention of keeping.
It went right to voicemail. That figured. I thought about calling Shirley back over. Maybe I could fuck away the pain and anger, make up for my rudeness. My brain disagreed with that hypothesis, but I hadn't been listening to it much since Liz had kissed me out behind Ruby's back door.
I was mulling over going on the prowl for some relief when the phone rang again. "Dani," said a clipped male voice with military precision.
It was McIlhenny, a cop I'd served beside in Afghanistan. He was a reserve captain in intelligence, and normally that made me shiver. But McIlhenny was good and cared about nothing but getting the job done. He'd never once pretended to know something he didn't know, and that was a pretty big thing when your ass was on the line. He'd known Carolyn, was there for me after she was killed. He was good people.
"What do you want, Mac?"
"We need you to come downtown."
"When?"
"Now would be good."
"I'm not exactly in shape for that at the moment."
"Fine. Get yourself together, but I'm serious. Sooner is better than later. Come see us before we come for you."
What the fuck is this about? That conversation had come as a total surprise. McIlhenny wouldn't have called me if he wasn't serious. I had absolutely zero idea why the cops would want to talk to me. PI's sometimes made enemies, but they didn't usually go to the cops. He didn't work that kind of case anyway. And when a cop was serious, it meant something. I debated calling Tracey, the lawyer I sometimes worked with, but it didn't seem necessary. I'd done nothing! I couldn't think of anything I might even be accused of doing unless it was thinking bad thoughts about lying, evil English bitches.
Tracey likely wasn't needed and those favors should be saved for another day. I waved off Ruby from pouring another scotch, paid my tab, and headed out the door, wondering what the heck was up. McIlhenny wouldn't have called if it wasn't serious, and the first rule of dealing with cops is you don't ignore cops when they're serious. They won't go away, and you'll only piss them off. The second rule of dealing with cops was don't show up at the police station drunk. The third rule was that most cops are straight men. When a pretty girl sought some advantage, it paid to show up looking hot.
I know I'm pretty. Back in high school, the boys were all over me and I could still wear the same clothes. Sure I wore my hair military short, but makeup, eye shadow, lipstick, and the right earrings could femme up anyone. I looked good in tight clothes. Not good enough for a bikini model, but more than enough to turn a man's head. A bra with a bit of padding and some push combined with a tight low-cut blouse would draw almost any eye. A short skirt, plus stockings and heels to shape up my calves completed the package. I looked in the mirror and grinned with pleasure. I was proof that a girl doesn't need long hair to be sexy. I checked in the mirror, polished off another cup of coffee then headed downtown.
Heads did turn as I sashayed into the station. Cops everywhere looked up from the desks, including a cute woman sergeant with skin the color of a Hershey bar and pretty eyes and lips. I smiled back and filed her away for later and walked across the room with a bit of extra sway to my hips, which had cops scrambling to help. They were polite and friendly as could be, and a young blonde lad led me to an examination room, which was like every other examination room on earth. Dull green walls, a long table with a few moderately comfortable chairs, and a two-way mirror in the back so unseen cops could observe my interrogation. And not much else.
They left me there for a while, probably wanting to make me sweat. Giving guilty people time to think was a good tactic, only I wasn't guilty of a thing except for romantic stupidity. I couldn't see the cameras but knew they had to be there. So I stretched in the most obvious way possible, shoulders back to show off my bust and a leg out to show the gams weren't so bad either. It often helped to get men thinking with their little heads because the little one often kept them from using their big one.
Finally, two cops appeared, and to me they appeared almost like stock characters from Hollywood's central casting. They gave their names, but I put them down as Frumpy and Fancy. Frumpy looked like the tired veteran cop he was, with a cheap, ill-fitting suit, a beer belly, and a balding head with a dark droopy mustache to divide his round face. Fancy was young, his suit clearly tailored, with perfect skin, broad shoulders, and cheekbones you could crack ice on. He looked like a model straight out of GQ. But he wasn't so bad on the eyes, even for me, so there were pluses. Maybe the cops had learned how to distract people too. Still, the pair of characters told me to look out for the traditional good cop/bad cop routine.
They set out their notebooks, and Frumpy gave me a long look and an up-and-down with a not insignificant linger on my boobs then got to business. Fancy didn't ogle, and he was so pretty I began to wonder if he was gay. But he opened the talking.
"So what do you know about Elizabeth Bathory?"
Liz? This was about Liz? Now that was interesting. Why were they interested in her? "I met her yesterday. So not so much."
"Where did you and Miss Bathory meet?"
An obvious opening question. "Ruby's down in the flats at the corner of Cedar and Vine."
It was the truth, though telling them they met at Ruby's had probably just blown plan femme. Cops knew what Ruby's was and who went there. On the other hand, I looked hot and their eyes weren't going anywhere.
Frumpy decided to make it obvious."Ruby's is a dyke bar." He added a bit of sneer to it, which would have meant more if he hadn't had his eyes on my chest.
"So Ruby's is a bar frequented by lesbians," continued Fancy, perfectly correct."Are you a lesbian, Ms. Donatelli?"
I laughed. "I don't go there to meet men." So much for plan femme. If I'd worn my normal outfit they wouldn't have bothered asking.
"What time did you meet Miss Bathory?"
"A little after seven."
