Authors: Ronica Black
“
Her
way?” Liz abandoned the couch and went over to the monitors, scanning them quickly.
“How long has she been here?” she asked, having to clear her tight throat to speak.
“Not long.”
“Has she said anything?” She finally tore her eyes from the monitors.
“No.”
Liz had already moved to her closet to rifle through her clothes, tossing a few shirts on the bed.
“Would you like me to tell her that her presence is requested up here?” Tyson turned discreetly away from her as she stripped off her clothes.
“No.” She made her way to the shower. “I’ll see to her myself.”
*
“Do you see her?” Patricia asked loudly.
Gary shook his head as “Master and Servant” by Depeche Mode blasted through the speakers into the club. On the platforms, women moved seductively against one another. They were wearing 1940s apparel, with a member of each couple wearing a zoot suit, topped off with a fedora hat pulled down at an angle over their eyes. Their counterparts in the newsboy hats wore see-through tank tops with suspenders to hold up the wide-legged, high-waisted worker pants. The women in the newsboys busied themselves undressing the suited women, exposing large strap-on dildos beneath their pinstripe pants.
Patricia looked away as the women in the newsboys began sucking on the dildos. Did she really want to put herself through this? She was determined to continue on the case, but going after Erin? It seemed almost crazy to her at that moment as the women danced and gyrated above her.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” a deep voice asked from behind.
She turned, instantly recognizing the sultry voice. “I think you know why I’m here.” She tried hard not to stare at Elizabeth Adams.
“To harass me some more?” Liz queried, raising a black eyebrow.
Patricia gave a short laugh. “Harass you? I wouldn’t waste my time. You’re not worth it.”
“Then why are you here, Detective?” Adams had the nerve to look amused.
“Where is she?” Patricia glared at her, looking beyond the muscled arms and the sleeveless blue button-down shirt that so perfectly matched her eyes.
She believed Erin was there, but not because she’d hatched some secret criminal plan with Liz, as Gary had suggested. She thought Erin was there simply out of lust and wonderment, if not to escape her current problems with a drink.
“Where’s who?” Liz asked, all innocence.
“Erin McKenzie,” Patricia said with hatred in her voice. Liz could act uncaring and aloof with anyone else she wanted to, but Patricia wouldn’t let her act that way about Erin.
Liz’s face seemed to soften at the name. She looked around the club with what could almost pass as anxiety. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her.”
“Bullshit!” Patricia seethed. “I know she’s here.”
“Look, I’m telling you the truth. I haven’t seen her. Is something wrong?” Adams concern seemed genuine. “Is she…okay?”
“Why? You give a shit?”
For a moment Liz’s eyes flashed fierce anger, then her face became impassive. “Look around the club all you want. To my knowledge, she’s not here.”
Patricia threw Gary an angry look. “This is ridiculous,” she said as Liz walked away. “I told you Mac isn’t involved.”
“I don’t know. You saw how concerned she got just then. I don’t think that’s just a coincidence. Mac’s probably up in her room as we speak.”
“No. She’s not here,” Patricia said. Gary had it completely wrong. He had mistaken Liz’s concern for an instinct of self-preservation. “Adams would never let us look around if she were. I have a feeling that if we asked her, she’d let us up see her private room tonight. She seems more than willing to cooperate.”
Almost too willing.
“Then let’s go ask.”
“No. If we go demanding to be let into her private room, don’t you think it will set off more alarms in her? If you’re right and she does have something to hide in this investigation, then I can guarantee you she’s up there right now, trying to figure out why we’re here. Adams is smart, way smarter than your average felon.”
Gary thought for a moment. “Maybe she’s got Mac somewhere else.”
“Maybe she doesn’t have her anywhere at all. Maybe Mac is somewhere blowing off steam,” Patricia said, trying to convince herself as well as her partner.
“I hope you’re right. But I don’t buy it. I think we should head over to her house in the hills, check it out, see if we get any movement.”
“You think she’s got Mac stashed there?” Patricia shook her head in disbelief. “If she does, we’ll never know it. That place is rigged like Fort Knox, and I’m not about to go and sit outside the gate with my thumbs up my ass all night, just in case.” She was tired and frustrated and didn’t feel like continuing this wild-goose chase. “So if you want surveillance, I suggest you call in one of the other teams.”
“You know I can’t do that. The case is closed.”
“Yes, so this is nuts! What are we even doing here?”
“You’re still a cop, Patricia,” her partner said. “You always will be, whether you’re off writing best sellers or not. And I know there are things about this case that are eating away at you. Ignoring them won’t make it go away.”
Patricia groaned. “What are you, a public service announcement?”
“If you’re so damned sure she’s not involved, what have you got to lose?”
Patricia gazed into his eyes and knew he was wrong about Erin and possibly even wrong about Liz. But still, the phone calls and a few odd facts about Kristen Reece’s death nagged at her. As she walked toward the main entrance with him, she realized she was going to get to the bottom of this case, closed or not. But it wasn’t because she needed to prove anything to Gary. She needed to know the truth. Whatever it was.
*
“They’re here looking for that cute blonde, right?” Tyson asked.
“Yeah,” Liz said, watching the detectives cross the dance floor.
“I heard them saying she went out for a drink.”
“So far you’re batting a thousand, Tyson.” Her patience was wearing extremely thin. “Now tell me your point, because I know you have one.”
“Well, after hearing that, I took the liberty of calling over to Chasity’s.”
She turned toward him, her interest piqued. Chasity’s was the only other lesbian nightspot in Valle Luna. Located just down the street, it was a tiny establishment with just a bar, a small dance floor, and a room with a pool table. With La Femme’s size, budget, and popularity, no one else seemed to want to compete. But Chasity had opened her place fifteen years ago, well before La Femme, and she still had her regulars.
“And?”
“She’s there.”
Liz stood straighter at the revelation, instantly ready to go.
Tyson continued. “Chasity said she’s already cut her off. She’s drunk and barely able to walk, much less dance. I asked her not to kick her out.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a sincere smile. “Will you please escort the detectives around while I’m gone? Including my private quarters, to show them that she’s really not here?” She was already walking.
Ahead of her, Tyson reached Patricia and her male counterpart just before they hit the door.
“Excuse me, Detectives.” His thick voice thundered out, getting their attention. “I’ve been instructed to show you around the club. Anywhere you wish to go, I will make sure you have access.”
They exchanged a look. “Thank you, I think we’ll take you up on that,” the male detective said.
Liz pulled her Harley-Davidson to a stop behind the small bar just a few blocks down the way from hers. As she killed the engine, she could hear the loud music drifting out through the door, which was always left open just a crack during business hours. She dismounted the black-and-chrome machine and walked the short distance around the white brick building.
A sign was mounted by the entrance, warning that no one under the age of twenty-one would be admitted. But as she pulled open the door, no bouncer stood to check ID. Only the eyes of the few patrons turned to examine her as she walked in.
“Hey, Liz!” Chasity called out from behind the bar.
Liz made her way over to the tall chairs and shook the older woman’s hand. “Chas, long time no see.”
“No shit, man.” Her friend’s brown eyes were warm. “So how you been?”
“Better,” she responded, offering no more.
Chasity brushed self-consciously at her 1950s diamond-patterned button-down shirt. “I’ll bet.” She looked past Liz to the dance floor, where Erin swayed to the music with her eyes closed, obviously lost in her own little world and very intoxicated. “This is hers.” She handed over a flannel shirt from behind the bar.
Liz took the garment and ignored the questions in her old friend’s eyes. Instead, she made her way to the dance floor and stepped in front Erin.
“Hi,” she said.
Erin opened her eyes and focused blearily. She, and one other, appeared to be the only dancers on the small floor. “Hi yourself.” She offered a sloppy grin and, poking at Liz’s chest with a finger, slurred out, “Wait a minute! I’m not at your club, I left your club.” She looked around hastily. “What are you doing here?” She stepped closer to touch Liz’s arms. “Are you real? “Or are you just a figment of my imagiation…imagination.”
“I’m real.” Liz steadied her with a half hug. “And you’re drunk.”
“Ohmygod really?” She laughed hysterically.
“Come on, let’s go.” Liz tried to steer her off the dance floor.
“Where to?” Erin asked, dragging her feet. “I wanna dance.”
“You’ve danced enough.”
“I wanna dance some more.” She stopped in her tracks, resisting as Liz tried to guide her toward the exit. “Gah,” Erin let out as she looked up into Liz’s face. “You are so fucking gorgeous, ya know that?” She reached up to touch her.
Liz grabbed at her hand, stopping her before she most likely poked her eye. Then quickly, and with relative ease, she hoisted her up and over her shoulder.
“Hey!” Erin yelled, weakly slapping at Liz’s back. “This isn’t dancing!”
Liz carried her to the bar, where she tossed a hundred dollar bill on the glossy wood counter and apologized.
“Nah, man. She wasn’t any trouble. Entertaining maybe, but no trouble.” A few of the other patrons at the bar voiced up and agreed with the bar owner.
“Then, for your hospitality, drinks are on me,” Liz said, refusing to take back her money.
They left the bar and Erin found herself on her feet again next to Liz’s Harley.
“You all right?” Liz asked.
“Fucking fabulous.” Erin grabbed her forehead as a wave of dizziness surged through her. Closing her eyes, she leaned into Liz and swallowed back some nausea.
“You up for a ride, dancing queen?” Liz asked, looking down into her face.
Erin stood on her own once again and watched as Liz bent down to start the bike. “I don’t think I can,” she said over the roar of the engine.
“Sure you can.” Liz swung her denim-clad leg over the bike. “You can ride in front.” She scooted back on the seat and motioned for Erin to climb on in front of her. Having little other choice in the matter, Erin shrugged, then climbed onto the bike.
“Here, put on your shirt.” Liz helped her shrug into the warm flannel.
Too drunk to think about anything serious, Erin let the shirt warm her skin and allowed herself to concentrate on the feel of Liz pressed up against her from behind. Strong arms confined her as Liz grabbed the handlebars.
She grinned uncontrollably as her skin awakened, loving the feel of the thighs encasing her, the breasts pressing into her back. She inhaled the scent of her, memories instantly triggered. As they drove off from the small lesbian bar, she leaned back into Liz, closing her eyes, loving the feel of the wind, and the feel of the beautiful woman behind her.
They hadn’t traveled very far when she felt the bike slow down and they pulled into a corner convenience store. Liz parked and cut the engine before she quickly and easily dismounted.
“Why are we here?” Erin asked, blinking away her impending headache.
“I’ll be right back.” Liz gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
As she waited, Erin let her hands rest on the tank of the bike. She swallowed back more nausea while listening to the drone of the traffic behind her. She rubbed her temples and thought that perhaps she shouldn’t have had the sixth shot after all, not to mention the two vodka chasers she had insisted upon.
With the thought of alcohol making her sick, she tried instead to concentrate on the beautiful and mysterious woman who had surprisingly shown up to rescue her. She had no idea as to why Liz had come to get her, but drunk as she was, the idea of being with her once again instantly excited her, encouraging her to sober up.
“Here,” Liz said with a soft smile as she returned to the bike.
Erin took the brown paper bag. “What is it?”
“Stuff that will help.”
Liz climbed back onto the bike and Erin held fast to the bag as they roared back into traffic and headed away from the heart of the city.