Scottsdale Heat: a romantic light-hearted murder mystery (Laura Black Mysteries Book 1) (4 page)

Alex walked her to his car, opened her door, then went around and let himself in. The car started and backed out of the driveway. Sophie and I ducked out of sight as the Jaguar went back up the street, past our parked car.

We eased out of our space and did a tight U-turn. We followed, again staying well behind the Jaguar. They drove to Scottsdale Road then south toward downtown. They eventually turned east on 5
th
Avenue, into the nightclub district.

We were a block behind Alex, on Sidesaddle Road, when we saw him pull in front of Nexxus. As his car slowed to a stop in front of the main entrance, valets jumped to either side and opened the car doors. Alex and the woman went inside while a valet parked the car.

~~~~

Although best known for golf, Scottsdale is also a city of unique clubs tailored to every taste. At the top end of the glamour club scene is Nexxus. On any given night, the rich and beautiful of Scottsdale gather to spend vast sums of money and parade in front of each other. I had been here a few times over the years, usually if a new boyfriend wanted to impress me on a third or fourth date. Over the years, I had come to realize my boyfriends regarded this as the
have sex with me tonight or there won’t be another
date.

~~~~

We parked at a public lot, two blocks from the club. We walked to the entrance where an enormous bouncer looked us like we were a couple of kids out past our bedtime. He pointed to a line of at least seventy-five people behind a red velvet rope. We trudged back to the end of the line.

“Jeez,” Sophie said. “This’ll take forever. It looks like most of Snottsdale showed up tonight.”

We didn’t talk lot as we inched toward the front of the line. I was keeping an eye out for Alex, hoping we would get in the club before he left. In addition, I really had to go to the bathroom. Unlike Sophie, I’ve never been comfortable about peeing behind a bush in the dark. I was nearing the bursting point and was starting to get beads of sweat on my forehead.

After almost thirty minutes, we were admitted. I paid the outrageous cover for both of us and then bolted for the bathroom.

~~~~

The two-story club was beautiful, done up in purple, silver, and black. Up in a DJ booth, a guy wearing about five pounds of gold chains was spinning disks. He was dancing in place along with the crowd on the huge dance floor. Sound pounded out from giant speakers as several dozen lights and lasers above the dance floor moved and flashed to the beat of the music.

Even though the club was packed, Alex wasn’t hard to spot. We had just walked upstairs when we saw him seated with the blonde in a semi-private alcove, just off the main seating area. The alcove had thick purple carpet, a comfortable black leather couch, end tables, lamps, and an oversized coffee table. To tell the truth, the furniture looked better than the stuff in my living room.

On the coffee table sat the blonde’s large black shoulder bag and two flute glasses, each half full. A bottle of champagne in a silver wine cooler had been placed next to the end of the couch.

Sophie and I grabbed a table close enough to keep an eye on Alex, but far enough away not to be too obvious. Up close, Alexander looked pretty much like he did in his pictures. He was medium height, athletic, had short brown hair, and was clean-shaven. Overall, he had a handsome boyish face, brown eyes, full lips, and a strong chin. It looked like he was wearing the Rolex he had just bought.

We’d been sitting for about a half an hour when a waitress, who could have been the poster girl for a plastic surgery clinic, brought Alex and his date another bottle of champagne. Her costume consisted of a loose-fitting white leather vest with big black buttons and a black bow tie. A black mini skirt, black stockings, and black high-heeled pumps finished her scant outfit. She stuck her ass out as she bent to present the bottle for Alexander’s inspection.

Looking at her, I’ll admit she was impressive. Every inch of her body was perfect. Her nose, her mouth, her boobs, and her ass. All perfect. Her make-up looked professionally applied. Her long red hair had a skillful
just fucked
tousle. She was so perfect I began to think of her as Plastic Surgery Barbie.

Even over the music, I could hear Alexander loved to talk. He seemed to be a born salesman. He spent almost five minutes trying to get a better price for his second bottle of champagne. It seems $600 a bottle was more than he wanted to pay. From the look of quiet frustration on Barbie’s otherwise perfect face, I assumed they had this same conversation when she had delivered the first bottle. From the uninterested look on the blonde’s face, I assumed she was used to his negotiation attempts.

While Alex was trying to convince the waitress to take $100 off the price of the bottle, I took time to study his date. She seemed nice enough. She had on a mid-length sleeveless black dress, tight at the waist, with a plunging neckline revealing boobs two cup sizes larger than mine. She was tall, thin, and muscular, like an aerobics instructor or somebody that was into weight lifting. She had a beautiful face with dark blue eyes, a thin nose, and wide full lips. Her hair was natural looking-blonde and hung halfway down her back. She parted it down the middle with big loose bangs that poofed out and hung down into her eyes. She wore a lot of make-up, especially around her eyes, but had applied it with skill. She seemed to radiate sexuality. I noted several men had also noticed it and were casting glances her way.

Our waitress, similar in perfection to Barbie, approached our table. Instead of taking another drink order, she sat two glasses of champagne on our table.

“From the gentlemen at the bar,” she said, then turned, and left.

We picked up the glasses and looked around. There were two guys at the bar, early thirties, well dressed, and cute. They were grinning at us and holding their glasses up in the universal guy salute. I looked at Sophie.

“Damn,” I said. “They’re cuter than the ones at the restaurant. It’s too bad we can’t fool around with them tonight. We’ve still got work to do.”

Sophie narrowed her eyebrows and gave me a little pout with her lower lip. For a second I thought she was going to argue.

“Oh, all right,” she said at last, “I’ll get rid of them, but you owe me. Did you see their shoes? Those guys have money.”

Sophie then stood up and walked over to the two men. As with the guys at Dos Gringos, she found out who had sent the drinks, then wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him a log, wet, sloppy kiss. They talked for a minute, then she gave the other guy a kiss too. Both guys pulled out business cards and handed them to Sophie. She then turned and walked back to our table.

“Well,” I said, “that’s one way to get rid of them.”

“Hey,” he said, “don’t complain. They’re single and I got both of their cards. Can you say double date?”

~~~~

We sat there for another hour, taking in the club, and watching Alex and his date. The Champagne had given way to Diet Pepsi for me and ginger ale for Sophie. All of the energy had drained out of us and I was considering calling it a night. From the look on Sophie’s face, I didn’t think she would object.

About five minutes later, Alex placed the second, and now empty, champagne bottle upside down in the cooler and they got up to leave. We waited until they started down the stairs and then hurried after them. They were in the valet line behind four other couples. Sophie and I left through the patio entrance and hot-footed it to my Honda.

We drove around the corner in front of the bar just in time to see the black Jaguar turn the far corner of the block. I followed closely for a few minutes until it was obvious Alex was taking the blonde back to her house.

I should have followed them to her house and made sure they were settled in before I called it a night. I should have, but I was dead tired and just wanted to go home. Sophie was already asleep, her head bouncing like a dead woman’s every time I hit a bump. Besides, I reasoned, Alex’s hand had been slid halfway up the blonde’s dress for the last twenty minutes at the club. I doubted they were going anywhere other than the nearest available bed.

~~~~

I
drove back to the office and woke Sophie up. She shook her head to clear it, gave me a sleepy “See you tomorrow,” got up, and walked back to her car. She started it up and I let her go first.

I followed Sophie for a mile, or so. When we came to Miller, I turned and drove to my apartment building.

I was so tired I leaned against the side of the elevator as it slowly went up to the third floor. I went in my apartment, pulled off my clothes, put on an old ASU Sun Devils t-shirt, brushed my teeth, cleared off a pile of clothes from the bed, and then collapsed. The last thing I remember was picking up the clock from the floor and setting the alarm for 7:30.

Yuck.

~~~~

I came to consciousness as the alarm cheerfully chirped away. I hit the snooze bar and reasoned to myself the alarm must be some sort of mistake. Maybe I set it for the wrong time? Perhaps it was some malfunction of the clock? It just couldn’t be 7:30 yet. I was too tired to have to get up.

Nine minutes later, when the alarm did its chirpy thing again, I had enough energy to get up and crawl into the shower. I stood there for almost twenty minutes, regaining use of my limbs and mental functions. I toweled myself off and picked out a short pink cotton dress with blue trim that is both cute and comfortable. Finally, with blue ankle socks and white tennis shoes, I was ready for a day of watching every move Alex made.

I went into the kitchen started a pot of coffee. I opened a can of Seafood Delight for Marlowe and plopped it into his dish. As always, Marlowe attacked it as if he was nearing death from starvation.

Back in the bathroom, I applied minimal makeup and brushed my hair just enough to put it into a ponytail. From the kitchen I heard an all too familiar sound:
Aaack! Aaaaack! Aaaaaaaaaak!

I didn’t need to look. I knew the sound. Marlowe was in the corner of the kitchen, throwing up his breakfast. Every time I heard the sound, it reminded of the movie
The Godfather
. Luca Brasi, the hit man, had made the same sound when they tightened the garrote around his throat.

I knew from experience Marlowe would wait until I left the apartment. He would then privately dine on his previously warmed and chewed breakfast. The thought of this always brought on a faint wave of nausea. Thank God he only did it in the corner of the kitchen on the tile. Sometimes, I seriously think about trading him in on a dog.

I went into the kitchen, avoided looking in the corner, and poured the pot of coffee into
The Big Pig
. I was out of granola bars, so I grabbed a couple of chocolate covered energy bars. I said good-bye to Marlowe and headed out the door.

~~~~

I decided to jog down the stairs. While staring at myself in front of the bathroom mirror, I had decided I would start to sneak in a little exercise whenever I could. Who needs a health club, I thought? I can get the same toned body and rock hard abs with the equipment I already had at my disposal, like my stairs.

I got in my Honda and headed north on Scottsdale Road to the blonde’s house at Gainey Ranch. When I got there, Alex’s car was still in the driveway.

“
Yes!
” I said, pumping my fist up and down. I felt so smug. Hah, I thought, I love getting it right. It’s these small victories that keep me going.

I drove to the end of the street, but didn’t see an inconspicuous place to park. Even worse, there were people out. Some were working in their gardens and some were walking their dogs. What kind of place was this? Didn’t these people have jobs?

I drove around the neighborhood for twenty minutes, passing the blonde’s house every few minutes. I knew I couldn’t keep this up for long. Eventually one of these nosy citizens would notice something amiss and I didn’t feel like explaining myself to the police. Besides, I really had to go to the bathroom. The pot of coffee had gone right through me.

I pulled out of the neighborhood and drove to a convenience store about two miles away on Hayden. Ten minutes later, feeling much relieved, I headed back to the blonde’s. I turned her corner and my heart sank. No black Jaguar.

“
Damn it!
” I yelled.

Well, there was only one way he would have gone, probably. I peeled out and headed west down Doubletree Ranch Road. When I was about a hundred yards away from the intersection with Scottsdale Road, I had to make a decision. I could go straight into a residential area, south toward downtown, or north toward the golf resorts. I mentally flipped a coin and pulled into the southbound turn lane then waited for the turn arrow. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as I sat behind four other cars at the light.

“Come on, come on,” I told the turn signal. Finally, I got the turn arrow and the line began to move. I had just cleared a truck in the middle lane, when I saw the Jaguar in the far right hand lane, turning north.

“Damn it!
” I shouted again.

God, please don’t let there be a cop nearby.

I got to the front of the left turn-lane and did a hard right. I cut across two lanes of waiting traffic and headed north on Scottsdale Road. This clever maneuver was greeted with a chorus of blaring horns and rude gestures, but fortunately, no police.