His eyes lit up, stabbing me with a needle of guilt for sending the wrong message. “I want to go to the Foxy Lady Lounge. You game?”
“You mean that joint on 951? The one that weird guy gave us the cards for?”
“That’s the one.”
“Absolutely! I’ve been wondering what it was like.”
“Ten o’clock, then. We’ll wait for the place to heat up.”
“Great. I’ll drive.”
“Thanks, Neal. I really appreciate it.”
“So do I,” he said, his gaze lingering on my sweaty BU logo. “You went there, huh?”
His smile was still in place as I nodded and turned to walk away. I was screwing up left and right. From the look on Neal’s face, he thought I really wanted to go out with him.
I tramped down the rest of the stairs. I had to get home and throw out the roses. But first I’d stop at AudreyAnn’s and tell her she had a date tonight. With Rossi’s warning echoing in my brain, I figured safety lay in numbers, so an extra person along wouldn’t hurt, but not another man. A woman. And AudreyAnn fit that bill to overflowing. Okay, she was a woman under suspicion of murder, but so was everyone in Surfside, and my female instinct told me she hadn’t killed Treasure any more than I had. If that made me naïve and overly trusting, so be it. Besides, she owed me one over that blood test, so she was going to the Foxy Lady even if she had to wear bedroom slippers.
Chapter Twelve
In the lounge’s unpaved parking lot, Neal’s headlights bounced off a colorful mix of rusted pickups and late-model sports cars. Straight ahead, on the roof of what looked like a concrete bunker, a blue neon sign flashed Foxy Lady into the night sky. The sign cast the only light for miles around except for a pair of high beams from another car pealing into the lot.
“Are we sure we want to do this?” AudreyAnn asked.
“We are,” I said, getting out of Neal’s BMW before he could change his mind and drive off.
Steamy air, hot and heavy as a sauna, clung to my skin and hair. It carried the odor of decaying vegetation, a reminder that the Everglades, the biggest swamp in the world, lay only a short distance to the east. Despite the heat, I shivered as we slammed the car doors and headed for the entrance to the Lady.
Neal had dressed for the occasion in a lavender French-cuffed shirt—the first French cuffs I’d seen since moving to southwest Florida—and black linen slacks. If he was disappointed by being out on a threesome, he hadn’t let on, and ever the gentleman, he took AudreyAnn by the elbow, helping her keep her balance as she limped to the door over the crushed shell drive. In tight white pants and a top studded with iridescent beads, she brightened up the night. With all that shimmer going on, I doubted anybody would spot her fluffy pink bedroom slippers. The shells must have been hell on her feet, but she didn’t complain. Actually she looked relieved and sounded it too, whispering in my ear that though Chip didn’t want her to move out, she was glad to get away from him for a while. Too bad. Chip was a good guy, but it didn’t look as though their relationship was going anywhere.
For the third night in a row, I wore the apricot shift and the Jimmy Choos. If this kept up, I’d have to do some serious clothes shopping. That meant a fulltime job…but how could I concentrate on a job search while Treasure’s killer hovered over us like an evil presence?
Neal held the door, and we entered a tiny anteroom with one blue bulb suspended from the ceiling. No wonder darkness blanketed the parking lot. Ahead, slivers of light surrounded yet another door. We fumbled our way toward it and pulled it open. A waft of cool air dense with cigarette smoke, aftershave and the hot, pounding rhythm of Nine Inch Nails slapped us in the face. The floor vibrated from the ear-jarring music. AudreyAnn’s feet had to be tingling.
I glanced back at Neal. His pupils, a deer’s caught in headlights, were dilated to the max. I
“You mean that joint on 951? The one that weird guy gave us the cards for?”
“That’s the one.”
“Absolutely! I’ve been wondering what it was like.”
“Ten o’clock, then. We’ll wait for the place to heat up.”
“Great. I’ll drive.”
“Thanks, Neal. I really appreciate it.”
“So do I,” he said, his gaze lingering on my sweaty BU logo. “You went there, huh?”
His smile was still in place as I nodded and turned to walk away. I was screwing up left and right. From the look on Neal’s face, he thought I really wanted to go out with him.
I tramped down the rest of the stairs. I had to get home and throw out the roses. But first I’d stop at AudreyAnn’s and tell her she had a date tonight. With Rossi’s warning echoing in my brain, I figured safety lay in numbers, so an extra person along wouldn’t hurt, but not another man. A woman. And AudreyAnn fit that bill to overflowing. Okay, she was a woman under suspicion of murder, but so was everyone in Surfside, and my female instinct told me she hadn’t killed Treasure any more than I had. If that made me naïve and overly trusting, so be it. Besides, she owed me one over that blood test, so she was going to the Foxy Lady even if she had to wear bedroom slippers.
Chapter Twelve
In the lounge’s unpaved parking lot, Neal’s headlights bounced off a colorful mix of rusted pickups and late-model sports cars. Straight ahead, on the roof of what looked like a concrete bunker, a blue neon sign flashed Foxy Lady into the night sky. The sign cast the only light for miles around except for a pair of high beams from another car pealing into the lot.
“Are we sure we want to do this?” AudreyAnn asked.
“We are,” I said, getting out of Neal’s BMW before he could change his mind and drive off.
Steamy air, hot and heavy as a sauna, clung to my skin and hair. It carried the odor of decaying vegetation, a reminder that the Everglades, the biggest swamp in the world, lay only a short distance to the east. Despite the heat, I shivered as we slammed the car doors and headed for the entrance to the Lady.
Neal had dressed for the occasion in a lavender French-cuffed shirt—the first French cuffs I’d seen since moving to southwest Florida—and black linen slacks. If he was disappointed by being out on a threesome, he hadn’t let on, and ever the gentleman, he took AudreyAnn by the elbow, helping her keep her balance as she limped to the door over the crushed shell drive. In tight white pants and a top studded with iridescent beads, she brightened up the night. With all that shimmer going on, I doubted anybody would spot her fluffy pink bedroom slippers. The shells must have been hell on her feet, but she didn’t complain. Actually she looked relieved and sounded it too, whispering in my ear that though Chip didn’t want her to move out, she was glad to get away from him for a while. Too bad. Chip was a good guy, but it didn’t look as though their relationship was going anywhere.
For the third night in a row, I wore the apricot shift and the Jimmy Choos. If this kept up, I’d have to do some serious clothes shopping. That meant a fulltime job…but how could I concentrate on a job search while Treasure’s killer hovered over us like an evil presence?
Neal held the door, and we entered a tiny anteroom with one blue bulb suspended from the ceiling. No wonder darkness blanketed the parking lot. Ahead, slivers of light surrounded yet another door. We fumbled our way toward it and pulled it open. A waft of cool air dense with cigarette smoke, aftershave and the hot, pounding rhythm of Nine Inch Nails slapped us in the face. The floor vibrated from the ear-jarring music. AudreyAnn’s feet had to be tingling.
I glanced back at Neal. His pupils, a deer’s caught in headlights, were dilated to the max. I
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