Hard Rock (A Hardboiled Private Investigator Mystery Series): John Rockne Mysteries 2 by Dani Amore

reception he would get when he carried that thing into his house.  If he was married, he might not be for long.
    Ahead, a gold Toyota pulled out of Tripp Collins’s driveway.  I saw three heads inside.  It drove past me and I could see the three Asian girls inside.  Once they passed me, I dropped the Taurus into gear and followed.  They went through the village, then up to Mack Avenue where they turned right.  I followed them until they pulled up in front of a dance studio called Prima Dance.  Two blocks ahead was a liquor store.  I stopped the Taurus in front of it and watched my rearview mirror.  All three girls were out of the car.  Two of them wore ballet outfits.
    They went inside.
    My options were few.  If I went inside, the girls might see me and since I’d already visited their home, there was a good chance they would recognize me.
    So I called.
    “Prima Dance,” the voice said.
    “Hi, I’m interested in signing my daughters up for ballet lessons.  Do you have any open classes?”
    “We sure do.  How old are your daughters?”
    Stupid.  I should have known that would be her first question.
    “They’re fifteen,” I said.  “Twins.”
    “Okay, we have classes at several times per day every day as well as the weekend, what–”
    “You know I would like to see a class before I sign my daughters up,” I said, my voice chock full of enthusiasm.  “Do you have any classes going on right now?”
    “Why yes,” she said.  “We are about to start an intermediate class.”
    “Is there a certain age for this one?”
    “Yes, it’s sixteen and under.  It might be more advanced for your daughters, but you can get a feel for–”
    “Okay, let me think about it,” I said and hung up.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Twenty-Seven
     
    Sixteen and under.   That would do.
    I was making a few assumptions, I knew that.  Maybe there wasn’t anything odd going on, sexually speaking, inside the home of Tripp Collins.  Maybe the Asian girls were three sisters from a dance troupe that he was sponsoring.
    Either way, the fact that he possibly had some female minors living in his home was probably enough for me to bluff him.
    Tomorrow, I would confront him and see what he knew.
    In the meantime, I had to meet my source and ply him with several pounds of ground beef. 
    Paul’s is the best burger place in Grosse Pointe.  It’s kitty corner from St. John’s Hospital, which is perfect for coronary arrest victims.  In fact, I think there’s a shuttle that runs continuously between Paul’s and St. John’s.  The Heart Attack Express.
    In the parking lot, my phone rang and I figured it was Nate.
    It was Amanda Collins.
    She was doing fine, staying with a friend.  The cops hadn’t told her much, just that the fire appeared to have started in the wiring behind the stove.  No foul play suspected.
    Maybe I was totally paranoid, but I wasn’t accepting that fact just yet.
    “So I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about Elizabeth Pierce,” I said.
    She paused on the other end of the line.  “Elizabeth Pierce as in the Grosse Pointe Pierces?”  It sounded funny.  Like they were a magic act or something.
    “Yes, that Elizabeth Pierce.”
    “No.  I know of her, naturally.  But no, I don’t know her personally.”
    “Did Benjamin?”
    The effort I put in to making that question sound casual was extreme, but I didn’t pull it off.
    “Benjamin? Why would he know Elizabeth Pierce?”
    “I don’t know that he did,” I answered.  “But I had a source claim to me that Elizabeth and Benjamin were romantically linked,” I said. The words sounded foreign in my mouth and tasted bitter.  “And you had told me that Benjamin gave you the impression that he’d met someone–”
    “Yeah, but not Elizabeth Pierce,” she said.  Her voice incredulous.  “No way.  No.  Uh-uh.”
    “I know you feel that way, but do you know that for a fact?”
    “If Benjamin was dating Elizabeth Pierce, then