Murder Miscalculated by Andrew MacRae Page B

didn’t have to ask, Lynn knew what the question would be.
    “Yes,” she said with a sigh. “I still have my photo.” Lynn gave a theatrical shudder. “I’ll show it to you later.”
    I opened the red door and held it for Lynn and April, then followed them inside.
    The interior of The Pink Poodle is forever dim and shadowy, the better to mask the cheapness of the furnishings. Since the floorshows didn’t begin for a while yet, it was relatively quiet with a recording of Sinatra crooning in the background. A sniff of the stale air brought back memories of when this was my hangout, back when Lynn worked here. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
    The small dancer’s stage with a pole in the center was across from where we stood. A pair of harsh, white lights gave it a flat and washed out appearance. Two young women dressed in jeans and sweatshirts were wiping the stage down with towels.
    “Know them?” I asked Lynn.
    She shook her head. “Newbies.” She turned to April. “That’s the first thing you learn when you’re a stripper, how to keep the stage clean. Believe me, when you’re dancing fast barefoot, you don’t want anything on the floor, especially since there’s no stopping the dance, ever.”
    The two young dancers had already wiped down the runway behind the bar. It ran the length of the side of the building to our left. Three men in rumpled coats had their elbows on the bar and their heads down in their drinks.
    Even the Johnny the Bartender was the same as before. He gave me a glance to make certain I was watching and then turned his back on me. That didn’t bother me. I felt the same way about him.
    “Lynn! Kid!” Candy burst out from the door to the kitchen. “Thank God you’re here.” She hurried over and gave both Lynn and me a hug, then turned and examined April Quist. “You must be Miss Quist,” she said and extended her hand. “Max was beginning to think you’d abandoned him.”
    April hesitated a moment before accepting Candy’s welcome.
    Candy was dressed in a heavy flannel bathrobe. Her hair was a tangle of an impossible shade of red with gray roots showing in places. She carried a few extra pounds, her makeup needed touching up and the slippers on her feet were decidedly un-sexy. For all that, Candy radiated beauty and a natural sensuousness.
    “Hi, I’m April, Mister Carson’s event coordinator. Is he okay?” It was interesting to watch the two women size each other up.
    “Well, Donnie and his guys were pretty rough on him ‘cause of all the damage he did.” Candy pointed to a corner where several broken chairs were stacked. “They stuck him in a storeroom after he passed out.”
    Candy motioned to us to follow her as she continued. “I found him there this morning when I was getting a fresh can of coffee. He didn’t wake up until a couple of hours ago.”
    We followed Candy back into the kitchen. This was a dreary room with windows made opaque with years of grease and wooden cabinets and counters that carried the scars of much use and little cleaning or care. The air had a rancid taste.
    Max Carson, Famous Author, sat on a stool at a tall kitchen table, looking very different than when we had last seen him at the book signing at The Book Nook.
    His hair was a matted mess. His long handlebar mustaches went in different directions, and the beginning of a black eye was showing above his right cheek. His clothes testified to his having spent hours sleeping on the floor.
    “Oh, Max,” cried April and hurried over to him.
    Max gave a sheepish smile. “Hello, little lady. Did you come to bail me out?” He noticed Lynn and me. “Hey, you even brought the cavalry with you.” Candy walked over and stood next to him as he continued. “April, Greg, Lynn, I’d like you to meet Miss Candy, my savior and protector.”
    Candy patted Max’s hand. “Max, I told you that Lynn and The Kid are old friends of mine.”
    “Wait a second,” Max rubbed his temple. “Are you sayin’