Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash by Polly Iyer

popped wide open. “Boney?” She stood and craned her neck over her shoulder to get a better look. “Ernie, is it true?” The question came out more of a whine.
    Lucier appraised her backside, turned to Miss Kitty. “You need to be careful what you say to my woman. She’s got enough meat on her for me.”
    “Ha! Then you must be a vegetarian.” Miss Kitty waggled her shoulder, chuckled, and strutted off to tend to the rest of the crowd. “Eat up, now, ya hear? When you’re finished, Emile will announce you.”
    “Boney,” Diana said. “What a nerve. I’m petite, not boney.”
    “You’re perfect,” Lucier assured her. “Now come on, eat.”
    Diana pouted. “I’ve been snookered and insulted. I have a good mind to take my boney ass out of here.”
    “You’re a big deal for Kitty’s Kabaret,” Lucier said. “She didn’t mean anything. It’s just her Machiavellian way. And take it easy on Emile.”
    “Oh, I will, and I’ll use the same tactic he used on me.” She batted her eyelashes in mock innocence. “The crowd. Besides, if I don’t, Keys will visit me in my dreams.”
    Adele gasped. “Does that happen to you? Like the psychic on TV?”
    “Huh? Oh, no. Mine come when I’m awake.”
    “You’re in kind of a trance,” Beecher said, putting down a naked chicken wing. “Like you’re possessed.”
    “Oh, dear.” Adele flapped her hand over her heart. “I hope that won’t happen when you get up on the stage. I’d be scared out of my wits.”
    “My trances― ” she glared at Beecher ― ”don’t always happen the same way. Stop scaring your wife, Sam.”
    “You gotta admit you go someplace else in your mind,” Beecher said. “So, you really gonna read someone? Really?”
    “Yup. I am.”
    Beecher snickered while picking up a Cajun shrimp. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He stopped with the food almost in his mouth, nodded to Lucier’s left, and mumbled, “Lightner.”
    Lucier turned, saw the commander. “And Dave Rickett. Wonder what they’re talking about.”
    “Ya think ―”
    “I try not to speculate. Their conversation could be as innocent as discussing the league baseball team.”
    “Maybe they’re wondering what Moran’s last hacking job for the district was.” Beecher picked up another shrimp. “I’ve been thinking about motive. What if Moran was into these revenge crimes with those guys, and that’s what got him killed?”
    “Keys might have been a hacker,” Diana said, “but he wasn’t crooked.”
    “Seems contradictory,” Beecher said. “Hacking ain’t exactly legal. If anyone got hold of what he did when he worked for you, you’d’ve both been in hot water.”
    Diana straightened. “Keys handled our online promotion, lined up shows, and did the website, all the things necessary for an act these days. Nothing. More.”
    “Oookay,” Beecher drawled. “Have it your way.”
    “Besides,” Diana said, “I’d hate to think New Orleans’ finest would use a hacker, considering that Keys worked for y’all on occasion. Hmm, wonder what he did. Be a pity if that leaked, what with all this talk about wiretapping and surveillance going on.”
    Beecher coughed.
    Lucier got up. “I could use a beer. The staff is too busy. I don’t want to wait an hour for a drink. I’m buying. Anyone?”
    “Beer for me,” Beecher said.
    “What about you, Adele?”
    “Oh, I’m strictly sweet tea.”
    Diana swallowed whatever she was eating. “Scotch?”
    “You’re performing,” Lucier said. “Still want scotch?”
    Diana mumbled something under her breath. “I’d love a sweet tea, darling.”
    Laughing, Lucier said, “Be right back.” He didn’t want a beer as much as he wanted to horn in on the conversation between Commander Lightner and Dave Rickett, and they were right on the path to the bar. They saw him weaving through the crowd in their direction and smiled.
    “Commander,” he said to Lightner. “Long time, Rickett.”
    Rickett