First I told her the truth about Abby: that the bold and beautiful brunette who had suddenly appeared at her apartment earlier today was my best friend and next-door neighbor-not a potential prostitute-and that she was helping me search for Virginia’s killer. Then, seeing that my broken secrecy pledge didn’t upset Sabrina nearly as much as I thought it would (it seemed we’d both become more trusting and forgiving since our chummy morning chat), I went on to outline the way that she could help us get in to see Corona at the Copa.
At first she flatly refused. It was too dangerous, she said, and she’d never forgive herself if something awful happened to me or Abby as a result of her actions. But after I spoke to Sabrina awhile-pointing out that trying to hunt down a murderer was always dangerous, regardless of the methods used, and that the crowded Copacabana was probably the safest possible setting for such a venture-she agreed to set our scheme in motion.
She said that as soon as she hung up with me, she’d call Tony (he’d been a client for so long she always used his first name). And once she got him on the line (she knew he’d take her call-he always did), she would tell him about the two gorgeous, shapely, incredibly sexy young women who had just that day joined her escort service. Then she’d offer him first dibs, saying she would send the two young ladies to the Copa this evening and-if he’d arrange for them to be admitted at the door and seated at a good table for dinner and the eight o’clock show-they’d be pleased to meet him in his dressing room afterward, where he could look them over and choose the one he wants for the night.
(I would have been happy to forgo the dinner and the show, but Abby wouldn’t hear of it. “All work and no play makes Paige a dull detective,” she insisted.)
I gave Sabrina Abby’s number and told her to call us back when she got off the phone with Corona. Then, while we waited to learn whether or not Corona would take the bait, I guzzled the rest of my Bloody Mary, lit up a cigarette, and filled Abby in on the earlier details of my day-my heart-to-heart talks with Charlotte and Sabrina and my explosive confrontation with Oliver Rice Harrington.
“I told you not to bother with him,” Abby snorted. “Harrington’s not the murderer. You just got yourself fired-really fired-for nothing.”
“I’m sure you’re right about my job,” I said, “but you could be dead wrong about Harrington. He’s a very brutal man, Ab. He’s a cold-hearted cutthroat, a ruthless tycoon, a merciless bastard who probably commits some form of murder every day. Look at how easily-not to mention guiltlessly-he killed my career!”
“That’s not the same as killing a person.”
“Oh, no? Well, you should have seen the way he reacted when I mentioned Virginia Pratt! He went insane, Jane. He was breathing fire! I swear, if he had gotten his hands on me, he would have killed me, too. He would have hauled me up under his arm, lugged me across the room, plowed my head through the glass of the penthouse window, and then chucked me- screaming and flailing-over the ledge.” (Okay, that was a pretty rash and gruesome conclusion, but what can I say? I was in a rash and gruesome mood.)
The phone rang, and we both shot to attention. I sucked in a lungful of smoke, snatched up the receiver, and croaked, “Yes?”
“It’s a go,” Sabrina said. “Tony wants to meet you and Abby tonight after the eight o’clock show, just as we discussed.”
“Good,” I said, giving Abby the thumbs-up.
“You should arrive at the Copa at seven sharp,” Sabrina continued. “Tell the man at the door your names are Gina and Cherry-those are the names I gave Tony. You can decide for yourselves who’s who, but make sure you remember the names and use them whenever you introduce yourselves to someone or speak to each other. Gina and Cherry. The doorman will be expecting you and the maître d’ will show you to your table.
“He’ll probably seat you up front, near the band and the dance floor, so that Tony can watch you while you’re watching him perform. He likes to observe the effect he has on women. It turns him on. So, bat your lashes a lot and try to look as if you’re about to swoon. And show plenty of leg and cleavage. He likes to examine the merchandise closely before making a purchase.”
Ugh.
“Order your dinner as soon as you’re seated,” Sabrina went on, “and eat it as fast as you can, because once the show starts, you must give Tony your full attention. If you don’t, he’ll get miffed, and he might change his mind about seeing you after the show.”
“Sounds like you’ve been through this before.”
“A couple of times, with a couple of different girls. One of them ate a stalk of celery during his opening number, and he had her kicked out at intermission.”
“Nice guy,” I grunted, mulling over this new information. “Did Melody ever annoy him in any way?”
“Not to my knowledge. She was aware that Tony has a quick temper, so she was always on her best behavior. And as long as she was properly respectful of him, he treated her with the utmost respect in return. At least that’s what she told me.”
I took a drag on my cigarette and exhaled loudly. “I wonder if she was properly respectful last Monday night.”
“Good question,” Sabrina said, her voice turning to stone.
“Did Corona say anything to you about Melody?” I asked. My pulse had quickened to a staccato beat. “Did he try to schedule a new date with her?”
“No,” Sabrina said, sighing heavily. “Her name never came up.”
Chapter 26
“OOF!” I GASPED, AS ABBY FASTENED THE LAST hook on the back of the excruciatingly tight, waist-length, strapless push-up bra she was making me wear. “Undo this torture device immediately! I can’t breathe! My ribs are all crunched together, and my breasts are rammed so high they’re blocking my nasal passages.”
“Stop whining, Paige! Sabrina said we have to show a lot of cleavage, and this is the only way you can swing it.”
“Who cares about my cleavage? In that puny excuse for a dress you’ve got on, you’ll be showing more than enough for both of us.” (I wasn’t exaggerating, you should know. The scoop neck of her purple satin sheath was cut so low her own scoops were boldly bobbing in the breeze.) “And if you think I’m going to wear anything that revealing,” I added, “you’ve got another think coming. It’s cold out, Ab! I want something warm and cozy and-
“Mmmmph!” I grunted, as she pulled a skintight, sleeveless, and, for all intents and purposes, chestless black cocktail dress down over my head and roughly zipped it up the back.
“There!” she said. “Now turn around and let me see.”
“Are you kidding? The skirt is so tight I can’t move.”
“Shut up, or I’ll cut a slit up the side.”
I groaned and turned around. “Forget about it, Abby. I’m not going anywhere in this skimpy thing. It’s nothing but a long swimsuit. Only Esther Williams would wear this dress! I feel like a goddamn mermaid, and I’m walking like one, too.” To prove the truth of my words, I took a few baby steps forward, waving my arms for balance and advancing about an inch.
“Stop clowning, Paige!” she squawked. “It’s getting late. We have to be at the Copa in one hour, and I haven’t even put your makeup on yet.” She frowned intently, shoved my hair back off my face, and began rubbing pancake foundation into my skin so hard it hurt.
“Ow!” I complained. “Now who’s being serious and impatient? You’re no fun anymore, you know that? I was just fooling around a little-trying to lighten things up and have a few laughs. A little silliness never hurt anybody, you dig?”