“Now, how about that drink?” he asked.
“I think I may have had enough,” I replied, charmed and somewhat bemused by this too-young man’s attention but also aware that my thoughts were turning edgy. Probably a result of this relentless dance music pounding through my head.
Simon Ward frowned, but the expression of eagerness never left his bright eyes. “Come on, the night is young! Have another drink, on me.”
I sighed. There was still no sign of Benedetto’s backer.
Clearly, I had a stakeout on my hands, and I could almost hear Mike Quinn’s voice: You’re not going anywhere at the moment, anyway, Cosi. So talk to this guy. He’s a good cover. And this bar’s not exactly democratizing its luxury, so let the man pay.
I glanced up at Simon. “Sure. If you’d really like to treat me, why not?”
“That’s the spirit.” He took my nearly empty glass, slid it across the bar, and ordered another.
I managed to avoid his unwavering gaze while we made polite conversation. At one point, I spied a woman at least my age, in a too-daring banana-yellow tank dress with a short skirt and plunging neckline. She was fairly tall and strongly built with severe features, and her ebony hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail. To my surprise, the woman was openly glaring at me.
Whoa, what is her problem? She can’t possibly be jealous. This kid’s not much older than my daughter!
That’s when I remembered Tucker giving me the lowdown on a recent social trend. Tadpoling, he’d called it, insisting older women were hooking up with young men all the time now.
Simon passed me the drink, and our fingers touched. I looked up and met his gaze. His eyes widened, and he took a breath.
“Sorry,” he said, seemingly embarrassed.
“What are you apologizing for?”
“I was struck a little speechless, that’s all,” he replied sheepishly. “Yeah, I know it sounds corny to someone as sophisticated as you obviously are.”
“Excuse me?”
He nodded. “Your beautiful hair, your wonderful clothes…I’m a fashion designer, and I knew from just one look at you that you possessed an impeccable taste—”
I nearly choked on my martini. The irony was hilarious. It wasn’t my taste he was admiring. It was Madame’s. And I had to agree with him on that score. Her taste always had been impeccable.
“Just look at those green emeralds around your neck. See how they shimmer. Do you realize those gems are an exact match for the gorgeous green shade of your bright eyes?”
I gulped a hit of my martini. This guy’s really pouring it on. Has he been drinking excessively?
That’s when I noticed a man finally going through the mirrored doors next to the bar. It wasn’t an employee. And it wasn’t an unknown. The man going in to see Billy Benedetto was Anton Wright.
Anton Wright is Benedetto’s backer.
My God. I’d scored big coming here. Huge. I was now absolutely sure I’d found Keitel’s killer. Benedetto wanted Keitel dead, but I was willing to bet that Anton Wright was in on it somehow, too. What else could Benedetto possibly have on Anton?
I’ll talk to Mike first thing tomorrow, I decided. With his help, I’m sure we can come up with a plan to collar Billy Benedetto and free my baby girl!
A grin split my face, and I felt like celebrating. Simon glanced over, saw my expression. “Hey, now,” he said. “Look at that beautiful smile—”
Just then, someone tapped me hard. I turned. An Amazon of a woman in a dress covered in red rhinestones placed a manicured hand on my shoulder.
“There you are, girlfriend!” she gushed. “I see you’ve hooked up. So have I. But before I go home, I want you to join me in the powder room.”
I blinked, baffled. Did I know her? Was she a customer from the Blend?
I took a closer look at the woman. My goodness, she was large. Was there a WWF for women? If there was, she’d have mopped the floor with every opponent. In her late thirties, she had a longish, slightly horsey oval face, and she wore her very short blond hair in tight curls against her scalp. I didn’t recall seeing her at the Blend, and I certainly would have remembered this Wonder Woman stand-in.
She smiled, batted her heavily made-up eyes.
“Look!” she cried, acting a little tipsy. “There’s my guy, over there.” She clutched my shoulder and pointed insistently.
I looked in the direction of her gesture, and my body froze. The man she’d pointed to was Mike Quinn. The lieutenant was waving at me from across the room.
Mike? I blinked, more than a little confused. What in heaven’s name is going on?
Twenty-Four
I moved to go to Mike, ask him what was happening, but the blond Amazon acting like my best friend actually restrained me with a fairly powerful grip.
“Come to the ladies’ room with me, please, Clare,” she said.
How does she know my name?
Before I could ask, Wonder Woman turned to my eager young suitor. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked. “I promise, Clare will be right back as soon as we’re done with our girl talk.”
I glanced at Mike again, and he nodded. Something was going down here. He wanted me to play along.
“Okay,” I said, nodding to the big blond. I handed my martini to Simon Ward. “Would you hold on to my drink, Simon? I’ll be right back.”
“Please hurry,” he replied, appearing a little annoyed.
I followed the woman across the room to the ladies’. But as soon as we stepped through the door, I turned on her.
“Okay, what’s going on?”
She immediately reached into the bodice of her rhinestone dress and pulled out a gold shield. “Detective Lori Soles, NYPD. I’m on Lieutenant Quinn’s task force.”
“You’re hunting the May-September gang?”
I could have kicked myself the second I’d blurted that out. Mike had told me that in confidence.
The woman blinked, surprised. “Lieutenant Quinn told me you were a private detective. You are, right? You have a license?”
“I, ah—”
“Quinn also told me to tell you that he thinks you can handle this. He said I should emphasize that for some reason. Something about a conversation you had with him at a crime scene recently?”
Oh, God.
“He also told me that you solved some pretty hairy homicides, and this should be a walk in the park. Are you up for it?”
The door opened again, and another woman entered. I recognized her at once: the jealous one with the too-daring banana-yellow tank dress and the slicked-down ebony ponytail. She’d glared at me earlier, when Simon first began talking to me. I noticed she was clutching an oversized black handbag under one arm that in no way matched her outfit.
“This better work,” she grumbled. “I turned on the charm for forty minutes, then she walks in and the freakin’ perp dumps me!”
She appraised me, shook her head. “The little bastard is obviously going for the emeralds.”
Detective Soles rolled her eyes. “This is my partner, Sue Ellen Bass,” she said.
“Well, is she going to do it?” Detective Bass demanded.
“Calm down,” said Detective Soles. “I haven’t explained the sting yet.”
Before I could ask them, “What sting?” or even make an educated guess where this conversation was going, given Quinn’s current task force goals, the door opened, and two exceedingly tipsy young women entered the ladies’, tittering loudly.