Micah made a sound. "Anita, she's your friend, but..."
I turned and found that Dallas the dancer was on the floor with Ronnie on top of him. She was still dressed from the waist down, but he wasn't. Her shirt was unbuttoned, and if she'd started the night with a bra, it was gone now.
I'd had enough. Enough of strangers pawing my boyfriends. Enough of Ronnie dragging our asses down here. Enough of her self-destructive indulgence. I got enough of that kind of shit from Richard, I didn't need it from her.
"Veronica Marie Simms," I said.
She blinked up at the voice and the sound of all three of her names. "Who are you, my mother?"
I grabbed the belt of her jeans and lifted her bodily off of the man. It startled her, and me, because I didn't have to fight to lift her. She was bigger than I was, taller, just bigger, and I lifted her like she weighed nothing. I got her stumbling to her feet.
Dallas said, "Hey, we weren't finished."
I showed him my badge. "Yeah, you were." I kept the badge in my left hand and threw Ronnie over my shoulder. I had to bounce her once up in the air to get her settled better, then we were fine. I walked down the hallway, Nathaniel got the curtain and followed us, Micah brought up the rear.
She didn't struggle, but she argued, "Anita, put me down!"
The creepy couple was not waiting for us in the little area in front of the rooms. I was glad. I had my badge out, but I'd have to throw Ronnie on the floor to go for my gun. I scanned the room as we entered it, and the couple was nowhere in sight. Even better.
"Anita, I am not a fucking child. Put me down!"
The bouncer came our way, and I flashed my badge at him. He held his hands up, as if to say, no trouble here. We kept walking for the door. The music was still blaring loud enough that it hurt my skull, but the people noise died down as they watched us pass. I don't know if it was the badge, the fact that a girl was carrying a girl, the fact that Ronnie was probably flashing breast to the entire room, or everybody was mourning the fact that I was taking the two best looking men in the room with me. Whatever, we walked in a strange well of stillness, as everyone stopped dancing, stopped talking, stopped drinking, stopped and watched us.
I had to use my badge hand to help steady Ronnie as I went up the steps to the platform in front of the door, but we made it just fine. Nathaniel went ahead and got the door that led into the cloakroom. Micah went through the door and hurried in front of me to get the outside door. We went out into the cool autumn air. The door shut behind us, and the silence left my ears ringing.
"Put me the fuck down." This time she struggled, not well, not like she could have, but I'd lost patience. She wanted down, I put her down. I dumped her on the gravel on her ass.
I think she might have yelled at me, but a funny look crossed her face, and she was suddenly scrambling to her feet and running, stumbling toward the grassy field that edged the parking area. She fell onto all fours and started to retch.
"Shit," I said, softly and with feeling. I started walking toward her, and the men came at my back. I motioned them to stay by the last line of cars, as I waded out into the grass to Ronnie. The dry autumn grass made that whish-whish sound against my jeans.
Ronnie was still on all fours. The sour sweet smell of vomit reached me before I reached her. She had to be my friend, because I went to her, and I swept her hair back from her face and held it like you do a child. Only true friendship would have kept me there while she threw up everything she'd drunk that night.
I was trying to think of something else, anything else, while I stood there. I'm not good around people who are throwing up. Something about the sound of it and the smell of it leaves me fighting not to throw up, too. I looked out across the field, trying to find something else to think about. Nothing was interesting enough, until I looked almost straight out from where I was standing. At first I thought it was a deadfall, a tree, but my eyes made more sense out of it, and I realized it was a person. A pale line of arm, one hand pointing skyward, as if it was propped on something I couldn't see. It didn't have to be a dead body. Someone could have come out here and passed out.
I looked back at Micah and Nathaniel, I motioned them over. Ronnie was starting to slow down. She'd reached the dry heaves, at least.
"Stay with her." I knew that by walking up to it, I might be destroying evidence, but I also knew that it could be a mannequin, or someone passed out. I had to be sure before I called in the cavalry. What did it say about my life that I thought dead, murder, before anything else? That I'd worked on homicides too long.
I walked through the dry grass, and I was moving slower, watching where I put my feet. The grass didn't make a sound against my jeans, because I was creeping along. If there was a weapon anywhere I didn't want to step on it.
The more I saw of the body, the more I thought, dead. The skin had that paleness in the distant halogen lights and the cold light of the stars. It was a man, lying on his back, with that one arm propped up against a dead tree branch. If the hand hadn't been propped up, I might not have seen it so quickly. Like the girl's hair at the first scene, someone had taken a little extra effort to say, hey, look at me. Yeah, it was a man instead of a woman, but he was wearing a leopard skin thong that had been pulled aside so we wouldn't miss the fact that he was shaved, very shaved. The chances of him not being a stripper that worked at Incubus Dreams were almost nil. Vegas wouldn't take those odds.
The fang marks on his neck were black against his skin. More at the bend of his arm, his wrist. I didn't touch him to move his head to see if he had matching marks on the other side of his neck. I didn't move his legs and see if they'd marked him low. I just squatted down beside him, trying not to touch the ground any more than I had to, and touched his arm. Yeah, I'd like to say I was searching for a pulse, but that wasn't really it. He was cold to the touch, but his arm moved when I pressed, oh so gently. Rigor had either not set in, or it had come and gone. Different things can affect that, but I was betting that he'd died earlier tonight. That they'd been killing him while we questioned Jonah Cooper at the Church of Eternal Life. Looking at the dead man, boy almost, he looked so young, I didn't feel so bad about killing Cooper. Funny.
I stood up and fished in my jacket pocket for my cell phone. I dialed a number I knew by heart.
"Zerbrowski here."
"I hope you're not at home," I said.
"Why?" and he sounded positively suspicious.
"Because I'm over the river and through the strip clubs, looking at another damn body."
"No one notified us."
"I'm notifying you."
"Are you telling me that you found the body?" he asked.
"Yep."
"Tell me what happened."
I told him a short version. I didn't leave out that the bartender had told Ronnie to get a ride home, just that she was shit-faced about breaking up with Louie. I left out the creepy couple, but that was it.
"Shit," he said, "I've got to call this in. The Staties or the local sheriff are going to get there before we do. The sheriff didn't like you much."