Charlotte put her hand on Mariska’s. “Only if we have to. We don’t want to mess up her insurance. If it looks like they’re going to go after Crystal or you, we will. I think they’ve already chalked it up as an accident.”
“But it wasn’t an accident.”
“No. It was a Christmas wish you made come true for Alice. She’d done all she could for Crystal. A little money and the chance to start afresh was the best gift she could give her granddaughter, and you helped her do it.”
“I hope Crystal appreciates it.” Mariska pulled a tissue from her housedress pocket and blew her nose.
Charlotte nodded. “And I hope she breaks up with Mark.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Declan scratched at the tape Charlotte had stuck to his chest to hold the tiny recorder hidden beneath his shirt. It was already pulling at his skin.
“You know this is going to rip all the hair off my chest when we’re done.”
“You’re a swimmer. Aren’t you supposed to shave down?”
He sighed. “Always looking on the positive side. I can’t believe they still tape mics to people like in old FBI movies.”
Charlotte chuckled. “I’m sure they don’t, but this was the best technology I could afford. I bought it from a friend of Tilly’s and he isn’t cheap.”
He looked past her at the Alleycats dance club, where people had lined up to get inside. He hadn’t been to a club in what felt like a million years, and he didn’t like them then. He swallowed.
“I can’t go to a club alone. I’m a guy.”
“Why not? You want to meet girls, right? Isn’t that the point?”
“First of all, girls is sort of the operative word. Most of the people I’m seeing go in there look like they’re twenty.”
“You’re still in your twenties.”
“Barely. And they don’t like to let men in. They want the girls. Not some guy with no friends. I’ll look like some old creeper.”
Charlotte laughed and pulled her polo over her head to reveal a sparkling tank top beneath. “That’s why I’m going in with you.”
Declan felt a wave of relief crash over him. “Whew. Why didn’t you say so?”
“I like watching you sweat. You have no problem marching into the jungle with an AK-47 under your arm but the idea of going into a club alone terrifies you.”
“First off, it was an M16, not an AK.”
“Sorry. That was totally the point. You got me.”
“So why do you need me at all?”
“Because Lyndsey isn’t going to talk to me. She knows I’m a detective working for Mina and even if she didn’t, I’m still some chick. I’m not who she came to meet tonight.”
Declan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think she came to meet me either.”
“She should be so lucky.” She tapped him on the shoulder. “And she’s about to be.”
Declan and Charlotte left the car and headed for the bouncer manning the door. Luckily, what had looked like a line had only been a temporary backup while the burly man checked people’s licenses. Declan had thought it a little odd that any place close to Charity could have a New York-like lineup. Almost as odd as hearing there was a club within a fifty-mile radius at all.
They stepped inside as the throbbing music bounced through their bodies.
“A heebee bajar!” screamed Charlotte.
He leaned close to her. “What?”
“I see her at the bar,” she repeated directly in his ear.
Ah. That makes more sense.
Rimmed with young men and women, the bar glowed with blue under-edge lighting. Declan spotted a woman who looked the most like the girl Charlotte had described to him.
“In the red top?” he screamed back at her.
Charlotte nodded. “I’m going to hide over here,” she said, pointing to the corner. “Go do your magic.”
He grimaced. “I feel like you’re my pimp.”
“You see a gimp?”
“No, I said—nevermind. I’m going.”
Declan made his way through the crowd and squeezed between Lyndsey and another woman who was busy talking to a man on the opposite side of her. Lyndsey seemed alone, using the bar to keep herself propped up more than anything else. He motioned to the bartender.
“Bourbon, neat.”
The bartender poured the caramel-colored liquor into a glass without looking at it and pushed it towards him.
“That’ll be fifteen dollars.”
Yikes. For rail bourbon?
Declan slid a twenty-dollar bill across the bar. “Keep it.”
The bartender nodded once and kept moving.
Declan took a sip, pondering the best way to make Lyndsey notice his presence when, unprompted, she turned to flash him a lopsided smile. Her eyelids didn’t open all the way.
“Your girlfriend drinks bourbon?” she asked.
Subtle.
“It isn’t for my girlfriend. It’s for me.” Declan tried to smile as broadly as possible and then worried his joker’s grin might make him look like a crazy person. He cleared his throat and toned it down a notch.
Lyndsey turned on her barstool to better face him. “What does she drink?”
“Who?”
“Your girlfriend?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have one. I’m Declan.” He held out his hand to shake and she accepted it.
“Lyndsey. You’re here by yourself?”
Think. Why is she alone? Her friends might have left. Try and commiserate.
“I came with buddies but I think they abandoned me.”
Lyndsey grinned, seeming genuinely pleased. “Same thing happened to me. My friend left with a guy who looked like some kind of eighties throwback.”
He chuckled and glanced toward the corner of the room. Charlotte had started dancing with a group of strangers, but her eyes were locked on him. She gave him a thumbs up as if it were part of her dance routine and he laughed.
“What’s so funny?” asked Lyndsey.
Whoops.
“Nothing. I mean, I was picturing the eighties guy you mentioned. You’re
