Read Online Amaretto Amber (Franki Amato Mysteries Book 3) by Traci Andrighetti - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Traci Andrighetti
Ads: Link
causing her double and triple chins to bulge. "Amber felt like bad things had been happening to her since she'd quit Madame Moiselle's, and she was getting really paranoid and superstitious about it."
"Can you give us some examples?" I pressed.
"Nothing specific. But I noticed that she'd started carrying around good luck charms, wearing talismans, things like that."
Veronica nodded. "You've given us some great information. We'll start by questioning the employees at Madame Moiselle's, and we'll check with Dr. Lessler to find out whether he saw or heard anything unusual during Amber's appointment. We'll be in touch in a few days."
Carnie rose to her feet. "I've got a show in an hour." She offered her baseball mitt-sized hand, bending daintily at the wrist. "You've been so kind."
I noticed that she didn't extend the same courtesy to me, but no matter. Because as Veronica saw her out, my mind was already fixated on Amber's superstitious side. And I wondered what, if anything, it had to do with the bizarre murder scene at the club.
* * *
I stepped inside Madame Moiselle's at a quarter after eleven and stopped dead in my tracks.
Glenda stood before me dressed like a stripper Sherlock Holmes.
"Howdy, partner," she exclaimed, adjusting her deerstalker cap.
"You're wearing the wrong hat for that greeting," I said, trying to hide my inner panic as I took in the tiny cape cropped well above her magnifying glass-shaped pasties. "Is that tweed?"
"Yeah, and it's itchier than poison ivy on your privates, so I had to make a costume change." To my dismay, she spun around to reveal her bony buttocks protruding from the round holes she'd cut from the seat of her boyshorts. But on the bright side, she'd left the crotch intact.
"Well, I guess that about took care of it," I said, scanning the club to avoid checking out her cheeks. "Is the manager in yet?"
Mercifully, she turned back around. "Eugene? He's at the police station. Our bartender, Carlos, is in charge until he gets back."
I glanced to my right. "I don't see anyone at the bar."
"He's probably upstairs in the office. I'll take you up there."
Instead of leading me to the VIP Champagne Room staircase, Glenda led me past the main stage, and I noticed that the crime scene had been cleared.
Keeping my eyes fixed on the back of her head rather than on her backside, I asked, "Hey, do you know where the bathtub came from?"
"From the prop room," she replied, pointing to a door behind the stage. "It belonged to Lili St. Cyr."
"Who's that?"
Glenda turned and looked at me like I'd snapped her bra strap (if she'd been wearing one). "None other than the creator of bathtub burlesque, sugar."
As soon as she uttered the phrase, I wondered whether Amber had been recreating a sexy bathing routine for a lover who ultimately killed her.
"In the 1940s and '50s," Glenda continued, "Lili was as famous as Gypsy Rose Lee. Then she retired and ran a well-known lingerie business. Her deep plunge bra made Elvira a superstar. And on top of all that, she even got a mention in The Rocky Horror Picture Show ."
"That's, uh, quite a list of credentials."
"You can say that again," she said, strutting toward a staircase in the corner. "When Lili passed in 1999, Madame Moiselle's started the 'Wash the Girl of Your Choice' service to honor her memory."
I started to say one of the usual clichés like "she would have been so proud," but I got distracted trying to envision how a client would wash a stripper when the club had a strict no-touching-the-merchandise policy.
Glenda pushed open a door marked Strippers and Staff Only and shot up the staircase in her gun-heel boots.
I climbed a few steps, and my message tone sounded. Grateful for the excuse to take a break, I pulled my phone from my bag and saw that the text was from Bradley.
" What's going on? Why didn't you return my call last night ?"
My stomach did a belly flop. I should've called him back, but the past couple of days had
"Can you give us some examples?" I pressed.
"Nothing specific. But I noticed that she'd started carrying around good luck charms, wearing talismans, things like that."
Veronica nodded. "You've given us some great information. We'll start by questioning the employees at Madame Moiselle's, and we'll check with Dr. Lessler to find out whether he saw or heard anything unusual during Amber's appointment. We'll be in touch in a few days."
Carnie rose to her feet. "I've got a show in an hour." She offered her baseball mitt-sized hand, bending daintily at the wrist. "You've been so kind."
I noticed that she didn't extend the same courtesy to me, but no matter. Because as Veronica saw her out, my mind was already fixated on Amber's superstitious side. And I wondered what, if anything, it had to do with the bizarre murder scene at the club.
* * *
I stepped inside Madame Moiselle's at a quarter after eleven and stopped dead in my tracks.
Glenda stood before me dressed like a stripper Sherlock Holmes.
"Howdy, partner," she exclaimed, adjusting her deerstalker cap.
"You're wearing the wrong hat for that greeting," I said, trying to hide my inner panic as I took in the tiny cape cropped well above her magnifying glass-shaped pasties. "Is that tweed?"
"Yeah, and it's itchier than poison ivy on your privates, so I had to make a costume change." To my dismay, she spun around to reveal her bony buttocks protruding from the round holes she'd cut from the seat of her boyshorts. But on the bright side, she'd left the crotch intact.
"Well, I guess that about took care of it," I said, scanning the club to avoid checking out her cheeks. "Is the manager in yet?"
Mercifully, she turned back around. "Eugene? He's at the police station. Our bartender, Carlos, is in charge until he gets back."
I glanced to my right. "I don't see anyone at the bar."
"He's probably upstairs in the office. I'll take you up there."
Instead of leading me to the VIP Champagne Room staircase, Glenda led me past the main stage, and I noticed that the crime scene had been cleared.
Keeping my eyes fixed on the back of her head rather than on her backside, I asked, "Hey, do you know where the bathtub came from?"
"From the prop room," she replied, pointing to a door behind the stage. "It belonged to Lili St. Cyr."
"Who's that?"
Glenda turned and looked at me like I'd snapped her bra strap (if she'd been wearing one). "None other than the creator of bathtub burlesque, sugar."
As soon as she uttered the phrase, I wondered whether Amber had been recreating a sexy bathing routine for a lover who ultimately killed her.
"In the 1940s and '50s," Glenda continued, "Lili was as famous as Gypsy Rose Lee. Then she retired and ran a well-known lingerie business. Her deep plunge bra made Elvira a superstar. And on top of all that, she even got a mention in The Rocky Horror Picture Show ."
"That's, uh, quite a list of credentials."
"You can say that again," she said, strutting toward a staircase in the corner. "When Lili passed in 1999, Madame Moiselle's started the 'Wash the Girl of Your Choice' service to honor her memory."
I started to say one of the usual clichés like "she would have been so proud," but I got distracted trying to envision how a client would wash a stripper when the club had a strict no-touching-the-merchandise policy.
Glenda pushed open a door marked Strippers and Staff Only and shot up the staircase in her gun-heel boots.
I climbed a few steps, and my message tone sounded. Grateful for the excuse to take a break, I pulled my phone from my bag and saw that the text was from Bradley.
" What's going on? Why didn't you return my call last night ?"
My stomach did a belly flop. I should've called him back, but the past couple of days had
Similar Books
