Read Online Skin by Patricia Rosemoor - Free Book Online Page A

ones watching quietly, their fertile, obscene minds planning overtime. He’d worked the job too many years to think anyone was exempt.
    “Classy place,” Frankie muttered, practically in his ear.
    “That’s why they call it a gentlemen’s club.”
    “How much to join?”
    “Keep your eyes in your head and your ears open,” Pucinski ordered, as a man who looked like he was in charge approached them.
    “Gentlemen, can I help you?”
    Pucinski gave the guy in the flowered shirt and expensive suit the once-over and figured he was in the game. “You the manager?”
    “Sal Ruscio.”
    “Detective John Pucinski.” He flashed his identification and nodded that DeSalvo should do the same. “And this is Detective Frank DeSalvo. We have some questions concerning The Hunter Case. About the women who were murdered.”
    “I’d rather we didn’t talk here. How about the office.” Ruscio stood back and indicated they precede him.
    Pucinski didn’t hurry. Let the guy sweat a little. Not that he figured the manager was guilty. At least not of murder. But why should he make anything easy for a well-heeled pimp.
    The office was as polished as the interior of the club. Nothing like the cop shop with its municipal green walls, heavy wood furniture and piles of paperwork. Everything was neat. In its place.
    Ruscio settled behind the streamlined desk. “Can I offer you gentleman a drink?”
    “We’re on duty,” DeSalvo said.
    “A soft drink, then? Cappuccino? Designer water?”
    “Plain answers would do it for me,” Pucinski said.
    “Of course you have my full cooperation.”
    “How well did you know Rosie Harriman?”
    “Know her?” Ruscio shrugged his wide shoulders. “She was a good employee. Always on time. Gave good service. No complaints.”
    DeSalvo said, “When you say gave good service–”
    “Drinks. She was a waitress and served drinks.”
    Pucinski flashed his young partner a look. When would he get it through his skull that he was backup. He turned back to the manager. “So no one had a problem with her.”
    “Obviously someone had a problem, or Rosie would be alive.”
    “What about her ? Did she have any complaints about a particular customer. ”
    Ruscio shook his head. “Not that I remember. You know, I went over this with the police before.”
    “Now you’re telling me, because now it’s my case. What about any of the other girls. They have any complaints about your patrons?”
    “C’mon, you know how guys are when they get a few drinks in them. So they’re a little grabby–”
    ”Ever bounce the same guy twice?” DeSalvo asked.
    Good question. Pucinski didn’t glower at him.
    “I don’t keep no records of these incidents.”
    But Pucinski would bet his pension that the bouncers remembered the troublemakers and kept an eye out for them.
    “Let’s talk about the second victim,” he said. “Anita Long.”
    “Didn’t know her. She didn’t work for me.”
    “She worked your club.”
    “If you say so,” Ruscio said, tone stiff. “I am unaware of any illegal activities taking place here, Detective. If I’d’a known, I woulda escorted her out personally.”
    “Sure you would have.” Before Ruscio had time to protest, Pucinski said, “But you are aware of the woman in question.”
    “I know who she is...was.”
    “Did she have any problems with your customers?”
    “If she did, she wouldn’t’ve told me. But it’s a moot point. You don’t know that this working girl’s death had any connection to this club, not any more than did Rosie’s.”
    “You keep thinking that way; and when the next girl dies, you tell me that again.”
    “Next girl?”
    Ruscio blanched, but Pucinski was certain it had to do with his wallet rather than his heart.
    “Three would certainly be the charm, don’t you think, Mr. Ruscio? The newspapers would put it together, the customers would get nervous, the dancers might quit. Not a pretty picture any way you slice it. Maybe you should