Page 60 of Passions in Death
More cheers when she tossed away her hat, and black curls cascaded free.
Eve figured her pole work in the tiny spangles reached gymnast level, maybe contortionist.
Bumps, grinds, backbends, spins, and twirls, and Eve figured for about a ten-minute routine, she’d pulled in easily two hundred in tips. Maybe three. At roughly six in the evening.
“Entertaining,” Roarke commented.
“Take off your clothes and people toss money at you. It’s weird.”
Since she’d already made security—the wide-shouldered man in the back in a black suit—she walked his way.
She held up her badge. “Lieutenant Dallas and civilian consultant, NYPSD. I need to speak with Ms. Lopez.”
“About Erin? I’m ChiChi’s cousin. Our abuela let me know you were coming. Have a seat—” He pointed to a booth. “Drinks on the house. I’ll tell my cousin.”
When he walked off, Eve shook her head. “More weird. His cousin gets naked onstage, and he doesn’t blink.”
“Just a job of work, Eve.”
“A job of work where the audience is getting boners over your cousin.”
“Plenty of women in here as well.”
“They get the female equivalent of a boner.”
She took a seat in the booth. “Stick with water, okay? We’re on the job.”
One of the nearly naked servers sidled up, gave Roarke a crystal clear eye fuck.
“Just water, please. Still.”
“Whatever you want.” She purred it. “I’m at your service.”
“Jesus,” Eve muttered as she hip-rocked away. “I’m sitting right here.”
Roarke just smiled. “So tell me, why are we here about to interrogate a very talented stripper?”
“Interview. The stripper was at the party, and at one time got naked with the victim.”
“I see.”
“The victim had a friend lined up to bring the case—with the costume, the tickets—into the club. But that friend had to go to Baltimore—sister in labor, blah blah—that’s confirmed, confirmed the friend never made the party at all. So Erin told the friend not to worry. She had backup.”
“You’re looking for the backup.”
“I’m looking for the backup,” she agreed, and gave him the bare bones while the nearly naked server brought their water, and they waited for ChiChi.
“A lot of legwork today,” Roarke concluded.
“Yeah, some eliminations, some maybes, and now with the Lopez family, possibly some expansions. And here she comes.”
ChiChi had changed into a black skin suit, cut nearly to her waist in the front. She’d left her hair down but had changed her stage heels for black sneakers.
There, Eve gave her points for sense.
She slid into the booth across from Eve and Roarke.
“Cops can make our clientele nervous.”
