protect the alibi?”
“If Newman and I don’t think the dancer is telling us everything she knows, then you and Edward can have a crack at her.”
“If there is a need to speak with the dancer later, I would prefer that you and I do it,” Olaf said.
In my head I thought, Hell no, but Edward saved me from saying it.
“Come on, Otto. You know what weapons can do to a human body, but Anita knows strippers.”
“I am engaged to two of them,” I said. I might have protested the teasing, but Edward was giving me an out with the big guy, and I was going to take it.
Olaf nodded. “Then each of us to our expertise.”
“Yeah, that,” I said, and then I started walking toward Newman’s Jeep like I had a purpose. We were trying to save a life after all. The fact that it also got me farther away from Olaf and all his strangeness was just a bonus.
60
NEWMAN OPENED THE door to the strip club like we were just customers. No one stopped us, or yelled, Cheese it, the cops, or really seemed to notice us at all. The interior of the club was so dark that even after we took off our sunglasses, it still took time for our eyes to adjust. At least there was no entry platform like in some bars where you were silhouetted against the light while you were blind to the room. That moment in some bars seemed like an invitation to get shot, but that was just my cop paranoia working overtime, sure. I’d never actually been attacked while standing and waiting for my eyes to adjust in a club, and today was no different. I still felt better when we could see well enough to move farther into the dim interior.
There was a dancer on the stage wearing a shiny G-string and those clear plastic heels that so many strippers seem fond of. Jean-Claude had banned them from Guilty Pleasures. He thought they looked cheap. I just thought they looked uncomfortable, but then so did most of the heels that dancers wore. The dancer was barely moving to the music, as if just showing up onstage topless was enough to get customers to throw money at her. It wouldn’t have been enough at Guilty Pleasures, but then, Jean-Claude helped his dancers put together acts for their routines. Some of them even had special choreography. If you were going to just gyrate to the music, your moves had to be athletic, well-done, and at least on time to the beat. The woman holding on to the pole in the middle of the stage was managing none of the three. Guilty Pleasures had really spoiled me for strip clubs.
The dark, faded interior of the club also made me miss the brighter, more upbeat atmosphere of Guilty Pleasures. Maybe if more owner-managers had started out as dancers, they’d pay more attention to the details, too. The bar was to the right as you entered the club, and the man behind it was inches taller than Newman, so at least six feet five or six. He was also twice as broad as Newman, and most of that was shoulder spread. He smiled at us like he meant it and said, “Bar’s open, and we have some daily specials. What’ll it be?”
I saw scar tissue on his knuckles as he handed us the menus. He’d either started as a bouncer and worked his way over to bartender and waitstaff, or he was a man of many talents. Since his fist was the size of my face, I’d try to make sure his talents didn’t get aimed in our direction.
Newman flashed his badge discreetly. “We just need to speak with one of your dancers briefly.” He smiled as he said it.
I just stood there, doing my best to look harmless. I’m usually pretty good at that, though admittedly the guns, blades, and body armor made it harder. Most people wouldn’t see all the gear on me, but the bartender flicked a gaze in my direction that let me know he’d noticed.
He kept smiling, but his eyes went cooler and considering. “You got a badge, too?” he asked.
I got mine out and showed it to him. He tried to touch it or maybe my hand, but I moved just out of reach.
“I’m just trying to get a better look at your badges, that’s all.”
I kept my badge out where he could stare at it.
He made a face