The Wedding Guest (Alex Delaware #34) - Jonathan Kellerman Page 0,35
was fun.”
She gave herself another long look. “I think they came out quite well.”
“Terrific.”
She nodded, sneezed, coughed. “Sorry, I’m not used to having people over when I’m feeling shitty. I get that itchy throat, I usually take zinc right away and it kind of works. But it also makes me super nauseated and I just got over a stomach flu so I figured I’d muscle this one out.”
She cleared her throat at high volume: grinding gears. “God, I sound like a wild pig.”
I said, “Hope you feel better soon.”
“That’s sweet. Thank you.”
“What did Susan say she was studying in school?”
“She never got that specific. Not to me, anyway. I don’t encourage chitchat. Show up, look hot, do your thing, keep the alcohol flowing and the cocks hard.”
“Was there another girl she might have confided in?”
“Not that I saw,” said Baca. “She wasn’t Miss Congenial, kind of kept to herself. I heard a couple of the other girls call her a snob. Actually, it was along the lines of ‘what a cold bitch.’ ”
“Do you remember who said that?”
“You’re kidding. We’re talking two years ago, maybe more. No one around then is working for me now. Even if they have the attention span, they make bad choices and age fast.”
Sliding a hand down her own sleek thigh, as if soliciting contradiction.
I said, “Did George Grumann ever take pictures of her?”
“Oh, no,” said Baca, smiling. “George has been gone for—I’m not going to tell you how long on the grounds it might incriminate me.” A beat. “He died twenty-two years ago. A year after he took my glams.”
“What else can you tell us about her?”
She shrugged. “Her street presence was drab. She’d show up for work in clothes designed to limpy-poo a cock. First time, I said to myself, this one has the bone structure and the bod but no clue, it’s not going to work out. But when she auditioned, she was tarted up the wazoo. Full-on makeup, smoky eyes, inch-long lashes, collection of not-bad wigs, fuck-me shoes, red micro-dress you could use for a handkerchief. When she got up on stage her dancing was different but actually pretty hot.”
“Different how?”
She loosened her hair, freed a cascade of ice. “What I just told you, smoldering not burning.”
“On the subtle side,” I said. “Wouldn’t think that would work.”
Consuela Elena Baca sighed. “You’re big boys so I’ll explain it in big-boy terms. It’s like with fucking, guys. You know how some women scream and thrash and make all those good noises, and others lie back with their eyes closed and this satisfied smile on their faces but they’re both sexy? Suzy was the second type. She’d get up and do this little side-to-side shuffle, even look a little bored. She’d start off staring at the floor then slowly she’d raise her eyes and make contact with losers in the front row. Suddenly everyone’s looking at her. Same thing with the pole. She’d take her sweet time getting with it and when she did, no acrobatics. More like she’s hugging it romantically. Stroking it.”
Licking her lips, she demonstrated. “Slo-ow. Not much in the way of calorie expenditure but there was something about her the clients dug. Maybe it was the holding back. Like in their monkey brains, pleasing her was some fantasy goal. That can be real sexy.”
Recrossing her legs, she offered a view of the other thigh. Shifted a bit more. No underwear. “Whatever it was, it worked. She did okay on tips and the booze flowed.”
Milo said, “She auditioned in a red dress.”
“All she ever wore was red,” said Baca. “It went great with her coloring, no argument from me. The bar bill’s rocking, you’re rocking.”
“Any idea where she got her clothes?”
She laughed. “These questions. We’re not talking designer stuff, guys. Probably Frederick’s, Trashy, Next to Naked, Stage Hollywood, one of those. Or a vintage place that specializes in body-conscious. This town, there’s no shortage of fuck-me rags.”
Milo scrawled rapidly. “We’re pretty ignorant about that stuff. Any other names you could give us?”
She rattled off several more shops. “You’re writing it down? You’re actually planning to visit each one of them?”
“All in the name of public service.”
“Well, enjoy your work.” She patted her nose. Cricked her neck and gave a low moan. “God, my joints—I need to rest, guys.”
I said. “Sure—just a couple more questions? Did Suzy have any regulars?”
“She didn’t stay long enough to build up a stable. We’re talking two nights a week for what, six, seven weeks?”