"We try to find who killed your wife.”
"Well, I'd like to be kept in the loop."
It seemed like a bit of an odd request since they weren't exactly on the best of terms. "Sure. I'll let you know the minute we’ve got something solid."
It raised my suspicions a little. Killers often liked to insert themselves into the investigation or stay close. Some of them got a kick out of it. Others wanted to keep tabs on things in case the investigation headed the wrong way.
JD and I walked back to the parking lot, and I called Sarah Dalton.
The phone rang a few times, then went to voicemail. I left a message and asked her to return the call.
We hopped into the Porsche, and Jack fired up the engine. The next stop was to find Hannah. She had as much motive as anybody.
I called Isabella. She tracked Hannah's phone and told me where we could find her. After all Hannah had been through, I wasn't terribly surprised by her new place of employment.
We left the marina and drove up to Oyster Avenue. We parked in the lot behind Forbidden Fruit and hustled around to the main entrance. Sultry music pumped through massive speakers as westepped inside. I flashed my badge at the cashier, and she waved us in.
The place had a good crowd for the lunch buffet.
Stunning vixens pranced the stage, and spotlights slashed the hazy air. Exotic beauties tantalized with all-natural endowments. Men showered girls with their paychecks. The smell of the buffet wafted through the air, mixed with the smell of spilled beer, whiskey, and cheap perfume.
The buffet was surprisingly good.
You could get everything from hamburgers, grilled chicken, grilled salmon, fried shrimp, sirloin, and more. It wasn’t the Five Fathoms, but you weren’t really paying for the food. The view was unmatched.
Jacko leaned against the bar, surveying his domain. He spotted us as we entered and waved us over.
He was an old-school New Yorker with dark hair, a slick suit, and a gold chain that dangled around his neck. He greeted us with a warm smile and a handshake. "Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
"How's business?" I asked.
Jacko smiled. "Business is good. How about you?”
“Somebody’s always killing somebody.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” he said with a dismayed head shake. “What can I do for you?”
"Looking for Hannah Forsyth. I don’t know what stage name she goes by.”
Jacko scanned the floor. “I don’t see her.”
“She’s here.”
“Yeah, I know. She’s probably in the back. I think she’s up next on stage. Why don't you guys have a seat, make yourselves comfortable? I'll have one of the girls send her over after she performs. Can I get you a drink?"
"Not while we’re on the job, but thank you."
“Job, schmob,” he teased with a grin. “Make sure you get something to eat.”
We meandered through the club and took a seat at a table not far from the main stage. We decided to take him up on the offer and grabbed lunch while we were here. We dished up plates and chowed down on cheeseburgers. A waitress in a miniskirt and fishnets brought over two diet sodas, compliments of the house.
It wasn’t long before the DJ boomed, “Please welcome to the main stage, Alexis!”
He spun up a new tune, and Hannah strutted onstage in frilly black lingerie with a garter belt and thigh-high stockings.
Heart beats elevated. Testosterone surged.
Hannah was a heartbreaker, alright. The spotlight hit her porcelain skin and highlighted her flat midriff, svelte figure, and perky attributes. Her crimson hair hung in a bob just above her shoulders, and her emerald eyes sparkled.
