“No.” He put it behind his back and thanked God the lamplight was dim so she couldn’t see how red his face was getting.
She peered around him to see what he was hiding, and he weaved back-and-forth to block her. “I am sleeping in a sex room with a secret door,” she said. “Trust me, it can’t be that bad.”
“It’s not a sex room,” Wes said. “Those kinds of images were common in ancient Rome.”
“But not in twenty-first-century Canada, so let me see.” She held her hands out and waited, then rolled her eyes when he didn’t move. “Wes. Hand. It. Over.”
He bit his lip. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Nadine grabbed the record out of his hands. “Songs for Stripping,” she read. “‘Turn your lover on with these classics of the stripping arts. Instruction manual included.’” Wes looked at the album cover, which had a woman with platinum bouffant hair posing with a naughty grin and hands over her breasts. There were a lot of feathers. And garters. Nadine shook the album and peered inside. “The instruction manual is missing.”
“Too bad.”
She checked the back cover. “What are songs for stripping anyway?”
He knew what she was planning before she moved to the record player. “Don’t do it,” he warned. “Some things are better left unknown, and that includes Dot’s preferred nookie tunes.”
“Sounds like a dare.” She fiddled with the record player and put down the arm.
They stared at each other as the music started. “That’s more flute than I thought there’d be for stripping,” said Wes finally.
“And trumpet.” She shook her head. “My grade school band didn’t sound like this.”
“Is that a cowbell?” he asked.
They listened closer. “It is,” she said. “Sexy. I can see the tassel-covered pasties.”
“It reminds me of the burlesque show at Dilly’s,” Wes said.
“You go to drag brunch?”
“Of course,” he said, insulted. “They have bottomless mimosas, and Lady Kiki sings ABBA.”
Nadine laughed. “I’m sure they love you, all neat and tidy.” She cast him a wicked glance. “Ready to be unwrapped like a present.”
Was she flirting with him? He ran his finger around his collar, wondering if the room had gotten warmer. The saxophone played from the corner, and Nadine walked over to turn it off before he could think of a good reply.
“I don’t think there’s anything else here,” she said, stomping on the floor to check for trapdoors. They backed out and put the bed in place, clicking the locks firmly. Wes stared at the wall, and Nadine leaned against the canopy.
“You know,” she said. “I could use a drink.”
So could he. They headed to the kitchen as Murasaki and Octavia settled back on the bed.
***
Nadine bypassed the beer and wine they’d stocked in the kitchen to head straight to the drinks trolley in the salon. She took the crystal decanter and poured a hefty amount into an old-fashioned glass etched with an image of Balmoral Castle, then watched Wes do the same withHolyrood.
“Good bourbon,” he said, refilling his glass.
Nadine didn’t care what it was or about the quality, as long as it had the desired effect of soothing her fired-up nerves. Her initial shock of finding a hidden room behind her bed had transformed into a deep and unyielding curiosity about what other mysteries the house contained.
“You would think that would be something for Brent to mention in his handoff notes,” she said.
“He might not know,” said Wes as he paced the salon, drink in hand. “That room looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. God, what else could we find? A house with a hidden stripping room could have anything.” He sounded thrilled and began to look behind the paintings on the wall.
Nadine’s eyes fell on the copy of Miss Marple’s short stories. Dot had put the newspaper obit about the woman with the best buns in town between the pages, and she picked it up to read again. Wait. She recognized the story Dot had marked. “Wes.Wes.”
Wes turned from looking under a chair. “What’s up?”
