A Body to die for

dead people before, some in worse shape than baked Barney. That’s not to say I’ve gotten used to it. Poor Jack chugged his Virgin Mary and shivered in his damp shirt. “This helps, Jack,” I said, and handed him the bottle of brandy. He drank greedily—not the chug of a novice belter—and passed the bottle back. He smacked his lips. “Yeah, Jack,” I said. “Sure is a good thing we found the body together. If only this gave you an alibi.”
    “What do you mean?” he asked, concerned. “How could I have killed Barney if I was with you?”
    “From the look of him, he’d been in the drink for a few hours. And if my short-term memory serves, we hooked up less than an hour ago.” Jack’s mouth dropped wide open. I could have flipped a few match-books in there. “And you were dripping wet when I first saw you. With sweat, maybe. But I can’t imagine a murderer stabbing someone in a Jacuzzi and not getting soaked.”
    “You’ve been right all night, Wanda,” he said gravely. “But you’re wrong now.”
    “And your shirt. Pink with bloody water, or did you wash it with new red jeans?”
    “What red jeans?” he asked.
    “The point I’m making is that tracking me down on the Promenade—or lucking out and finding me there —is not going to do a damn thing for your alibi. In fact, if I were a cop”—a horrifying thought—“I’d put you on top of my list.” Jack’s jaw slackened. He stuttered a bit, which didn’t flatter him, but his face and body took care of that anyway.
    “Here, have a cigarette while we wait,” I suggested. We both lit up. My first cigarette in months. Disgusting, but swell.
    Jack huffed and puffed, panicked. “After giving you three thousand dollars in cash,” he said, “I’m surprised you’d threaten me like this.”
    “This isn’t a threat, Jack. I’m giving you fair warning to get yourself together for the cops.” I took a drag. “They should be here any second.” I had no idea what I was trying to do. I’d never give him an alibi for free. I didn’t think I would for money either, definitely not for a measly three grand. I suppose I was looking j for some clue that Jack didn’t wield anything more fatal than a tennis racket. I reminded myself that it was I who had pressed him to come up here tonight.
    Jack sighed. “I’ll understand if you want to leave. I hired you to find out about Barney and Ameleth. And as you said, I don’t have to worry about that anymore.” His lower lip held firm. “So I’ll take that money back now, if you don’t mind. Keep a couple hundred for your time.”
    I considered it. Bolt now, pay in the next lifetime. Before I could make up my mind, the elevator whoosh drew my attention away. I dropped the cigarette in the empty Virgin Mary glass and turned to face the symphony. The doors slammed open. The crowd ] inside the car included Janey, the plastic wonder from downstairs, and about five cops, uniform and brown bag. I wondered who was minding the club, but then, the building was probably sealed. The entourage flooded the suite.
    A female detective seemed to be in charge. “Body?” she asked, flashing her wallet badge. Her ghostly voice spoke of many cigarettes long gone. Her skin was sallow, her hair wavy and thinning but a nice shade of brown. Her body was as dumpy as a truck. She hovered near forty years. Jack and I pointed toward the Jacuzzi door. She directed the uniforms to guard the entrance.
    Janey bounced to Jack’s side. Her Lycra uniform seemed vacuum packed. “I called Ameleth at home,” she told Jack.
    “Was she there?” he asked.
    Janey nodded. “What’s going on?”
    The cop with the skirt cleared her throat as loudly as possible as she exited the Jacuzzi. “I’m Detective Falcone,” she said, shaking all our hands. “Eighteenth Precinct. Homicide. I’m in charge here. Are any of you related to the deceased?” We shook our heads.
    Jack and Janey explained who they were. Falcone asked who I was. I gave her one of my brand-new business cards—the one with the Uzi and roses design.
    I said, “Mallory, Wanda Mallory. I’m working on a case for Jack Watson.” I pointed at Jack.
    “What case?” she asked.
    I tsked. “Client confidentiality, Detective, private dicks are like priests or shrinks, you know?” I went on to offer her information on the hour we arrived; Barney’s role at the club; my relationship with Jack; his relationship with Barney. My relationship with Barney. I’d seen