Catch a Falling Knife

those eyes if I saw them, but the Star’s eyes were always covered. When she came in here I told her to go play dress-up someplace else because she looked ridiculous. But she bugged me to give her a chance. I usually have the girls strip for me so I can see what kind of bodies they have, but I could see there wasn’t any point with her. She didn’t have anything up here.”
    He cupped his hands over imaginary breasts. “I let her go on during the afternoon when the place was empty so she wouldn’t get stage fright. I figured she’d chicken out, anyway, either before or after. But she had the moves and she exuded such charisma that the few guys who were here loved her immediately. She had ‘em inside her g-string right from the start. So of course she was hooked. No girl can resist that kind of power.”
    “So she packed them in,” Wesley said.
    “Yeah, word got around. Look, I’m in this to make a buck, so what am I supposed to do, show her the door just because she’s got idiosyncrasies? She wanted to be paid in cash, she wouldn’t give me her phone number, but she always showed up when she said she would—until last night. So what’s your connection to her?”
    Lefty looked at me. I decided to be partially honest. “She was taking a class from my granddaughter’s boyfriend. He teaches at Crescent Heights. It’s a long story, but he’s a suspect in her murder and I’m trying to clear him.”
    “Did he do it?”
    “No.”
    “That’s tough. What can I do to help?”
    “First, I suspect the police are going to want to talk to you. A Detective Johnson is handling this case.”
    “Johnson. I think I know him. He must have got promoted. He used to drive a patrol car. All right, I can handle him.”
     “Did she have any enemies here?”
    “No. But she didn’t have any friends, either. Never stuck around long enough for anybody to get to know her. She always came in costume, wearing that damned mask. And she’d leave after each show, even if she was going on again the same night.”
    “How about the patrons? Do you think anyone might have been stalking her?”
    “Not as far as I know. She never complained. Like I said, after each show she’d charge out of here like she had to catch a plane. I guess she had a car down the street. At least, she never parked in the lot.”
    Speaking of the parking lot rang a bell. “Are you familiar with a website on the Internet that posts the license plate numbers of patrons of the clubs here in Bethany?”
    A broad grin lit up Lefty’s face, making his mouth wider than ever. “You mean the site that old guy Hoffman maintains? That guy is a piece of work. But he’s good for business. The young dudes brag about getting their plates on his site.”
    Talk about unintended consequences.
    “He’s the father of Elise.”
    “No.” Lefty looked dumbfounded. “You’re shittin’ me. If he knew about her dancing here…”
    “He would have killed her? I’m going to look into that possibility.”
    “Look, if there’s anything I can do to help you, let me know. I’m sorry the Shooting Star bought it. I liked that girl, in spite of her idiosyncrasies. She had guts.”

Chapter 13
     
    “How long did you wait the other day?”
    Wesley was clearly getting restless, and because he had insisted on driving I couldn’t hold him here against his will. We were sitting in his car across the street from Elise’s apartment, waiting for Donna Somerset. I wanted to express my condolences to her. “Let’s wait ten more minutes and then we’ll go.”
    We only had to wait five more minutes. Donna’s car pulled to a stop directly in front of the apartment. I was thankful we were in Wesley’s car because she wouldn’t recognize it, and I was on the passenger side, where she couldn’t see me. I decided not to accost her in the middle of the street, but waited until she had entered the apartment. Then I followed her to the door, telling Wesley to wait for me. The broken front window was covered by a brown packing box that had been flattened out.
    Donna opened the door at my ring, looked at me and said, “It’s you. What are you doing here?”
    “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Elise,” I said. “My name is Lillian Morgan, by the way.”
    “Did the police talk to you?” She looked ready to close the door in my face.
    “Yes, I talked to Detective Johnson. I confirmed what you told him, that I was here on Wednesday. I don’t know if you know it or