Catch a Falling Knife

sure Lefty would be glad to see you again.”
    A look that might have been panic briefly crossed Donna’s face. It passed, but she remained silent for a bit. When she spoke her voice was soft. “I did it for her,” she said. “I did it for Elise. Mr. Hoffman was so into this morality thing with strip clubs that I couldn’t let him remember his daughter as a stripper.”
    “So Elise was the Shooting Star and not you?” Detective Johnson demanded.
    Donna nodded, almost imperceptibly.
    Detective Johnson turned to Burt and me. “Out,” he said. Both of you, out. I want to talk to her alone.”

Chapter 23
     
    “But I had a lot of questions to ask her,” I said from the back seat as Burt pulled away from the curb.
    “Let Detective Johnson do his job,” Burt said, laughing. “At least give the poor guy a chance. He’s not going to be very cooperative if you take over the case from him.”
    “What’s happening?” Mark asked, sleepily from the passenger seat in front. He had been dozing when we returned to the car, not having had much sleep in jail.
    “Lillian proved that Donna wasn’t the Shooting Star,” Burt said. “Elise was the Shooting Star.”
    “Oh,” Mark said, trying to grasp the significance of this information. “That means…”
    “That means Elise danced at Club Cavalier the night she died. She couldn’t have been out with you.”
    Mark whistled. “Lillian, I owe you one.”
    “You’re not out of the woods yet,” I said. “Donna can still contend that she saw your car drive away when she came home from wherever she was that evening. That’s something we’ve got to find out.”
    “Hopefully, Detective Johnson will find that out,” Burt said. “Donna isn’t going to stand in line to talk to you again soon.”
    “How did Elise get to and from Club Cavalier if she didn’t own a car?” Mark asked. “If somebody drove her home, isn’t it possible that person is the murderer?”
    “It’s certainly possible,” Burt said. “If not, that person may have been the last to see Elise alive, aside from the murderer, that is. And Elise may have smoked some weed with him…or her, which means they knew each other pretty well.”
    “I’d like to talk to the guy who owns Club Cavalier,” Mark said.
    Burt glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to be getting back to the office.” He stopped for a red light. “On the other hand, Lillian probably saved me several days’ work by uncovering Donna’s lie about the Shooting Star. If I can make a couple of phone calls, I should be all right. How do we get to Club Cavalier?”
    “Turn right at the next corner,” Mark and I said, in unison.
    We arrived at Club Cavalier in under five minutes. Bethany is not a big place. The parking lot was almost empty. I warned Burt that if he parked in the lot he might find his license plate number on the Internet, but he just laughed. He parked the Lexus and made a couple of calls on his cell phone while Mark and I waited outside the car.
    “I won’t ask you if you’ve ever been in a place like this,” I said.
    Mark chuckled. “In my misspent youth I did a lot of things. And I’m not sure I’ve outgrown my misspent youth.”
    Burt joined us and said, “This looks high class compared to some of the dumps I’ve seen. But hey, this is a college town and everything is high class.”
    Music blared as Mark opened the door. One of the dancers gyrated onstage. I hoped the men wouldn’t be embarrassed by having me with them. The usual guy was selling tickets, but if he recognized me he didn’t let on. I yelled at him, “We need to talk to Lefty,” hoping to avoid paying the cover charge.
    He yelled something back; I assumed he was asking my name so I said, “I’m Lillian, the friend of the Shooting Star.”
    This seemed to impress him. At least he picked up the phone and had a brief shouted conversation, which I couldn’t hear. Then he motioned for us to follow him. Our path took us near the stage. I recognized the blond dancer as the girl named Cherub. She did some impressive things with the pole, but she didn’t have the fluid movements of the Shooting Star. Perhaps nobody would ever be that good again.
    Our guide led us through the doorway into the area where they did the lap-dances. I saw some movement coming from one of the cubicles and averted my eyes. Burt and Mark had lingered slightly behind, watching Cherub. I hurried past the lap-dancer, who gyrated on some invisible man inside the