Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

glass sharply on the table.
    “Sounds like motive to me. If she told him to take a walk, he might have lost his temper—”
    “Or maybe Miss Tina stuck a shiv in her when she horned in on her territory,” Reggie interrupted.
    “Except she was strangled.”
    “Details. Maybe you can make it stick.”
    “So you got competition for the player?”
    Reggie nodded but wouldn’t answer.
    A dark-haired waiter with a big nose slid up to the table. “Can I get you a refill?” he sneered.
    “Yeah. Same again,” Reggie said through clenched teeth.
    The nasty number didn’t even glance my way, just picked up Reggie’s empty.
    “Excuse me,” I said, loud so the waiter couldn’t pretend he didn’t hear me.
    “I suppose you want a drink too,” he said with an exasperated sigh. I wasn’t quite sure he could even see me around the schnozz.
    “Like you care. What’s the name of the broad singing?”
    “Miss Tina? Don’t even start, you wouldn’t stand a chance with her,” the waiter said with a contemptuous smile.

    Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    33

    “Her?” Maybe he’d be more forthcoming if he knew she wasn’t pulling the wool over my eyes.
    He grimaced, which was maybe his idea of a smile to acknowledge my keen sense of observation. “She doesn’t go for pipsqueaks like you. She likes ’em big.”
    “I heard there was another singer. White dame—” Grudgingly, the waiter conceded that he was going to have to talk to me. “You’re too late. She was good and the boss was gonna make her a headliner, but she never came back.”
    “Do you know why?”
    “Do I look like the town crier?”
    “No, you look like an anteater.” I had the satisfaction of seeing the sneer on his face give way to confusion, if only for a moment, before the condescending expression came back. He hurried off to get Reggie’s refill.
    “I would have said possum,” Reggie commented.
    “What did I ever do to him?”
    “He’s always like that. Ignore him.”
    It was telling that Reggie didn’t laugh at my joke. He leaned forward, his eyes as cold as black ice. “Jazz didn’t do it. He’s not a killer. He wouldn’t do something like that.”
    “Jazz?”
    “My—the guy on piano.”
    “Proof?”
    “No proof. I just know him.”
    “You’re a cop, you know better. I can see the D.A. now, taking your feelings as evidence. Does he have an alibi?” Reggie shrugged helplessly. “I can’t check it out. Maybe you can.”
    “His name is Jazz what?”

    34

    CATT FORD

    “Jazz Morgan.”
    “And he works here—”
    “Shut up!”
    A hand fell on my shoulder, and I looked up into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.
    “Good evening, gentlemen. Everything all right here?” Reggie was nodding, and I wondered how he could stay so calm.
    The man whose hand rested on my shoulder was more than good-looking. Slim and smart in his suit, but built. I could see the muscles move under the fabric. And his face was gorgeous. He could have given any movie star a run for his money, and he was staring right at me with a quizzical look on his face.
    I kept it suave. “Yeah—things are—just great! Fine! A—a nice place—you have here—”
    The man took pity on me. Dimples dug deep into his cheeks as he flashed a grin, showing off his pearly whites. “Is this your first time here, Mr.—er—”
    Put on the spot like that, I didn’t have time to make up an alias. I admit it, I was flustered, and being caught by surprise like that, my mouth may have been hanging open until I remembered to shut it. It wasn’t good business to get known as a private dick with an interest in dick. Besides, he seemed straight as a board.
    While I was deciding, Reggie helpfully piped up. “His name’s Randall, a friend of mine from the service,” he announced with a malicious smile.
    The beautiful man stifled a snicker, still holding out his hand to me. We shook.
    Sparks. It was electric, just feeling his hand in mine. Or maybe I should say, mine in his. His hand was big, strong and warm as it closed around mine. I struggled to meet his grip without letting out a sound.
    Like a needy gasp. He was so hot I almost melted out of my seat.
    “Randall. That suits you,” he smirked at me.
    If I weren’t used to the undercover gig, I might have given away Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    35

    the show, but as it is, I think I carried it off with a lot of cool. “Um—
    yes—it’s my