Murder at The Blues Stop Read online

  And if he tried, surely someone would be brave enough to intervene.

  The real truth was I’d been itching to get my arms around him ever since I’d seen him touching my underwear the other night. Dancing with him might be the only way that particular fantasy would ever come true. “Come on, Shane, I need a partner.”

  To my surprise, without a word of protest, he stalked over and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me in so tight I let out a squeak. I half expected we’d be doing that dance from Mr. And Mrs. Smith where Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie nearly knocked each other senseless by bumping into walls, tables, and everything else imaginable, trying to cause each other bodily harm. But that didn’t happen.

  Instead, tantalizing whiffs of aftershave mingled with soap and mint tickled my nose. A not-from-the-cold shiver slid along my spine, sending out all kinds of messages to parts of my body that shouldn’t have been paying attention, but were.

  “What are you up to?” His voice sounded strained and hoarse, as if he was fighting for control.

  I tried to sound flippant despite the fact my hormones bounced around inside like ping pong balls. “It’s called fun. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

  His lips hovered outside my ear. “Do not test me,” he growled even as he drew me tighter, giving me a serious case of mixed messages. Despite the gruffness in his tone, the movement of his body and the territorial placement of his arms told a different story. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Shane found me attractive. But just as the thought entered my head, it disappeared when he grumbled, “We’ll talk later.” Seconds later, he stalked off the dance floor, leaving me openmouthed and more than a little confused.

  Could he fire me over some music in-between sets? Maybe. Possibly. Potentially. I’d worry about that later. Right now, I was more than a little pleased to see several other couples had joined us on dance floor. Funny, but while Shane and I were dancing, I hadn’t noticed.

  ***

  I didn’t have to encourage people to come onto the dance floor in-between the next few sets which had to mean my experiment had worked, despite Shane’s wish to the contrary.

  Most of the folks had opted to stay between sets translating to an additional drink or two in revenue. Shane should be applauding my genius idea. Maybe he’d even give me a raise.

  As I considered that fantasy, I headed toward the guy I’d brought onto the dance floor to get the ball rolling in the first place. “Thanks for the dance earlier. I needed to get the audience up and out of their seats, and you were my guinea pig.”

  “No problem.” The guy nodded and glanced toward the bar. “Doesn’t seem like the bartender is too happy with the music though.”

  “Pay him no mind. He was born cranky.” I couldn’t help but notice Shane’s expression appeared more surly than usual. Maybe I needed to rethink that wistful thought about a raise.

  “Since we’ve already had our first dance, I’d better introduce myself.” He pointed to his chest. “I’m Patrick. And this is Nick. We’re Chicago cops.” Easing into a smile, he brought his hands around his mug of beer and smiled. “You’re a great singer.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad you stopped in tonight.”

  He glanced around the room. “But your talent is wasted at a dump like this. I could probably get you hooked up at one of the other places in town. If you’re lucky and there’s a few open spots, maybe Legends.”

  I blinked. Only the crème de la crème sang at Buddy Guy’s Legends. Either this guy was blowing smoke, or he really had some connections. He tunneled into his pocket and pulled out a card, stuffing it into my palm. “Your bartender is making me anxious. Why don’t you give me a call, and we can talk without interruptions?” After that, he stood and walked out the door.

  I couldn’t help but notice Shane’s death stare followed Patrick and Nick out the door.

  ***

  Donna and I were in the dressing room gathering our things after the last set of the night. I fessed up to being a little anxious after seeing Shane’s reaction earlier.

  Donna shook her head. “Are you kidding? The music in-between sets was a genius idea. People hung around which meant they bought more drinks. I’m pretty sure it’s the busiest I’ve seen the place in a long time which makes me think that word must have gotten out about you.” Donna picked up her keys and purse.

  “I think Shane’s too stubborn to see that kind of logic.” I chewed my lip, worried that I might have overstepped my boundaries.

  Donna shrugged. “Don’t let him bother you. He doesn’t like owning a bar let alone being here. That’s what his grumpiness is about more than anything else.”

  I wished I could believe that, but somehow it felt much more personal. “I don’t think he likes me.” Chewing on my lip, I contemplated the idea of asking Donna for a ride home, even though, if I understood the geography of the area, my apartment was out of her way. On the other hand, the last thing I wanted to do was be in a car with Shane right now.

  Donna retrieved a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse. “Actually, I think it’s the opposite. I suspect it’s the reason he hangs around so much now. Your free spirit and beauty intrigue him, and it ticks him off. In case you haven’t noticed, the man thrives on being in control.”

  “Being attracted to me makes him feel out of control?” I squeaked. This was something I hadn’t contemplated. Sure, I flirted with him. But I never got the sense that he responded to me in a sexual way…well…except for that slow dance that felt much more intimate than I’d anticipated.

  She nodded. “I would venture to say it freaks him out.”

  We walked together out of the room, my mind still reeling with what Donna had said.

  Shane was wiping down the bar and glanced up. “Wait inside, Gabriella. I’ll walk Donna to her car before I take you home.”

  My senses tingled. Normally, the three of us walked out together. Why the sudden change in protocol? Maybe he wanted to apologize to me in private. Or maybe he’d decided to give me a raise after all. Then again, wouldn’t he discuss that with me on the ride home?

  As I thought through the possibilities ranging from optimistic to terrifying, Shane returned. The rigidity of his jaw had me speculating he might pop the bone. His expression didn’t bode well for me.

  “You’re fired,” he grumbled, his lips barely moving as he spoke.

  “What? You can’t do that.” I’d anticipated a go-around with him, but not this. “We have a contract.”

  “Screw the contract. I’ll buy you out.” His normal scowl had morphed into something downright ominous. I’d clearly pushed a button that had been off-limits, and he intended to make me pay for it.

  “I don’t want to be bought out.” I tried to regain my composure, unable to fathom the idea that I’d been fired. Never…in…my life…what did this…stubborn mule think…NOPE. Not on my watch. “Why are you getting so bent out of shape because of music? Do you have something against people having a good time?” His intimidating scowl didn’t scare me. Going home with my tail between my legs did. I couldn’t let that happen. Instead, I mimicked his stance. “We don’t have to like each other. We can ignore each other for all I care. But you’ve got to admit the crowd enjoyed the music. You’re just angry because I didn’t get your approval first.” I shook my head in defiance. “You really need to get over yourself.”

  “Nobody can ignore you. You won’t let them.”

  Ouch. That hurt. Even if it might be the teensiest bit true, it was mean-spirited.

  I huffed out an exasperated sigh. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll find my own way home.” Indignation kicked in as I placed my hands on my hips. “And I don’t care what you say. I’m going to show up here tomorrow and do what I was contracted to do. I stand by my commitments. You can call the police and have me arrested if you want to. But don’t bother to pick me up. Truth is, being alone with you in the car is like being sentenced to death row.”

  He shook his head. �
��I never claimed to be pleasant.”

  “No. But you go out of your way to be mean to me.” I thought about Donna’s earlier observation which right now seemed absurd. I yanked on the handle to the front door but turned to give him one parting comment. “For the record, I was doing you a favor. You called the bar a money pit and wanted more business, I got you more people.”

  “No, you wanted more people, not me. I want this place to fold up and die a quick death. You’re the one who wanted a bigger crowd, a bigger audience to showcase your talent. I hope you’re happy you got what you wanted even if you screwed me in the process.”

  I jutted out my hip to prop open the door. “How could getting more people in here be a bad thing for you? That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “It does when you managed to bring in the last person I wanted to see show up here.” For the first time since beginning his tirade, his voice softened.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The cop you were so friendly with is my stepbrother, Patrick.” He drew in a breath. “No doubt he’ll make it his business to make my life a living hell once again.”

  “What do you mean?” Even though I couldn’t have known, regret at what I’d done seeped inside me.

  “He’s going to sic everyone from his cop buddies to the health department to ATF on my ass just to prove he can.”

  “No way.” While I muttered the denial under my breath as I stumbled outside, I couldn’t help wondering if he was right. Clearly, there was some very bad blood between them. Would a family stoop that low due to misdirected vengeance?

  Preoccupied, I walked to the curb and peered down the street. Seeing a taxi sign atop a car a few blocks down, I raised my hand to catch the cabbie’s attention.

  That was the moment when I felt the poke of cold metal against my skin. I didn’t have to turn around to know what it was.

  “Give me your money, lady.”

  Despite my bravado with Shane, I was a stone-cold wuss to my core and handed the robber my purse with trembling hands. As he ran down the block, I proceeded to scream my bloody head off. Then I sat down on the curb and began to sing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “What the hell happened?” Shane grabbed my arm.

  “My . . .purse. . .” I pointed in the general direction of the alley and continued to belt out a Billie Holliday tune before moving on to Etta James while he sprinted in that direction.

  I couldn’t be sure how long he’d been gone and only noticed his presence when he touched my arm once again. His breath labored as a fine sheen of sweat broke along his forehead. “I didn’t catch him. But he dropped your purse in the alley.” He sat down on the curb next to me and handed me the purse.

  “You didn’t really fire me, did you?” Before he could answer, I started to sing once again.

  He smiled and put a finger to my lips. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

  I shook my head and continued singing as I riffled through the contents of my purse. “My iPod and wallet are here. But no phone or money.” I chewed my lip and hummed.

  “I shouldn’t have let you venture outside alone at this time of night.” He shook his head. “I was mad, but that’s no excuse for a dick move like that. I’ve got about a hundred bucks on me.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out the cash.

  I shook my head, but couldn’t seem to stop humming. “Only had thirty dollars.” I pushed the money in his direction.

  “Keep it all.” He grasped my arm and pulled me to a standing position. “You okay?”

  When I nodded, he led me to his car and helped me inside. “You sure?

  “Fine,” I mumbled in-between humming ‘Stand By Me.’

  He started the car and placed his hand on my arm. “You’re worrying me, Gabriella.” I glanced in his direction. “You know you’re singing, right?”

  The music of BB King filled the car as I turned in my seat. “Huh? Singing.” I nodded. “When I’m…ahh…nervous or scared, I start singing.” I shrugged, resisting the urge to hum. “Half the time I don’t even realize I’m doing it. Somehow it makes me feel less anxious.”

  “I guess that makes sense in a Gabriella-kind-of-way.” He smiled.

  I felt my body begin to relax as I plunked my head against the headrest and sighed. “I need to call the police.”

  “This time of night you’ll be competing with the drunks, stabbings, and gunshots, and you’ll be last in line.”

  “True.” I sighed. “But I should file a police report.”

  “It’s late. But you should call your cell phone provider and let them know about your phone.”

  “Last I heard the police were open twenty-four hours, not necessarily Verizon.” I straightened in my seat and stared at him.

  He grimaced. “I’ve got an appointment in less than four hours.”

  “This isn’t about any appointment, and you know it. Don’t get me into the middle of this war with your brother. I had my purse stolen. A crime has been committed.”

  “You got the important stuff back.”

  “This is ridiculous. You’re so afraid of the cops, you won’t even involve them when they should be.”

  “Don’t you get that wasn’t just any punk kid. He got paid to do what he did. Patrick wants you to report the crime.”

  “You are so freakin’ paranoid. You’re not even making sense. I was fired and mugged all within thirty seconds, and now you’re forcing me to listen to your cops-are-out-to-get-me paranoia. Enough already.”

  He shook his head. “If you insist on stirring up even more trouble, feel free to call the police on your own.” He sighed. “But you have no idea what kind of hell my brother can cause.”

  ***

  I went to the cell phone store as soon as it opened and got things squared away. As I trudged up the stairs to the apartment, I contemplated for the hundredth time Shane’s argument about not reporting the robbery last night. It still didn’t make sense. His idea that there was some giant conspiracy operating against him bordered on lunacy. The police were the good guys.

  Patrick was not the enemy. Maybe he and Shane had a rocky past, but that had nothing to do with what happened to me last night.

  Plus, my brothers were police officers. What would they think if they learned I had been a victim of a crime and didn’t report it?

  More determined than ever, I dumped out the contents of my purse and searched for the card Patrick had slipped into my hand the previous night. Finally locating it in a zippered pocket, I punched in the number.

  The phone rang several times before voice mail picked up. “This is Detective Patrick O’Neil. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  “Patrick, this is Gabriella. I need to talk to you.” Just as I finished leaving the message, there was a knock at the door. Startled, I dropped my phone onto the couch.

  Convinced it was Shane stopping by to bodily throw me out of town, my voice shook as I answered. “Who is it?”

  “Cara.”

  I sighed, knowing I was only marginally safer with Cara. Her allegiance had been clear from the first day I met her, but I had a hard time believing Shane had sent her to do his dirty work and evict me.

  When I opened the door seconds later, Cara stood on the other side. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I have to ask you a favor.” It might have been some kind of elaborate trick, but the harried look on her face said otherwise.

  “Sure. What is it?”

  She walked inside. Nervousness reflected in her frenetic movements. Normally, Cara was calm and matter-of-fact, even when all four lines on the phone were ringing simultaneously.

  “I need to get in touch with Shane. He’s working on a case, and an emergency hearing on a motion for dismissal has just been scheduled for today at five. The defense lawyer, Vince Perry, needs Shane to testify about what he found. But Shane’s teaching, so he has his phone off. Is there any way you could take a cab to let him know? I’ve got to get to class, otherwise
I’d go.”

  “Teaching?” I couldn’t imagine him teaching anything except how to be grumpy twenty-four seven.

  Preoccupied, Cara paced back and forth in the small apartment. “This never happens. Everyone knows Wednesday afternoons are sacred for Shane.” She took a deep breath, as if trying to find another way out of this puzzle. But in the end, she couldn’t. “He volunteers every Wednesday afternoon at one of the high schools.” Based on her move toward the door, it was obvious she didn’t want to elaborate.

  Any qualms I might have had were overridden by a serious case of curiosity. “Let me get dressed, and I’ll be right down.”

  I took a quick shower and threw on a jeans skirt and camisole top. After laying out my clothes for the evening in case I didn’t have a lot of time when I got back, I applied minimal makeup and made my way downstairs.

  I hailed a cab. The cabbie seemed reluctant after I gave him the address, but eventually acquiesced when I agreed to a twenty-dollar bonus for his trouble.

  It took only twenty minutes or so to reach the school. The cab traveled a series of streets where men were hanging out on corners, holding paper bags in their hands likely filled with booze or crack pipes or God only knew what. I didn’t see any women or children, only desperate-looking men and boarded-up storefronts and homes.

  Every town had what might be considered a bad area, but this seemed to be on a whole different level. Was this some kind of elaborate plot to drive me out of town by scaring me half to death? “Are you sure you know where the school is?”

  “Yeah, lady. That school is no place for sissies. I don’t set foot in this neighborhood once it gets dark. There’s a shooting a couple of times a week around here. I’ll drop you off right in front. There should be guards inside the doors. I’ll wait until you get in before I leave. I promise.”

  He pulled in front of a building that looked too old to be a school. Thirty or more worn cement steps led to an entrance that must have been grand at the time it was built.