Amaretto Amber (Franki Amato Mysteries Book 3) by Traci Andrighetti Read Free Book Online Page A

wear off .
    I exited the club and saw the officer on guard talking to a couple of scantily clad young women.
    "You need to go straight to the second floor and wait with the other dancers," he said, gesturing toward the balcony. "An officer will question you shortly."
    Seizing the opportunity, I waited for the dancers to enter Madame Moiselle's. Then I fell into step behind their six-inch heels and followed them to the pink neon "VIP Champagne Rooms" sign in the far-left corner of the club. They powered up the stairs in their platforms while I plodded along in my two-inch-heeled boots. Of course, I could've kept up with them if I exercised for a living like they did. Possibly.
    "Is that you, Miss Franki?" Glenda called.
    "In the flesh," I quipped, smiling to myself since I was the only fully clothed female in the joint. The smile faded when I caught sight of Glenda at the top of the stairs in an outfit that made me want to turn around and go back down. She was wearing red, cross-shaped pasties, a white ruffle that was failing miserably at passing for a skirt, a tiny red thong, and red fishnet thigh-high stockings with white go-go boots—naughty stripper-style, not Nancy Sinatra-style. All she needed was a nursing cap, and she'd look like a slutty go-go dancer for the Red Cross.
    I reached the landing and shifted my gaze from Glenda to the décor. Everything was red—the walls, the ceiling, the woodwork, the couches, even the bar.
    "Let's go into a VIP Room so we can talk in private." Glenda opened the nearest door, and I was instantly taken aback.
    "Are they all glowing pink like this?" I asked, shielding my eyes from the neon Veni, vidi, veni sign.
    "Sure are," she said, flopping onto a love seat. "The idea is that you go from the deep red outside to the vibrant pink inside to evoke lips opening into a mouth or labia opening into a vagina. That's why I decorated your living room in red and your bedroom in pink."
    Great . Now in addition to thinking of my apartment as a whorehouse and a funeral parlor, I would forever envision it as a giant orifice.
    "But forget the design scheme." She patted the seat next to her. "Come sit beside Miss Glenda so we can discuss the murder."
    It didn't take an epidemiologist to know that there wasn't a sanitary surface in the place. "I'd rather stand, thanks."
    "Suit yourself, sugar," she said with a shrug. "Now, did you notice anything unusual about the crime scene?"
    "Oddly enough," I began, putting my hand on my hip, "I didn't get to see it because the detective who arrested me last night—the one I mistook for the stripper cop you sent me?—he just kicked me out of the club."
    She crossed her arms above her red-crossed breasts and looked at me like I was some kind of reprobate. "I can't imagine why."
    I wanted to clench my jaw, but I had to protect my tooth.
    "But never you mind, Miss Franki, because Miss Ronnie will be here any minute, and she'll charm the pants off that ornery detective. Then you'll be at that crime scene faster than you can say 'strip.'"
    "Miss Ronnie" was what Glenda called Veronica. And she was right about her being able to charm Detective Sullivan, including the part about his pants. Veronica had a man-melting move that I'd named "the bat and twirl." All she had to do was bat her eyelashes over her cornflower baby blues while twisting a golden lock around her finger, and men's resistance dissolved. No matter how many times I'd tried to master it, I just looked like I had a nervous eye tic and a hair-pulling compulsion.
    "Hey, so what time did you get here this morning to practice for your show?" I asked.
    Glenda kicked her skinny legs across the back of the love seat. "What makes you think I came here to practice?"
    I eyed her go-go nurse getup. "Well, it looks like you're going for some sort of saintly look."
    "I told you, sugar. I'm a slut," she said, staring at me like I was one thong shy of a stripper costume. "And I came to the club because my manager, Eugene,