Death, Taxes, and Hot Pink Leg Warmers by Diane Kelly Read Free Book Online

an absolute jackass, a middle-aged Caucasian man who’d had plenty of money to pay his mortgage but had purposely skipped payments in the hopes of forcing the bank to lower his monthly payments and interest rate. He’d bought his house years ago when rates were much higher and had been unable to refinance the loan at a lower rate due to the fact that he’d since let his credit slide. He’d leased a Jaguar but stopped making payments when he’d tired of the car. The finance company had been forced to repossess the vehicle. He’d ceased making payments on a hot tub he’d purchased for his patio when he’d cooled off on the novelty of soaking in warm, bubbling water. He’d also failed to make payments on a gym membership, a laptop, and a time-share in Galveston. Though he didn’t come right out and say so, it was clear he’d signed up with GSM only in the hopes of getting a better deal for himself. Heck, he wasn’t much better than the Tennis Racketeers.
    Back at the FBI office, Eddie and I parted ways with Ackerman, agreeing to meet up again the next day to continue our investigation. After meeting with the Nguyens and Marisol Ortiz, I felt even more motivated to string up the Tennis Racketeers.

 
    chapter seven
    Hired
    Just after Eddie and I returned to the IRS building I received a call from a man named Merle, the assistant manager of Guys & Dolls, asking me to come in for an interview ASAP.
    “Our last bookkeeper flaked on us,” Merle said. “Didn’t even give notice. We need to get this position filled as soon as possible.”
    “I’m on my way.”
    “Great. Don’t bring any cash into the club, okay?”
    I found the request a little odd, but agreed. Heck, it’s not like I had any cash on me anyway. In these days of debit cards, dollar bills were old-school.
    I stopped by Lu’s office to let her know my plans.
    She had a celery stick in her hands today rather than her usual Slim Jim. Looked like she was serious about her vow to get in shape.
    “Celery, huh? That’s a good start.”
    Her lips curled back in disgust. “It’s going to be hard to change my eating habits. But if I can quit smoking after forty-five years, I suppose I can change my diet, too.”
    I swung an encouraging fist. “That’s the spirit.”
    She eyed the briefcase in my hand. “Where are you off to?”
    “Guys and Dolls. I’ve got an interview.”
    She took a loud, crunchy bite of the celery. “Don’t blow it.”
    “Hey, if I convinced you to hire me, this interview will be a piece of cake.”
    Twenty minutes later, I pulled my Mini Cooper into the parking lot of Guys & Dolls. The dark gray building that housed the club was windowless, as if trying to keep its dirty secrets hidden inside. A black sign with red neon letters spelling GUYS & DOLLS GENTLEMEN’S CLUB hung over the double front doors.
    Gentlemen. As if, huh?
    I cut my engine and took a deep breath to ready myself. Sure, I’d seen these types of places portrayed on TV and in movies, but I’d never actually been inside a strip club before. I wasn’t a prude and had no qualms about baring my body back in high school gym class or now at the YMCA, but a ladies’ locker room was a nonsexual environment. None of us had been looking at each other. I wasn’t sure what to expect from a place where women danced topless with the explicit intent of being ogled by men.
    I made my way to the front door. A bouncer with biceps the size of bowling balls stood at the entrance. His unkempt shoulder-length locks gave him a Tarzan-like appearance. He wore a black T-shirt stretched tight across his chest. The word SECURITY was printed in white across the front. He opened the door for me, releasing the sound of Christina Aguilera’s hit “Dirrty” and shooting me a lascivious grin. “So you like the ladies, too?”
    “Actually I’m here to interview for the bookkeeping job.”
    His grin faded. Looked like I’d killed his lesbian sex fantasy.
    He stuck out a beefy hand.