Peepshow by Leigh Redhead Read Free Book Online

boobs like a starving infant.
    ‘And what do you do, Alex?’ I examined him over the rim of my glass. Dark hair, expensive haircut, maroon shirt, fabulous shoes.
    ‘Guess.’
    ‘Dolphin trainer?’
    ‘No,’ he laughed.
    ‘Bikini waxer to the stars?’
    ‘I wish.’
    ‘I give up,’ I said. ‘You may as well tell me.’
    He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. ‘I’m a cop.’
    My brain started buzzing. Cops have access to all sorts of information. And what was he doing here, so soon after the murder?
    ‘You don’t look like a cop,’ I said. He seemed pleased.
    ‘My job doesn’t freak you out?’
    ‘No. Cops are tops. Just like the sticker says. What sort of cop are you?’
    ‘I’m a detective with the CIB. Criminal Investigation Bureau.’
    A skinny stripper perched on the edge of Grant’s chair and whispered to him. Her blond hairpiece didn’t quite match the colour of her hair. She took his hand and led him over to the couches.
    Alex rolled his eyes. ‘I apologise for Grant.’
    ‘Don’t worry about it.’ I plucked the strawberry from my glass and nibbled at it. ‘Hey, do CIB guys mix with cops from Homicide?’
    ‘Sometimes.’ He was cagey.
    ‘Do they have any suspects in the Parisi murder?’
    He raised one eyebrow and almost smiled. ‘I’m not at liberty to comment.’
    ‘Have any theories of your own?’ I asked.
    ‘Why do you want to know?’
    ‘He was a wonderful guy and a terrific boss. I just want to see the killer brought to justice.’
    ‘Come off it. He was a sleaze. You girls told the taskforce yourselves. If he hadn’t been murdered it was only a matter of time before he was charged with sexual assault.’
    ‘My,’ I said, ‘don’t we know a lot about a case we’re not even working on? Why’d you come here? Why not some other club?’
    ‘Professional interest. You ask too many questions.
    You’re not an undercover cop but I don’t think you’re a stripper.’
    I smiled. ‘Why don’t you get a lap dance and find out?’
    ‘Nah.’ He shook his head
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘I always swore I’d never pay for a lap dance.’
    ‘Because you’re too cheap? Can’t afford it?’
    ‘No.’
    I sat back and crossed my arms. ‘Would you feel like you were exploiting me?’
    ‘Well . . .’
    ‘Or that I’m exploiting you? Poor delicate flower.’
    ‘I’m just not that desperate,’ he smirked.
    ‘Well, it was nice talking to you, Detective.’ I got up to leave. ‘But if you’re not having a private dance I’m going to have to go and mingle.’ I tipped the last of the champagne down my throat and turned to saunter off.
    Alex grabbed my wrist. ‘All right, how much?’
    ‘Fifty dollars for a fantasy dance in one of the private rooms.’
    He took a leather wallet from his inside jacket pocket and slid out a green hundred.
    ‘Keep the change.’
    ‘Follow me.’
    He grabbed his drink and I led him by the hand through the club. In the time we’d sat talking the place had really filled up. Blondes in fluorescent bikinis flirted convincingly with men in neat casual. There were suits, country guys, and the occasional tragic pisspot who’d been left behind by his friends. I even saw a minor soap star and the son of an ex-premier. Music pounded and the podiums were full. Frank’s murder had given the club the sort of publicity money couldn’t buy. It was notorious and when people came to the Red they felt like they were real y taking a walk on the wild side, if only for a few hours. I gave the money to Emma, selected a tape, then took Alex to the private room at the end of the corridor. Two other rooms were busy and music melded together like an out-of-tune radio. He sat in the armchair and put his drink down. ‘I like the Zebra rug, classy.’
    ‘Here at the Red Room the eighties never ended,’ I said. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
    ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘It’s a fantasy dance. I have to get changed into my fantasy outfit.’
    ‘You mean