Scottsdale Heat: a romantic light-hearted murder mystery (Laura Black Mysteries Book 1) by B A Trimmer Read Free Book Online

brakes to keep from hitting it. I expected a finger, but the driver ignored me.
    Maybe it was just my Honda has anti-lock brakes and I hadn’t made a lot of noise skidding the tires, but for some reason, the lack of a finger gave me a bad feeling about the black car. I drifted back and let it stay between Alex and me. The Lincoln first pulled in tight behind Alex then backed off a few car lengths. Two men were visible in the car and after a few minutes it was clear they were also following Alex.
    I followed both cars. Both my curiosity and my confusion had raised several notches. Who were these men? What had Alex been doing in the art gallery? What had he been doing in the beat-up jewelry shop? He appeared to be fencing something small enough to fit in a small black bag. Was this the source of his money? Was any of this drug related?
    Help!
    With these questions nipping at me, I continued tailing both Alex and the Lincoln. We all drove south on Scottsdale Road, passing through downtown and then into south Scottsdale. Alex was almost to the Loop 202 highway when he pulled into the parking lot of Jennie’s Cabaret.
    ~~~~
    Jennie’s is the Cadillac of the many Scottsdale strip clubs. From the outside, the building appears to be a small Vegas casino. Fountains, landscaping, and lighting all mingle to give an affluent and elegant appearance. I looked around and saw there were about forty cars in the lot. Not bad for a Tuesday lunch.
    Alex parked and went in. The Lincoln drove to the back of the lot and the two men got out. Now I was able to get a look at them, I saw one was tall, one was short, and they both looked cranky. They followed Alex into the club.
    I parked, waited two minutes, and then walked to the entrance. Standing on either side of the doorway, like immovable towers of stone, were two doormen. Each was huge, efficient, and formally attired in a black coat with tails and a black bow tie. Now, the way I look at it, the nicer a bouncer dresses the meaner he looks, and these two looked sharp. They looked me up and down, and then let me in.
    ~~~~
    It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the low lighting as I paid the cover and entered the cavernous room. Every time I go into one of these places, I’m amazed at what an industry is built around men watching women dance.
    The first thing that caught my attention was the music. It was loud and hard classic rock. What struck me was the pounding bass line seeming to accompany every song. It was a type of tribal drumming, evoking a raw sexual response.
    The room had a deep red carpet. The walls were royal blue with metallic silver stars. The ceiling was black, as were the tables and chairs. The club smelled of beer and sweat.
    As I looked around, I saw the room had five stages. The main stage was attached to a long catwalk that came out from a backstage area against the back wall. The catwalk itself was six feet across and twenty feet long, leading to a circular stage maybe twelve feet across. The catwalk and stage were both lacquered a smooth glossy black. Near the end of the catwalk was a brass pole. It was bolted to the floor and rose up to the ceiling. Small tables and chairs, mostly occupied, crowded against both the runway and stage.
    The other stages were similar, but without a catwalk, and were not being used. I guessed the lunch crowd wasn’t big enough to support more than one dancer at a time. I could only imagine the throng that would appear here on a Friday night. There were half a dozen cocktail waitresses milling about, serving drinks, and chatting with the customers. There was also a sleepy looking DJ in a booth in the corner, spinning out the dance tunes.
    An area against the far corner of the room had been set aside for lap dances. I saw an old man sitting back on a red leather love seat while a nearly naked young woman straddled his lap, her hips thrusting to the beat of the music. A look of joy was on the old man’s face as the woman rhythmically