“I know. I’m a good cleaner.” She brushed back a strand of graying hair with the back of her hand.
She’d been cleaning for him for more years than he could remember and in the beginning when she’d taken the job she’d been terrible, barely knowing what end of the mop to use. But she’d wanted to please, wanted to work so he’d been patient until she’d learned the bar’s less glamorous routine.
Rudy smiled and turned his attention to the television. The newscaster had switched from traffic and turned the show over to Susan Martinez who wore a blood red suit jacket that sharply contrasted with her hair’s inky blackness. “Sources close to the Nashville Police Department say that there are no suspects in the murder of Dixie Simmons, a local singer beaten to death last week. Police are also investigating the death of Lexis Hanover, a private detective and teacher who was also beaten to death. Currently police are saying there is no connection between the killings.”
Rudy shook his head, deep worry spreading through his body. He’d not been too surprised when the cops had come to talk to him about Dixie’s death. The way that girl lived and the men she ran with, it was a matter of time before someone did her harm. Even when that detective had asked questions of her, he’d not worried. Dixie wasn’t the first young singer to end up brutalized or dead.
But the death of Lexis Hanover had him thinking that maybe . . . no, no, no. He halted his train of thought, refusing to give credibility to his worries. He focused on his tea, knowing it would be several more hours before he could take a break. Nikki continued to stare into her teacup, seemingly unmindful of the news or much else around her.
Nikki was like that. Simple. She didn’t ask much and if directed to work she did her chores without hesitation. She wasn’t much of a talker and she never could survive in this world alone.
Rudy’s life had been on such a different path before Nikki. And when she’d first come to live with him it had been a burden to look after her. Now, he never thought twice about seeing that she ate well, dressed herself right, or did her chores. He’d been taking care of her for so long, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live alone, without Nikki lumbering around the house.
Rudy finished up the tea. “I’ve got to get back to the bar, Nikki. I’ll be back.”
Nikki slurped. “Okay.”
“Do you want me to take your teacup?”
Nikki glanced into her cup. “No. I still have more.”
“Put it in the sink when you’re finished. Like I showed you.”
“Okay.”
“See you soon.”
“Rudy?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
“Be careful of what?”
She nodded toward the television. “Bad guys.”
Rudy glanced toward the television, never realizing that Nikki had been paying attention. “I’ll be careful.”
“Good.”
February 5
Sugar,
Not this weekend. I’m not feeling so well. I’ll see you soon.
Xoxo,
A.
Chapter Thirteen
Monday, October 17, 9 PM
“You’ve got to get out of the office,” Colleen said. “All you do is work.”
Rachel glanced up from her stack of papers. “I gave too much time away to the Annie Dawson case and now I’m way behind. It’s a busy time. It will let up soon.”
“That’s what you said last month and the month before.” Her thick hair brushed, a sparkly silver dress, and long dangle earrings winked in the lights. “Rachel, you really have to give it a rest. You can’t keep going like this.”
Her shoulder had stiffened, the pain now radiating down her back. “The light looms at the end of the tunnel.”
“The light is always out of your reach. You will never catch it.” She moved to the desk and closed Rachel’s file. “Now you have five minutes to change into fun clothes and get in the car with me. We are going to have drinks, listen to great music, and maybe dance a little.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. She needed to keep working but fatigue had slowed her thoughts, which weren’t connecting as easily. “Fine, I’ll take off.”
Colleen raised her hands to the air. “It’s a miracle.”
Rachel rose, her body stiff. “I’m not that OCD.”
Colleen rolled her eyes. “Five minutes.”
Changing was an easy proposition for Rachel because she had few clothes. She had her two suits for the office and clothes for her art but the in-between outfits weren’t many. She settled on a black pair of jeans and a funky leopard print shirt, large gold hoop earrings, and her favorite cowboy boots.
When she emerged, Colleen shook her head. “I like the look. I always forget you are really a funky artist in disguise.”
“Lawyer by day, and well, these days, lawyer by night.”
“Not tonight!” Colleen hustled Rachel out of the office and into her car. She drove to the club cutting and winding through the streets at a dizzying speed.
Rachel laughed. “You should drive for NASCAR.”
“If the law doesn’t work for me, I might.” She beeped her horn and cut through an intersection seconds before the light turned red.
“Stick with the law. Really.”
They arrived at Rudy’s on Broadway after ten. Colleen found street parking a block away. As they moved closer to the honky-tonk the sounds of music drifted out. The tension in Rachel’s shoulders melted and she realized she needed this break.
The place was packed with bodies bumping against bodies. Some danced, others talked and many watched the singer on stage. Rachel paid their cover charge and the two headed to the bar. Colleen ordered white wine. Rachel ordered a soda. She took a long sip, savoring the cool liquid.
She glanced up toward the stage, curious about the woman whose voice added a throaty feminine edge to a Willie Nelson song. Faded jeans and a black silk top showed off the woman’s petite figure as an explosion of curls framed her face. Eyes closed as she held the microphone, the singer was lost in emotion.
Rachel studied the singer. “I’ve seen her before.”
“Really?” As Colleen sipped her wine she waved to a tall broad-shouldered man.
Rachel watched the singer. “How did you hear about her?”
“A friend of a friend.”
Memories that didn’t jive with this setting pushed to the front of her mind. “I’ve met her. She’s a cop. She works forensics for Nashville PD.”
Colleen grinned. “I know. Her name is Georgia.”
Rachel lowered her soda. “Georgia Morgan. She’d worked Lexis Hanover’s crime scene.”
Colleen paled. “Oh, Rachel, I didn’t know that. I heard from some of my buddies that she’s a great singer.”
Rachel glanced around the room at the patrons. They were all in plain clothes but it wasn’t hard to guess that most were cops. Short hair, a bearing that radiated power and confidence. Shit. “We are in cop central.”
“Look, if this feels weird, we can leave.”