Three bathing beauties strolled past him next. One had on a short jacket, which pretended to cover up the expanse of ample breasts displayed by the strings of her bikini top. The jacket, however, ended at her midriff. The bottom of her bathing suit was a thong. She was wearing three-inch heels, as well.
Interesting ensemble.
As night came on, so did more of the bold, the beautiful and the downright ugly.
A doorman came out to guard the entrance to the club.
A lithe Latin girl in see-through white entered with a tall dark man, followed by three obvious rockers, speaking so loudly that their English accents were clearly discernible across the street.
Quinn sipped a mineral water, somewhat amused as he turned a page in the notebook before himcompliments of Doug. His brother was meticulously thorough. This file described the teachers at the studio. Interesting group. Hed started with Gordon Henson, who had bought the business in the early seventies. He no longer taught, but in his day, he had apparently instructed some of the top champions in the world. He still showed up at the studio and did some overseeing of the day-to-day business. He had basically turned things over to Shannon Mackay, though. She had some students but also saw to the running of the studio. She was a native Floridian, born in Winter Haven, moved with her folks to the Miami area when she was three, had graduated from the areas specialized high school, then gone to an arts school in New York City. She was five feet seven inches, one hundred and twenty-five pounds, a green-eyed, dark blond dynamo, with a capacity for pure professionalism. Doug, it seemed, had waxed a little poetic on the last.
That didnt surprise Quinn.
Everyone he had seen in the studio was attractive. Well-dressed, well-groomed. The men wore suits, the women dresses or feminine pants ensembles. The girls were pretty, the men, if not exactly handsome, certainly presentable. But Shannon Mackay was a standout. Features delicate but precise, hair soft in a stunning color of sunlight, and eyes deep, direct and thoughtful. More, she seemed to radiate a sensual energy, her every movement unintentionally seductive, her smile somehow open and secretive in one. Beguiling.
She wore one of the Versace scentshe knew it because his mother loved perfumes and hed learned the names. Shannon had the ability to touch gently but still steer and manipulate a student as she wanted. At his stage, he stood somewhat awkwardly apart from her when they danced. Close enough, though. She was something. Maybe that was why he had done so badlyit was difficult to concentrate when he was so close to her. Hell, yes, difficult to concentrate, but he just wasnt cut out for dancing. Didnt matter. He wouldnt be taking lessons long.
He wondered idly what he would have felt if hed met her under different circumstances. Severely piqued interest, at the least. She had a chemistry that instantly aroused interest at an instinctive level. He would have liked to ask her out, listen to her voice, get between the light and shadow of her eyes.
She was as suspect as anyone else in a possible murder, he reminded himself.
A damned sexy suspect.
And yetwhat if hed met her elsewhere? He suddenly found himself pondering his last night with Geneva and wondering what exactly was wrong with him. Theyd been together five years, and that night, she had just exploded. He was never with her, shed said. Not ever really with her. Not even when they made love. He lived work, breathed work and had become his work. Shed been crying. He had wanted to assure her somehow, but every word shed said had been true. To others, it had been a perfect relationship. He was FBI; she was an assistant D.A. Tough schedules, the same parties. She teased that she always looked great on his arm; she was bright and beautiful. But somehow, it was true. The workand the way it didnt always workhad begun to obsess him. He had been able to leave the office but never to let go. His workouts at the gym were no longer exercise but him beating up an enemy he couldnt touch, a vague force that was beating him, creating an inner rage.
Over. Over and done with. He was further disturbed by the knowledge that he hadnt felt any lonelier when she was gone. He had merely felt the strange darkness, the frustration, and, finally, the feeling that he wasnt where he should be, that he was no longer effective. Time to change his life, maybe even come home.
Then there had been the Nell Durken case.
The bastard who had killed her was in jail. Largely because of his work, his records, and what hed given the cops. A killer was caught. He would face trial.
But was he the killer?
The question nagged at him, and he gritted his teeth.
Back to the files. The business at hand.
Shannon Mackay. She ran the business, taught, didnt compete. Apparently a broken ankle several years ago had caused her to step out of the arena of professional competition. Shed been at the top of her form, and the trophies shed won were part of what gave the studio its reputation.
So what had she felt about Lara Trudeau? Dougs files didnt say.
He stared across the street, reflecting on his instructor. Shed been tense. His questions had made her nervous. Or maybe she was always tense. Noshe was on edge, something more than usual.
Rhianna Markham, Jane Ulrich. Both pretty, unmarried, no solid relationships, no children. Rhianna was from Ohio and had a degree from a liberal arts college. Jane had never gone past high school but had worked three years as a dancer at one of the central Florida theme parks before coming south. Both were ambitious, wanted to advance in the professional world. Lara Trudeau would have been their competition.
Of course, every female competitor in the dance world would have been in the same position. Assuming that Lara Trudeau had somehow been helped to her demise, she had done so before a crowd of hundredsa large percentage of them competitors. He could be barking up the wrong tree entirely.
But he had to start somewhere. If Lara Trudeau had been murdered, it had been by someone with whom she had a close relationship. To have her die the way she did, before a crowd of hundreds, a murderer would have had to plan very carefully. And it certainly did seem odd that a woman who had been a student at the school had died from an eerily similar overdose just weeks before, even if she hadnt been at the studio in some time.
So
Love. Hate.
The male instructors. Ben Trudeau. The ex-husband. Always a good suspect. Late thirties, tall, attractive, talented, a bit hardened, and, like Lara, growing old for the field of competition. Hed taken a steady teaching job rather than just coaching. Sam Railey, Jane Ulrichs partner, deeply loyal, determined that they would rise to the topthey had come close together, many times. Justin Garcia, salsa specialist, newest teacher at the studio.
Then there was Laras partner, Jim Burke. Not a full time teacher at the studio but a coach, as well. Again, a tall, striking man of thirty, lucky to be chosen to be Laras partner. Now alone. With Lara, he flew like an eagle. Without herhe had no partner. He was back to square one. No matter what his talent, Lara had been the driving force of the pairs, the true prima donna of the dance floor. Jim Burke seemed an unlikely candidate as a murderer.
Gordon Henson?
Quinn shook his head. It wasnt difficult finding motives for most of Laras acquaintances and associates. Gordon had gotten Lara started; he gave her space, taught her to move. Had she spurned him, rejected him, made fun of himthreatened him?
He looked across the street again. He had only glanced through the files on the teachers and he had half a dozen scenarios already. He hadnt even begun to study the student lists.
It was now beginning to get busier over at Suede. He checked his watch. After ten. He was surprised to realize that the waiter at the little café had politely let him sit here, nursing a water, for so long. He started to rise, then paused, watching.
Shannon Mackay was coming down the steps from the side entry to the studio. She had apparently left in a hurry and rushed halfway down, looking behind her as she did so.
Then she stopped, took a deep breath and squared her soldiers.
For a minute she simply stood there. At last she turned and slowly walked back up. She took out a set of keys and made quick work of locking the door, then started down the steps again.
She walked slowly at first. Then, as she neared the bottom, she began rushing again. She reached the sidewalk and took another deep breath. She stared back up the steps, then shook her head.
The doorman at Suede saw her as she stood on the sidewalk. He called out a greeting, and she swung around, greeting him in turn.
Then she disappeared into the club as he opened the door for her.
Very curious behavior, Quinn thought.
He left the café, making sure to leave a generous tip. He would undoubtedly be wanting his table back in the days to come. He stopped by his car long enough to toss in the files hed been reading, then headed across the street.
The doorman at Suede was jet-black, a good six-three, and pure muscle. He looked at Quinn, frowned, sized him up and down, and decided to let him pass.
Inside, the music was loud.
The bar was to the rear of the building, the dance floor about ten feet from the entrance. The place advertised live music and lived up to the advertising. The room was handsomely appointed, with the walls painted to imitate a sunset. Floor lighting gave the place just enough illumination to make the tables navigable, while spotlights gave a burst of life to the polished dance floor. A Latin trio was playing, and the beat was fast. Tables surrounded the floor on either side, and despite it being a weeknight, most of the tables were filled, though the place wasnt overcrowded. Scantily clad women on the dance floor gyrated at shocking speeds, some looking good and some not.
Toward the rear of the place, to the left of the bar, he caught sight of Gordon Henson. The thick thatch of white hair on his head was caught in the light, drawing attention to him. Skirting around the dance floor, Quinn saw that his brother was in attendance, along with Bobby Yarborough, one of his classmates from the academy, and Bobbys new wife, or at least, Quinn assumed it was his wife. Hed never met her. Shannon Mackay was next to Doug, on her other side a tall man in a white tailored shirt and sport jacket, who, in turn, was next to a small woman of about forty, perfectly elegant, but with features so taut they screamed plastic surgery.
Doug, looking across the floor, saw him and, with some surprise, called his name. Quinn!
Quinn continued across the room, excusing himself with a quick smile when he nearly collided with a waitress.
My brother with the two left feet, Doug teased, rising to greet him with a handshake.
Hey, now, thats not really true, Shannon said, defending him. The words, however, seemed to be a natural reaction; she smiled, but she seemed distracted.
Thats right. You had your first lesson today, so youve met Shannon and Gordon, and of course, you know Bobby.
Quinn nodded, reaching out to shake Bobbys hand. Bobby grinned broadly. Hey, Quinn. You havent met my wife, Giselle.
Giselle, nice to meet you. Congratulations on your wedding.
Giselle smiled. Thank you. Its amazing. I thought it would never come. Now, I feel as if weve been married forever.
Ouch, Bobby said.
She squeezed his arm. I meant that in the best possible way.
Hmm, Bobby mused, feigning a frown.
Quinn, these are the doctors Long, Doug continued. Richard and Mina.
He shook hands with the couple. How nice. Do you work together?
The petite blonde laughed. Good heavens, no. Richard is a dermatologist and plastic surgeon. Im a lowly, hardworking pediatrician.
Shes far more noble, Richard said, grinning.
Youre the artist, his wife teased back.
His arm, casually around her shoulders as they sat in the expansive booth, tightened affectionately. We simply thank God we dont work together. That way, we get to enjoy the time we do share.
Great, Quinn said.
Here, please, sit, Mina Long said, inching closer to her husband.
I dont want to crowd you.
Oh, please, dont worry, Richard said. Were only here for a few minutes longer. We have to join some other friends across the room. In factwe were about to dance? He wasnt looking at his wife but across the table at Shannon.
Thats the music you want? she asked.
Thats it, he told her.
Excuse me, then?
Bobby and Giselle moved out, allowing Shannon to slip from the booth. She brushed past Quinn, who excused himself, moving backward again to allow her more room.
Sit, bro, Doug said, as the others slid back in. So how did you like your lesson?
It wasgreat, Quinn said. He watched as Shannon took the floor with Richard Long. A moment later, they were moving with astonishing grace, taking up the floor, entwined in seemingly impossible ways, and doing it so well that many of the people on the floor moved back, cheering.
Thats salsa? Quinn said.
Samba, Gordon told him.
He looked across the table at Mina. And do you dance, too, Dr. Long?
Oh, yes. She laughed pleasantly. But not like Shannon. She grinned. Richard and I dance together at social functions, of course. But frankly, he prefers Shannonand I prefer Sam. Sam Railey. Hes my teacher. Two amateurs naturally dance better with two professionals. She leaned closer across the table. Im afraid Richard is showing off tonight. We have to join a few of his professional associates in a minute.
Ah, I see, Quinn said.
She smiled again. It would have been a great smileif it hadnt appeared that her entire face might shatter. You will see. Wait until you get into it more. Hey, have you seen your brother dance?
Believe it or not, I havent.
Mina Long looked at Doug. Im not exactly Jane or Shannon, but we can give your big brother a bit of show, if you like?
Absolutely, Doug agreed. Sorry, he said apologetically to the others again.
Hey, we might as well dance, too, Bobby told his bride.
Might as well? Giselle said with a groan. See, Bobby, it is as if weve been married forever.
Bobby laughed. Sorry. My beloved wife, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?
Good save, Doug muttered, and they all laughed.
Pretty darned good, yes, Mina agreed, and she took his hand, heading for the dance floor.
How did you enjoy your lesson? Gordon Henson asked Quinn.
You know, quite frankly, I went because Doug bought me the guest passes and he was so into it himself. But I was surprised. I did enjoy it, Quinn said, his eyes on his brother and Mina.