Deception at Castle Rock (Amelia Grace Rock 'n' Roll Mysteries Book 2)

by Anne Marie Stoddard

  "Me?" Suzie gasped, her brown eyes wide.

  Bronwyn grinned. "Surprise." She scooped up the items and walked around the booth to stand behind Suzie. Before the poor young woman could protest, Bron slid the sash down over Suzie's shoulders and adjusted it so that the words BRIDE TO BE were displayed across her chest in zebra-print letters. Then she fashioned the veil above the girl's long, dark hair. Scurrying back around the table, Bronwyn grasped one of the plastic, silver tiaras and came back around to sit it on top of Suzie's head. "There." She stood back and placed her hands on her hips, admiring her handiwork. "Perfect."

  Suzie glanced nervously around the table, her cheeks flaming. Clearly the poor girl wasn't used to being the center of attention. "I don't know—" she began, but Bronwyn cut her off.

  "Come on, Suz," Bron coaxed, giving the girl's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You're getting married! And being on the road all the time with the band, I imagine you don't get a lot of girl time. Let us take you out to celebrate. It'll be fun."

  "Aww, Bron, what an awesome idea," Kat said. She reached across the table to grab a white feather boa and draped it across her shoulders. It made her look like a classic Hollywood starlet, with her low-cut blue sun dress and her light brown hair sleeked back. "Count me in." Kat locked eyes with me and grinned. "What do you say, Ame? Girls' night?"

  I cast a nervous glance at Ginger and Suzie. I was almost positive Bronwyn's ulterior motive involved interrogating the dancer, "Coral", and this was her idea of a cover story. It was unfair to drag these women unknowingly into her little scheme. I did have to admit, though, it seemed that poor Suzie's car accident had left her traumatized—and being on the road with a group of guys and only one other woman to keep her company must be rough. Jack wouldn't let her out of his sight most of the time. A good night of female bonding would help us all blow off a little steam and might bring her out of her shell. "All right." I picked out a pink boa and a button that said Bride's Official Entourage. I gave Suzie an encouraging smile. "Let's do it."

  Ginger blinked at Kat and me, disappointment written on her face. She must have expected us to put an end to Bron's plan so that she could retreat to Kat's house and get back to work. Seeing that she was outnumbered, she heaved a sigh of resignation and grabbed her own yellow feather boa, along with a handful of colorful beaded necklaces. "Fine," she said sulkily.

  Jack placed a protective arm around Suzie's shoulders. "You won't let anything happen to her?" He looked directly at me, concern etched on his handsome face.

  "She'll be fine," I promised.

  "We'll have her home by one, sir," Bronwyn added in a goofy voice. She gave Jack a mock salute.

  Jack tilted his face downward and kissed Suzie's forehead. "Have fun, baby," he said. "Just know I won't get a wink of sleep until you're home safe."

  "Of course you won't, dude," Zane chimed in from across the booth. "If the ladies are going out, that means we can take you out for an impromptu bachelor party, too." Mickey, Reese, and Chad gave shouts of approval.

  "I don't have to go," Suzie said in a half-whisper when the noise died down. Her eyes pleaded with Jack. I hoped her case of separation anxiety from her fiancé could be fixed with a few fruity cocktails.

  "No, you should go. I know you miss your friends back in LA, so this is a good chance to make a few new ones." He smiled at Kat and me. "These girls will show you a good time. I'll see you back at Kat's place." He kissed Suzie and squeezed her hand.

  Dusk had settled over Atlanta by the time we returned to the parking lot. Reese took the keys to the Escalade from Kat, and the men filed into the black SUV, leaving Ginger, Kat, Suzie, and me to ride with Bronwyn in her Fiesta. It was almost painful to look at Suzie without Jack by her side. She seemed so frail and timid, casting nervous glances around the parking lot and avoiding eye contact with the rest of us.

  "You can ride shotgun, if you want," Bronwyn said to the shy woman, opening the passenger's side door for her.

  "Thanks," Suzie said weakly. She folded herself into the front seat, and Ginger, Kat, and I climbed into the back. "I'm not really dressed for a night out," Suzie said, looking down at her plain black T-shirt and cropped pants.

  "It doesn't matter," I insisted, gesturing to my own tee and jeans. "None of us are."

  "You look fine, sweetie," Kat agreed.

  "I could do your makeup really quick," Bronwyn offered. "I keep a few extra supplies in my car for emergencies." She caught my eye in the rearview mirror. "Ame, can you grab the little makeup bag under the back of my seat?"

  I did as Bron instructed and pulled out a duffel bag that could easily fit a small dog inside. "A few extra supplies?" I asked as I lugged the bag onto the center console.

  Bronwyn shrugged. "You should see the spread I've got at home. I own the whole Urban Decay and MAC lines. I'm an artist." She turned to Suzie, a sly grin curling her lips. "And your face is my canvas." Bron made quick work of applying a fresh layer of foundation, powder, and blush to Suzie. She deftly lined her eyes with dark black liner and blended light purple and gold eye shadow to her lids. After clumping about a month's worth of volumizing mascara onto the poor girl's lashes, Bron studied Suzie's face. "And now the lips," she said, rifling through her makeup bag. She came up empty-handed and frowned. "I must have left all my glosses at home." She leaned toward the backseat. "Anybody got lipstick?"

  "No, that's okay" Suzie said quickly. "I think you've done enough." She gave Bronwyn a strained smile.

  Bronwyn shrugged. "You're gonna look kinda weird with all that blush and no gloss, but suit yourself." She grasped Suzie's shoulders. "Turn around so everyone can admire your new look," she said, turning the woman slightly in her seat.

  Admire was a strong word.

  "Oh, wow," Kat breathed beside me. She gently poked my ribs with her elbow.

  "Um," I stammered. "You look…" I trailed off, wracking my brain for something nice to say. The poor girl looked like she might spend the rest of the night on a street corner, propositioning passersby for a five-dollar 'handy.' "…very colorful," I finished, hoping it was ambiguous enough to be considered a compliment.

  "You look gorgeous!" Ginger gushed. Kat and I whipped our heads toward the red-haired woman, our brows raised in surprise. Ginger reached over the back of Suzie's seat and squeezed her shoulder. "Simply stunning," she said. "Miss Sinclair is quite the cosmetologist."

  "My true calling," Bronwyn said, beaming proudly. I met Kat's gaze and shrugged. Maybe clown cheeks, nude lips, and clumpy tarantula eyelashes were considered stylish in L.A.

  "Thanks," Suzie said in her shy voice. I was relieved to see a smile touch her lips. Maybe now she'd finally loosen up.

  It was fully dark out by the time Bronwyn pulled her little lime green car into the parking lot behind the Saucy Minx in the Little Five Points neighborhood. "A strip club? On a Tuesday night?" Ginger exclaimed, gawking at the flashing neon sign above the door. She turned to me, her face pinched. "I thought we'd be the ones doing the dancing—not paying to watch other people strut around half-naked."

  "Relax," Bronwyn said as the car rolled to a stop. "This place is great. They have male and female dancers—plus it's eighteen and up, which means I can tag along instead of waiting out in the car all night while you ladies get your drink on."

  Ginger cast another uncertain look at the dilapidated brick building. "If you say so," she muttered, climbing out of the car.

  "I need a drink," Suzie said. She made a beeline for the entrance, and the rest of us had to hurry to keep up with her. The makeover seemed to have given her more confidence, at least. Either that or she needed liquid therapy to get through the next few hours without her rock star groom.

  The heavy thump of bass all but swallowed us as we stepped past the bouncer at the front door. The main room of the club was dimly lit, illuminated only by rotating spotlights above the two raised dancing platforms on either side of the room. Each light blinked rapidly in a strobe pattern. A male dancer performed on the
left stage, gyrating slowly as he showed off his, er, assets, while on the right side of the room, a red-haired woman swung from a pole, dressed in a green bra and panty combo covered in fake leaves. She looked like a slutty version of Poison Ivy.

  "It's like I've died and gone to the set of Magic Mike," Bronwyn murmured near my ear. Her wide green eyes were transfixed on the blond beefcake in a fireman's hat that was strutting across the men's stage.

  "I can't believe Reese was okay with you taking us here," I said.

  "He said I can look all I want as long as I don't touch." Bronwyn grinned. "Best boyfriend ever."

  I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the woman stripper's stage, scanning the area for Coral. "I don't see our girl," I said to Bron. "I'll ask the bartender if she's working." I turned to Ginger and Suzie. "You ladies want a drink? I'm buying."

  "Sure." Ginger smiled at me. I was glad to see that she had loosened up a bit, too. She grabbed Suzie by the arm and led her toward the bar in the center of the room. Kat and I followed while Bronwyn staked out an open table for our group.

  The bartender was a tall young brunette with her hair cut into a bob. She wore black leather shorts and a glittery purple tube top. Her gaze roved over Suzie's veil and sash, and a bright smile lit up her face. "A bachelorette party? How fun!" she exclaimed, turning to grab four shot glasses. "Congratulations. These first drinks are on the house." We thanked her and gave a quick toast to Suzie before tossing back the cinnamon-flavored whiskey shots. The liquor burned a path down my throat, pooling in my belly. I'd better not have too many of those if I plan to make any progress with this investigation, I thought, wiping my mouth with one of the bar napkins. I ordered a round of cocktails for the other ladies and discreetly asked the bartender to hand me a cranberry juice and Sprite, sans the alcohol.

  "Is Coral working tonight?" I asked as I handed the young woman my credit card.

  "Yep—you just missed her first set of the night, about twenty minutes ago. She'll be making rounds on the floor soon for lap dances, if you're into that." She gave me a sidelong glance.

  A nervous giggle escaped my throat. "Hah! No, no. Happily hetero here. She's just a friend, and I was hoping to say hello—though the bride-to-be over there might get a kick out of a quick dance, if you wouldn't mind sending her our way." I slipped the woman a five-dollar bill.

  The bartender nodded. "Sure thing."

  I thanked her and joined the other ladies at the table Bronwyn had secured. Suzie and Kat were chatting amicably as they sipped their fruity beverages, and Ginger was asking Bronwyn for makeup tips. "In my opinion, the more eyeliner, the better," Bronwyn was saying. "Your eyes can never be too dramatic."

  I turned my head to the side to hide my laughter, and I caught sight of Coral as she made her way toward our table. She was dressed in tight green shorts with sequins all over them, I assumed to resemble scales on a mermaid's fins. She wore a pink clamshell bra and had a matching shell pinning back one side of her golden hair. Her eyes lit up with recognition when she saw me. "Pepper Spray Girl!" she exclaimed as she sauntered toward our table. "I'm surprised to see you." She winked. "I didn't think you'd take me up on my offer for a dance."

  I rose from the table to intercept her just out of earshot of the other women. "I actually needed to talk to you about something," I said. "I've got a few questions for you."

  The stripper smirked. "Oh? Well, sorry honey, but I can only talk if I'm workin'." She looked past me to the table. "Twenty bucks for a three-minute lap dance or seventy-five for five minutes in a private room."

  "Private room, please!" Bronwyn chirped from right behind me. I whirled and gave her a startled look. Bron ignored me and smiled pleasantly at Coral. "Here." She fished around in the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a one-hundred-dollar bill. "Take my friend in there and give her whatever she wants," Bron told her, slapping me on the back. "That's from Kat and me," she whispered in my ear. "I told her you'd explain everything later. We'll keep the others occupied, and you can pay us back." Bronwyn gave me a little shove toward Coral, who took my hand and led me toward a row of curtained booths along the back wall of the room. I glanced back at the table, blushing fiercely. Ginger whistled and cheered as I was led away, and Kat winked. Even Suzie was laughing.

  Coral pulled back the red curtain to an empty booth and beckoned me inside. Swallowing hard, I stepped into the little room, glancing down in disdain at the black leather love seat. "Have a seat," Coral said in a sultry voice.

  "No thanks, I prefer to stand." No offense to her, but I had a pretty good idea of the types of things that went on in these private rooms. They could scrub down and sterilize that furniture three times a night, and you still couldn't pay me to sit on it. Ick. "I'll make this quick," I said, stepping awkwardly aside so that she could perch on the love seat. "I was hoping you could tell me what happened when you left the club with Sid Malone the other night."

  Coral's hazel eyes widened a fraction of an inch and then narrowed to thin slits. "I already talked to the police about that," she said, scowling. "I didn't kill him, dammit! He was alive when I left him, and the best I can tell, I was already on my way to lock-up by the time that douche bucket got what was comin' to 'im." She stood up and pulled Bronwyn's cash out of her seashell bra. "Get out," she said, handing it back to me. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore."

  "Wait!" I pleaded. "I knew Sid." I placed the money back in her hand and pulled out another twenty from my purse. "A good friend of mine is being framed for his murder. I'm just trying to find out what really happened that night. Anything you could tell me might help me keep someone I care about—an innocent someone—from behind bars. You know what it's like to spend time in one of those cells when you didn't do anything wrong. Please, Coral. Help me out, here."

  The young woman shook her golden hair out of her face and settled back onto the little couch. She deposited the cash back into her bra. "Fine," she muttered. "What else you wanna know?"

  "Just what happened when he left with you—where he went, where he was going when you last saw him—anything you can tell me will help."

  Coral crossed her arms over her chest, a thoughtful look on her pretty face. "We left the club around two in the morning," she said. "I thought the fella was charming at first. I brought him back here, and he bought a couple of lap dances. He was a real sweet talker, too." Her expression darkened. "But after I agreed to leave with him, he got kinda rough. He was gripping my wrist too tight and half-dragged me to his cab. I started getting nervous that I'd made a mistake going home with him, but then I was saved by the bell—literally."

  "What do you mean?"

  "His cell phone went off. Someone texted him, I guess. He read whatever was on the screen, and then his whole attitude changed. He didn't want nothin' to do with me anymore. He said he had unfinished business with some other chick. Sid had the cab stop and drop me off two blocks from the club, and I walked back."

  Some chick? I frowned. "How did Sid seem when he mentioned this other woman? Excited? Angry?"

  "Eager. And kinda—I don't know—a little wicked, maybe? Something about that dude just seemed a little off." Coral pulled a tiny stopwatch out of her shorts. "Time's up, darlin'," she said, rising from the couch and pulling back the curtain to the private booth. "I hope that you find out who really killed him."

  "Thank you," I said with sincerity. "I hope so, too." I stepped back into the main room and made a beeline for the table where Kat, Bronwyn, and Ginger were still seated.

  "How'd it go?" Ginger asked, waggling her eyebrows at me as I collapsed into a chair next to her. There were three empty martini glasses in front of her, and she quickly drained the fourth. "Didya hav'a good time?" she slurred.

  "It was, er, different," I replied, glancing at the empty chair where Jack's fiancée had previously been sitting. "Where's Suzie?"

  "I bought her a private dance, too," Bronwyn said, proudly. "She was a little hesitant at first, but then I let her pick the d
ancer. She went with Five-Alarm Fred—the fireman from earlier." Bron nodded her approval. "Excellent choice." She pulled a stack of one-dollar bills out of her pocket and handed a few to Kat. "Wanna go stuff these in Gyrating Jerry's G-string?" She gestured to the walking six-pack with eyes that was grinding across the stage floor on the men's side of the room.

  "Do I ever?" Kat grinned and snatched a few bills. She and Bron darted off in the direction of the humping hunk. That left me alone at the table with Ginger.

  My mind wandered back to what Coral the dancer had told me about the other woman who was texting Sid. Whoever she was, if he left to meet her then she must have been in Atlanta. A groupie that followed him from another stop on the tour? An old girlfriend from the days before Royal Flush moved to California? I glanced over at Ginger. Or a woman who's been close with him on the road all this time?

  I studied the red-haired tour manager with renewed interest as she bobbed her head along to the Lady Gaga song blasting from the club's speakers. She was in her early to mid-thirties—young enough to hold Sid's interest. Plus Ginger was pretty, and she had a nice figure. She'd also tried to chase after the spiky-haired bass player on the night he stormed out of Castle Rock. Maybe their relationship was more than just professional.

  Ginger suddenly stood up from the table, teetering back and forth. "Those things'll go straight to yer head, huh?" she slurred, gesturing to her empty martini glasses. She hiccupped. "I need to hit the little girls' room. Wanna come with?"

  I offered her a pleasant smile. "Sure. I could stand to freshen up a bit." I followed Ginger as she waddled past the bar toward the restrooms in the back corner of the building. She rushed into the only empty stall as I jockeyed for a position in front of the crowded restroom mirror. A few minutes later, the band manager reappeared and joined me at the counter. "So," I said casually as I touched up my mascara. "What's the scoop from the road? Any scandalous hookups or crazy backstage gossip?"