Olga moved away from Michael. Relieved he was there now, she said, "Ride down with me and wait with me until I can hail a cab. I stayed too late and feel a little freaked out."
"A little? I thought you were going to pass out when I touched you. What has your knickers in a twist?"
"Did you hear about the murder over by the Old Vic theatre?" The elevator doors opened and they stepped on.
"I did, but that's way across the river from us. Why would that spook you? Do you live over that way?" Michael pushed the button for the ground floor.
"No." Olga shook her head. "I knew the victim."
"Oh, that's awful, Miss Quinn. Have you known her long?"
"No. I met her yesterday. She's a good friend of Gina Boudreau's. I went out with them last night and Marisol, the girl, was killed on her way home. It was her hen party." Olga wiped a stray tear off her cheek. "It's so tragic. I mean, it would've been awful anyway, but it seems doubly unfair, doesn't it? There she was on the verge of a happy life and then, poof, she's gone. Dead. It's over." Olga pushed aside the thoughts of another dead girl with effort. It wouldn't do to have a breakdown here at her workplace.
"You're right. It does seem to make it worse, doesn't it?"
The elevator doors open and they stepped off. At the door, Michael said, "Let me go out and grab you a black cab. Wait here."
"No. I'll come with you. I don't want to be alone."
"Do you have a roommate at your flat?" He smiled.
"No. Why?"
"You'll be alone when you get home, won't you?"
She let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah, but that's different."
"How so?" Michael scratched his head.
"My two friends--"
"Thought you said you live alone," he interrupted.
"Oh, I do. The friends I'm talking about are Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson. They live in my bedroom in the drawer of my nightstand. I'm from Texas. We all have those kind of friends."
"I like that." Michael held the door open and Olga passed though. He went out on the street and flagged down a passing cab.
Once she was settled inside, Michael said, "Be careful, Miss Quinn. Try to have a nice weekend."
"Thanks."
Michael shut the door. Olga sat back in the seat and relaxed a bit as the cab left the curb.
*****
After a restless night of tossing and turning and looking at the clock at what seemed like every hour on the half hour, Olga finally threw back the covers at six a.m. and got up.
She'd spent every weekend since her move to the United Kingdom in doing her best to take in all the sights and museums of the capital city. On this particular Saturday, she'd planned to visit the Victoria and Albert Museum to take in the new exhibition of ball gowns from the Fifties to the modern age. Olga wasn't a dressy kind of woman but she'd long been fascinated by fashions over the ages and looked forward to seeing the dresses worn by the famous people of the latter half of the nineteenth century.
As soon as she got up, realizing she wasn't in the mood to wander through an exhibition, she decided she'd take a picnic lunch to the park instead. She didn't think she could face being inside when her mind was still in turmoil over the death of Marisol.
She boiled a couple of eggs and placed them in a small, insulated tote bag along with a little plastic container of hummus. She slid in a few pita squares and a bottle of water. Once she was ready, she picked up her purse, the tote and grabbed her newspaper from the box outside the door of her flat.
Olga walked down the street toward the park closest to her home. She wore a pair of knee length khaki shorts and a pink polo shirt. The air was a little cool for shorts, and she missed the heat of Texas. Almost before she arrived at the corner, she regretted the wardrobe choice. She turned to head back to her flat to change.
She stopped in her tracks. One of the women from the hen party on Thursday night stood on the sidewalk with a tall man. Olga stepped over to them. She addressed the woman. "Hello. Remember me? I'm Olga Quinn. I was with Gina Boudreau at Marisol's party."
The woman gave her a bleak look. "I do remember you. This is my brother, Simon Seeger." She indicated the man beside her with a tilt of her head.
Scouring her memory for the woman's name, Olga held her hand out to shake Simon's hand. "So sorry about Marisol. Have you heard any details about who did it?"
Simon took Olga's hand. "No one knows anything. We're on the way to the florist to order flowers for the services for her." He turned to his sister. "Kathryn here wants to get an arrangement of white blossoms. They were Marisol's favorites."
"I didn't know her well enough to know that." Olga let go of Simon's hand. He seemed to be pretty broken up about the loss of his friend. More so than his sister. Olga idly wondered if there was a history between the tall, blond man and the bride who'd been dressed as Alice in Wonderland.
Kathryn said, "We better go. Will you be at the service?"
"I doubt it. I really didn't know her." Olga nodded toward the building behind them. "I live up there. I'll see you around." She moved past them and went up the outside flight of stairs up to her flat to change into some slacks.
Once at the park, Olga sat on the bankside and watched the ducks and swans as they floated out on the water. She opened her newspaper and read a little about what was happening that evening in the entertainment section. Intending to read the hard news later, she was surprised to hear a voice she recognized on the radio of the people who were seated near her. She folded the newspaper, sat it down beside her and shamelessly eavesdropped on radio show.
Gabriel Swicord was interviewing one of the members of a 1970s rock band. In between the interview questions, he played some of the band's songs. His voice mesmerized Olga and she was disappointed when the people next to her packed up and left. She opened her tote and ate her small lunch before she went back to her flat.
On the way, she decided she had to return to the nightclub soon. She needed -- no, craved -- the sound of his voice. Confused over her strong desire to continue to listen to him, she was determined to get to the bottom of her feelings and knew the only way was to sit down with the man and see exactly what his hold on her was.
Chapter Five
"All are not merry that dance."
English Proverb
Gabriel worked at the Retro Disco as a way not to have to be alone at his flat after his day job at the radio station. Ever since what everyone called his accident, and what he called the end of the world as he knew it, he couldn't stand to be alone with his thoughts and tried to stay busy and surrounded by people at all times.
After Saturday's shift on the air, he returned to his flat just long enough to take a quick shower and change from his dress slacks and button-down shirt. Out of the shower, he entered his very organized closet that his housekeeper kept orderly with the assistance of Braille labels. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a faded old Peter Frampton concert tee from the alphabetical stack. Not that he liked Peter Frampton but he did try to wear tees from the era the club tried to evoke. He wanted to be part of the ambiance. He snickered as he yanked the shirt down over his head. Pete Frampton was a personal friend of Gabe's father but Gabe didn't care for the synthesizer-type music the man played. Pete was a great guy, but not Gabe's type in music.
Once he was ready to go, Gabe walked to the disco using his cane to tap along the sidewalk and hoped not to find anything else untoward. When he arrived at his destination, he folded the cane and, using his key, entered through the employee's entrance. He moved toward his booth to get ready for the night. Hopeful for no hen parties and no dead brides, he kept his head down, intent on getting his set ready for the evening.
As he slid the key to the control booth into the lock, he smelled his boss' cologne. He turned. "Hello, Jacob."
"Damn. Never can sneak up on you."
"I wish you'd stop trying. Did you need me for something before the night gets started?"
"I was wondering if you could do a private part
y tomorrow after the club closes."
"Whoa, that's kind of short notice. For who?"
"Sorry about that. I didn't get the call myself until earlier today."
"You haven't answered me. Who for?" Gabe smelled a rat. He didn't want to commit until he got the details.
"Are you free tomorrow?" Jacob's voice had a tremor in it that didn't pass Gabe's notice.
Acting on the gut instinct that had only ever let him down once, Gabe said, "No. As a matter of fact, I have plans."
"What kind of plans?"
"Look, I need to get to work. Are we done here?" Gabe turned the key in the lock and opened the door.
"I guess so." Jacob's voice got fainter as he moved away. He muttered something under his breath.
"What did you just say?"
"Nothing. I was merely thinking out loud about the liquor stock. I need to make a list of what we're short on."
"Yeah, right. Sure." Gabe shut the door to the booth, put his cane up and sat on his stool. Sure he'd heard the word Martin, he decided he'd have to do a little investigation on what exactly his boss wanted him to do with that private part. He'd better not have been setting me up to do something for Martin. I will not believe it if he is. It'd be ultimate betrayal. Well, the second ultimate betrayal.
Gabe ran his index finger over the face of his watch. Showtime in about ten minutes. He lined up the first hour of songs in order and put the initial three onto the turntables. He was ready.
Soon enough, the place started to fill up. Gabe cued the music and the dance floor started to get crowded. He puttered around in the booth getting the rest of the line-up ready for the night, leaving space for special requests.
Once he was set, he opened the window of the booth, the universal signal to the club clientele that he was open for chatting and for requests. It wasn't long until the first customer approached. Gabe recognized the woman's voice and perfume right away. It was a young woman named Mary. She always asked for a song by The Who. It didn't really matter which one. She'd confided to Gabe that she thought one of the members of the band was her father, but Gabe doubted it. He felt a bit sorry for the girl for her obsession and evident need to be someone important and he always made a point to be kind to her.
Tonight was no different. She asked for Happy Jack. Gabe smiled. "Good choice, Mary. That's always been one of my favorites. I'll get it on as soon as I can."
"Thanks, Gabe. I think you're wonderful. I'd love to have a drink with you sometime. Wouldn't that be nice?" Mary was practically gushing and Gabe went cold.
Uh-oh. He couldn't have this. Why did these girls always want more than a song played? Had she been asking for these songs not because she liked the music but only to get to know him? To get to talk to him? No. He couldn't believe that.
Mary leaned into the window. "Come on, Gabe. Say yes. It would be so nice."
He shook his head. "I don't date customers, Mary."
She snorted. "What are you talking about? It's not like students and teachers, there's no conflict."
"Let's just say I think it complicates things for me needlessly."
"That's not very nice."
Another voice chimed in, "Am I interrupting?"
Gabe glanced toward the speaker as Mary said, "This guy is a big old meanie-head. Be warned. He'll play the song you want but he won't share a cocktail with you."
"That's perfectly fine with me." The second woman addressed Gabe. "Can I make a request?"
Mary huffed and Gabe could discern her spin on her heel and stalk away. "So, did you come over her to tell me what kind of person I am, finally?"
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
He pointed at her. "You. Last night. Spilled drink. Remember? You said I was acting a like a typical person like me. You never told me exactly what that was."
"How the hell did you know that I was the same person from last night?"
"Hey, I'm blind, not stupid." Gabe barked a laugh.
"Still, you have to admit, it's a little weird. You don't know what I look like, you've only heard my voice once and you pegged me for the woman you talked to for a few minutes one time. It's very impressive and I want to know how you do it."
"In one sentence you call me weird and in the next, you call me impressive. Which is it?"
"Weirdly impressive. So, how'd you do it? Really?"
Gabe could hear the smile in her voice. She actually seemed nicer tonight than she had the evening before. "It's a combination of voice and scent. I've learned to master putting the two together. I usually associate people with the way they smell and speak. With you, it's easier."
"Why's that?"
"Let's start with that Texas drawl."
"And go where from there? Since American and twang is a dead giveaway."
Gabe leaned out the window and rested his elbows on the ledge. "From there, we go to the combination of jasmine, sandalwood and grapefruit, which I believe is a mixture of your shampoo and the top-note of your perfume."
"Well, I've made a decision."
"And what's that?" Gabe grinned because he could tell from the tone of her voice that she was delighted with his answer.
"Between weird and impressive, my decision is impressive. Hands down."
"Thank you, ma'am." Gabe bowed his head. "But you came over her to make a request, didn't you?"
"I did. I wonder if you have any Electric Light Orchestra?"
"Do I? You bet I do. I've always liked them." Gabe bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He certainly was not a big fan of the band but no way was he going to tell her when she was being so much friendlier than the previous evening. He needed to keep goodwill in the club, after all.
She tapped him on the forearm. "I don't believe you, but I'll let it go for now."
"I'll play one for you in a few minutes."
"Thanks. I'll look forward to it." The woman tapped again on his arm. "I'll let you get back to work."
Before she could walk away, Gabe said, "When I go on break, do you want to have a lager with me?"
"Sure. That'd be nice. I'm here alone tonight so it'll be a treat to have someone to talk to for a little while."
"Why are you alone? No friends wanted to come out tonight?"
"I didn't ask. The group I was with Thursday night wouldn't want to come out tonight since one of them was the girl that was killed right down the street. I figured they were all too upset to want to go clubbing again so soon."
Gabe leaned further out the window and reached for her hand. "Sorry about the loss of your friend, but I'm curious why you weren't too upset to come out."
The woman pulled her arm away. "I'm not an unfeeling bitch, you know."
"I didn't say you were. I only asked a question."
"A question that makes me sound like a horrible person."
"If you're that sensitive about the question, maybe you have a reason to be."
"If you must know, I barely knew the girl. Had never met her until that night and, even then, I wasn't properly introduced to her. So, yeah, maybe I am insensitive but it's really none of your business, is it?" The woman spun on her heel and stalked off.
Gabe called after her, "I'm sorry. Drinks?"
She waved her hand over her head. Gabe could vaguely see the motion of her arm but had no idea what it meant. Yes or no to drinks? Hell, even when he had his full sight, he wouldn't have known what that meant. And she was wrong about one thing for sure. She was sensitive. Sensitive like a sore-tailed bear.
"Who's the babe?" Jacob Rhys asked as he walked up to the deejay booth.
"Which one? Mary or the other woman?"
"I know who Mary is and she's not the least attractive, so obviously the other one."
"I have no idea who she is. Met her last night. Sort of."
"What's her name?"
Gabe let out a bark of laughter. "I've got no idea. How's that for suave? I'm losing my touch for sure. Two conversations and no name."
"You sure are losing
it. A cracking girl like that and you haven't even gotten past the introductions?"
"What's she look like?" Gabe held up his right index finger. "Wait a second. I've got to queue up another set of songs. Don't want the moment of silence we had the other night, do we?" He stepped backward into the booth area and got the next set of songs ready to play.
Once he'd returned to the window, Gabe said, "Tell me how she looks. She smells great and has a wonderful husky voice."
"Looks don't matter, do they? Isn't all about personality?"
"Very funny, Rhys. You know I've never been about a women's physical features but I do still like to know what people look like."
"She's gorgeous. I quite fancy her myself. She has long black hair to her waist. Very glossy and so dark it almost looks purple under the lights."
"What about her face?"
"What about it? If looks don't matter, why are you asking about that?"
"Because I want to know, damn it." Gabe slammed his hand on the ledge in the moment that a customer came up to the window.
Gabe addressed the person who stood next to Jacob. "What can we do for you this evening?"
"I wanted to request a song," a man with a deep voice said.
"Sure. What song?" Gabe forced a smile to his lips.
"Rod Stewart's Do you think I'm sexy."
"Good choice, my man. I'll get it on so you can make the moves on the girl of your choice."
"Thanks, Gabe. I hope the girl likes the choice as much as I like her."
"I hope she thinks you're as sexy as Rod." Gabe wished the man luck with his quest for romance.
When the customer stepped away, Gabe realized that Jacob had walked away as well. He shrugged and closed the window to the booth to shut out further requests until he played the ones already promised. He felt his watch to determine how soon he could take a break. He was determined to find out the name of the woman from Texas who could be nice one moment and icy the next. Intriguing.
*****
Olga sat and sipped her dirty martini. She listened to Gabriel's patter as he introduced songs and tapped her foot along to a number of them. She was on her second martini of the night and enjoying the music even though she was alone. Soon enough, a man in a blue button-up shirt and a pair of khakis came over to her table.
Moon Dance Page 3