Extra Dirty

by Mia Gold

  So maybe Bridget did something Dirty Dancer didn’t like. But why stab her to death? The girls working at The Tropical Twerker all looked like they could handle themselves, certainly with an out of shape female client. This didn’t look like a case of self-defense, but rather one of rage. So many stab wounds. Maybe Bridget triggered something in Dirty Dancer, something that caused her to fly off the handle.

  Ruby bit her lip. An experienced prostitute resorting to murder because a client upset her? That didn’t sit right.

  Her later behavior didn’t sit right either. How had she dumped Helen across town? Why rob one and not the other? Why not show up back at work and answer her calls and pretend everything was all right? Disappearing like she had only brought more suspicion on her. If she had acted like everything was all right and had enough luck that the night staff didn’t remember her well enough to pick her out of a police lineup, she could have walked. Now she was Suspect Number One. She should have played it cool.

  And she could have played it cool. All she had to do was hide her feelings. Prostitutes were good at hiding their true feelings. It was part of the job description.

  So maybe someone else killed Bridget Hansen.

  If so, how did Dirty Dancer fit in? Why wasn’t she dead here with her? Why wasn’t Helen?

  Another detail made Ruby wince. Bridget still wore her wedding ring. It was on the hand with the two sheared fingers—the forefinger and middle finger. The ring was caked with dried blood, almost invisible beneath a giant grisly scab. She wondered if the police would tell Aaron that detail before they returned it to him.

  Ruby looked away, overcome. As she turned her head, a gleam of metal caught her eye.

  A watch was jammed between the chest of drawers and the wall. It must have fallen there.

  Ruby plucked it out. It was gold, not high end but not cheap either. Obviously not Dirty Dancer’s. Inside the strap was an inscription.

  “Happy Anniversary,” plus a heart.

  Sadness welled up in her, not just for this foolish, cheating woman lying dead on the bed, and for her clueless and soon to be heartbroken husband, but also for herself. She had never had a proper romantic relationship. She had had lovers, but no real love. Her life had been filled with training, and after her injury stopped her career, her life had been filled with booze and regret. Even normal, everyday people like Aaron and Bridget got love and what they thought was a stable relationship. ‘Til death do us part.

  A stable relationship? Those two? Yes. Ruby had seen it many times. A lot of people came to bars to cheat, and then went back home to their spouses as if nothing had happened. Ruby could have never believed it until she had worked as a bartender, but people can cheat and still care about the relationship they’re betraying. Bridget might have had scores of secret flings with female prostitutes and still lived with Aaron for the rest of her life.

  But all actions have consequences, and this quiet girl’s secret trysts had ended her life and ruined Aaron’s.

  Ruby looked at the watch in her hand, an anniversary gift. A testament to love and a promise of lifelong devotion. What would Aaron think of it when he learned the details of this case?

  Impossible to know. She pocketed the watch. She’d give it to him, tell him what she had learned. The cops here couldn’t be relied on to give him the details, or even give him the watch back in a timely fashion. She would have to have a long, hard conversation with the man who had chased her across the golf course.

  Now came a longer and even harder conversation. She needed to call the police.

  Or did she?

  She had nothing really keeping her in the Bahamas, and several reasons to leave, not the least that an assassin was still after her. Plus the police already found her suspicious, the State Department was closing in, thugs wanted to turn her into a bare-knuckle boxing star, and now this mess. She had nearly ten thousand dollars hidden in her house from the last case she had solved. She could leave this sorry scene behind, grab it, and take the next plane out to anywhere.

  That wouldn’t solve a damn thing, though. This body would be found sooner rather than later, and when it did it wouldn’t take much of an investigation to find that Ruby had been involved in the search for Bridget. Her disappearance would set off an international alert.

  No. Despite the temptation to sneak out of there and pretend she hadn’t seen anything, the call needed to be made. The bartender and night manager had spoken with her, the CCTV caught her entering the hotel, and she had kicked in the door to the murdered woman’s room. If she didn’t call, she’d be a suspect.

  Knowing the police the way she did, she’d be a suspect anyway. This would at least cut down on their suspicions.

  And she had another reason to make the call, a deeper reason. Running had never solved anything for her, and running again wouldn’t solve anything either.

  She needed to stay put and find out who murdered Bridget Hansen.

  Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she pulled out her phone.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The police showed up with the two detectives Ruby least wanted to see. Homicide Chief Detective Knowles Anderson was a light-skinned man of mixed heritage who dressed in a tight-fitting white suit. The suit was both a good and a bad choice of attire. While it showed off an impressive amount of muscle for a man in his middle years, it also highlighted the beginnings of a paunch that tagged him as a beer drinker. He really should switch to rum.

  Detective Anderson knew how to do his job and had found out far too much about Ruby for her liking. If he hadn’t been grateful for her helping him crack the case of the body in the dumpster, she would be in a world of hurt right now.

  Tailing behind him came someone who promised even more trouble—Detective Ayanna Pinder, a female Bahamian officer in her early thirties. She had hated Ruby at first sight. The feeling had been mutual.

  “Ruby Steele,” Detective Anderson said with false cheer. “How good to see you again. A bit of bad luck, eh? Second murder scene this month. I hope you don’t plan on making a habit of it.”

  Ruby stood in the hallway outside the room, with the poor night manager who looked like he was about to do a Reece imitation and a pair of patrolmen who flanked her, as if wondering whether to arrest her or not.

  “Mind telling us why you’re here?” Detective Pinder asked, staring at Ruby with open hatred.

  God, why did it have to be these two? Pinder wanted her blood, and Ruby got the impression that Anderson had taken on investigating her suspicious lifestyle as a sort of hobby.

  At least she had an answer ready. Ruby had been practicing her response ever since running down to the night manager with her Scared Woman act.

  “I got an anonymous note telling me to come here, saying a woman was in trouble. When no one responded to the knock, I kicked in the door.”

  “You didn’t ask him to unlock the door?” Detective Pinder asked, indicating the night manager.

  “The note said it was urgent. I didn’t feel like I had the time.”

  “And where is this note?” Detective Anderson asked.

  Whoops. Ruby hadn’t thought of that. With the shock of finding the body, she realized she hadn’t been thinking straight.

  “I don’t have it anymore,” she blurted.

  Not exactly the best reply, Ruby.

  “Why not?”

  “Someone slipped it under my door at home. I lost it on the way over here.”

  The two detectives exchanged glances, then looked back at her.

  “Your excuses are getting worse and worse,” Detective Anderson said.

  “It’s like you’ve lied so much you’re getting tired of it and keep on slipping,” Detective Pinder added.

  Yeah, that’s pretty close to the truth.

  “A Freudian slip perhaps,” Detective Anderson suggested. “A cry for help by a criminal on the run who has grown tired of the life of a fugitive.”

  The two cops flanking her edged in
a little closer.

  “Why would someone send you a note anyway?” Detective Anderson asked.

  Ruby took a deep breath. “Because of the last case. Everyone at The Pirate’s Cove knows I solved—” Detective Anderson frowned “—helped solve that murder, and word has gotten around. Now people I don’t even know stop me on the street and ask about it.”

  Detective Anderson put on a look of mock surprise and turned to everyone else in the hallway. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are in the presence of a celebrity!”

  The two cops snorted. The night manager eyed her suspiciously.

  “Why didn’t this mysterious person call you?” Detective Pinder asked.

  Ruby shrugged. “Probably so the call wouldn’t be traced.”

  “Yeah, then you’d have to produce evidence,” the female detective grumbled.

  “She told me something different,” the night manager blurted. “She came in saying someone was stalking her in the parking lot. I went out and didn’t see anybody. When I came back, she was behind the counter. Then she asked for someone in room 201. A few minutes later she came down saying she had found the woman in here.”

  Detective Anderson turned to one of the patrolmen. “Go check Room 201.”

  The cop nodded and walked off. Detective Anderson gave Ruby a sharp look, and then the two homicide detectives moved to the doorway to have a longer look at the ugly scene inside. Ruby moved to the doorway to watch. The remaining policeman stood right behind her.

  “Multiple stab wounds,” Detective Pinder said. “Signs of struggle but I don’t see any bruises or a knife. Did you find a murder weapon?”

  “No, and before you ask, these officers already searched me.”

  “As well they should have. Did you find anything at all inside the room?” Detective Pinder asked.

  “I didn’t go inside. As soon as I saw the dead woman, I rushed out to inform the night manager.”

  As soon as she said it, she realized she had trapped herself in yet another lie. If she had admitted to taking the watch, she would have been guilty of tampering with a crime scene. But now that she hadn’t told them, she was guilty of lying to a police officer about a homicide. A moment of pity for Aaron had landed her in a world of trouble.

  How do I get myself into these situations?

  “Do you know this woman?” Detective Anderson asked.

  “No.”

  No, but I know her friend, and I can’t believe I’m covering for her. I must have a soft spot for stupid people in trouble.

  And a hard spot for inefficient cops. If I told them about Helen, they’d drag her in as a suspect, and my gut tells me she’s innocent.

  Of course, my gut has been wrong before …

  Detective Pinder turned to her. “You sure you haven’t met her before?”

  “No. I just told you.”

  That, at least, was the truth.

  The officer returned. “The man in Room 201 says no one has come to visit him all evening, sir.”

  The night manager nodded eagerly. He obviously wanted Ruby to get in trouble to shift any responsibility away from him.

  “Why did you lie?” Detective Anderson asked, moving in close to her.

  Ruby tensed, her fighting instincts alerted. The detective had invaded her space, something no one got to do without a fight.

  Fighting this guy would be a seriously bad idea, though.

  She forced herself to relax.

  “I wasn’t sure if the note was genuine, or if something else was going on. I didn’t want to involve the manager.”

  “So you suspected criminal activity and didn’t want any witnesses to know what room you really visited?”

  “No, I—”

  “You are an incredibly bad liar!” Detective Pinder barked.

  Yeah, you got a point there.

  Ruby said nothing.

  “Tell us why we shouldn’t arrest you right now,” the female detective went on.

  “Because if I did it, I wouldn’t have called you. I wouldn’t have kicked the door in. I’d be a thousand miles from here.”

  “I wonder why you aren’t,” Detective Anderson murmured. He had found some irregularities in her life here, like the fact that her name wasn’t on any bills and that she used a burner phone. While he had waived any investigation as a thank you for her helping out on the previous murder, that had not allayed his suspicions.

  She strongly suspected that hadn’t stopped him digging into her past either.

  He turned to face the night manager. Ruby let out an audible breath of relief at no longer being the center of attention.

  “When did this woman check in?”

  “Two nights ago. I was on duty.”

  “Did she check in with anyone else?”

  The man looked uncomfortable. “Um, yes. A Bahamian woman.”

  “Can you describe this woman?”

  “About 25 or so, average size, wearing a halter top and a leather miniskirt. I got the impression that she wasn’t a friend but rather an, um, business associate.”

  Dirty Dancer.

  “You mean a prostitute,” Detective Anderson said.

  The night manager straightened. “We prefer not to make negative assumptions about the lifestyles of our guests.”

  Detective Anderson grinned at Ruby and jabbed a thumb in the night manager’s direction. “You two make quite a pair. Don’t start dating. You’ll give me migraines.”

  “Can I go now?” Ruby asked.

  Detective Anderson stared at her for a long moment. Ruby managed to meet his gaze.

  She hadn’t been able to the last time he had done that. She had learned a lot since then, most importantly that while the chief of homicide was suspicious, more than a little sexist, and far too good at his job for Ruby to keep her past secret for long, he was essentially fair.

  The same could not be said for Detective Pinder.

  “Run along,” Detective Anderson said, causing his assistant to let out an angry grunt. “Come to the station at noon tomorrow so we can have a little chat. Do you still have that burner phone no decent citizen would ever think of buying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great! I’ll call you if we need to have a chat earlier. Do you still live at that house where there’s no record of your residence?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. See you at noon tomorrow.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Ruby muttered, and moved to leave.

  She almost made it to the door when Detective Anderson’s next words stopped her dead.

  “Oh, Ruby. There’s some chatter on the street of a new bare-knuckle fighter doing some illegal matches somewhere. An American woman. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “No,” Ruby choked out. Her guts felt like Detective Anderson had just pushed his hands through her flesh and given them a twist.

  Detective Anderson gave a little shrug.

  “Hm. Sounds like something you’d be into. Purely as a spectator, mind you.”

  “Not me.” She turned to leave again.

  “I’m glad to see the bruises are healing up nicely. A mugging you said, right? Didn’t get a good look at their faces? A girl’s got to be careful in this town. Shouldn’t be mixing with the wrong people. Well anyway, see you tomorrow.”

  Ruby left without saying another word, not trusting herself to keep her voice steady.

  She was in for a world of hurt tomorrow. Especially if she didn’t crack this case.

  And she had no idea what to do next.

  Except to confront Helen. Ruby didn’t believe her selective amnesia any more than the Nassau homicide squad believed Ruby’s claims of having an uneventful life.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ruby sat in the parking lot of Helen’s hotel, trying to summon the nerve to go in and tell Helen the horrible news. Ruby had called on the way over, telling her that she needed to speak with her immediately. She did not tell her why.

  Ruby wanted to see
her reaction.

  Whatever her reaction, Ruby knew it would not be pleasant to see.

  Taking a deep breath, Ruby gave a sleeping Zoomer a final pat and got out, glancing at the missing hubcaps and smashed sideview mirror. She’d break that to Helen later. Tonight they had more important things to talk about.

  She passed through the foyer, nodding to the woman behind the front desk. No burly security here, not like in the Serene View Golf Resort. The criminal world of Nassau wouldn’t bother going after these slim pickings.

  And yet they had. Why?

  Ruby took the elevator up to the fourth floor, that question going around and around in her mind. She got out, passed a laughing couple in the hallway, and knocked on the door to room 423.

  She heard the sound of hurried movement within. After a couple of seconds, the door flung open. Helen, looking even more tired than the last time Ruby had seen her, stood in a bathrobe, hair awry and with bloodshot eyes.

  “Did you find her?” A waft of alcohol came out of the room along with the question.

  “We had better sit down.”

  Helen’s face fell, the alcohol ruddiness washing away. She said nothing as she walked across an unremarkable-looking hotel room and sat on the end of the double bed. Ruby softly closed the door behind her and sat on the chair at the desk.

  She tried to think of a buildup, a way to soften the blow. She came up with nothing.

  So she just came out and said it.

  “I found Bridget in a budget hotel called the Moonlight Lodge.”

  Helen turned a shade paler. “Found?”

  “She’s dead. She’s been murdered.”

  Helen’s jaw dropped. “That’s not possible.”

  Ruby simply nodded.

  “B-but why?”

  “I don’t know yet. She had been stabbed multiple times. The hotel manager says she came in with a local woman, probably Dirty Dancer judging from the description. No trace of her so far. The police are there now.”