Last Shot (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator, Book 6) by Mike Faricy Page B

at tables, hunkered down in their own private world. The exception being the guys along the edge of the stage with dollar bills folded in front of them, watching the strippers. The girls would give them that little extra bit of attention, maybe a couple of winks and a smile then blow them a kiss before they bent down and picked up the cash.
    “Anything els e?” she asked, sliding four ones across the bar, my change. She seemed a little surprised I hadn’t turned to watch the entertainment.
    “ Keep the change,” I said, thinking six bucks for an eight-ounce beer, Jesus. “Actually, maybe there is one thing. I’m checking something for a friend, trying to get some information. Maybe you can help me?”
    “A friend? Yeah, sure you are, Pal. Look, company policy, we don’t give out the names or phone numbers of the girls. We sure as hell don’t give out addresses and we don’t deliver notes. That just about cover any information you’re looking for?”
    I was suddenly thinking I might have been better off bringing dinner over to Heidi.
    “No, that’s not what I want…”
    “We don’t have pictures or videos of them and we don’t sell their thongs either. And, no, we don’t allow you to photograph on the premises. All the girls here are private contractors. If you can get one of ‘em to talk to you when they come around, whatever you line up is between them and you. Got it?”
    “Hey , calm down, will you? I just wanted a beer and some information on a friend of mine who used to work here.”
    “Sure you do. I f she’s such a good friend, why don’t you just give her a call?” she asked, then crossed her arms, leaned back and glared.
    I was usually a polite guy, but I’d just about had it with the attitude.
    “Believe me , I’d love to give her a call, love to hear her voice. But see a couple a days ago some asshole put two slugs in her head.”
    “You knew Desi?”
    “I had breakfast with her that morning. I’m a private investigator and I’m trying to find out whatever I can. She told me she’d just started tending bar here, pulling a couple of weekend shifts. She was busting her ass over at Karla’s Karwash during the week. I thought she was getting everything back together, and then someone shot her,” I said. I took a card out of my pocket and pushed it across the bar.
    She took a moment to read my card, turned it over probably to look for a message or to see if she’d won a prize. I wasn’t sure which.
    “Okay , ask away,” she yelled just as the music stopped. A couple of heads turned to look at us, but everyone stayed seated. A male voice suddenly came over the sound system.
    “That’s one of our favorites, Misty. Give a round of applause to the gorgeous and talented Misty.”
    Naked Misty was down on all fours, picking up dollar bills from the stage. She seemed to ignore the two guys applauding. She stood up, collected the red lingerie she’d tossed in the corner and walked off. A thin smattering of applause and a shrill whistle followed her off stage.
    “I don’t know where to start. Anything you can tell me, anything she may have said could help. Was there ever an incident or maybe an altercation? Maybe something that stands out?”
    “Well…”
    “And now let’s welcome back the popular Brandi,” the male voice said as a brunette in a cowboy hat, boots and a very small thong pranced on stage riding a hobby horse. Some non-descript music began to blare from a static-filled speaker and I had to lean across the bar so I could listen to what she was saying.
    “She didn’t seem to have any trouble here, at least that I know of. She was a pretty careful girl. Didn’t really stand for no guys chatting her up, ya know.”
    I nodded like I knew.
    “Yeah, she was a good little worker, too. Got some nice tips. Far as I can tell she never had no problems here. Girls all seemed to like her, I guess.”
    I nodded again then asked, “Did anyone ever come in to see her? She ever