Out of Body by Stella Cameron Page B

swum through, and its consistency was as if it had been mixed with light oil. Pretty in a way.
    A big hand shot out from beside her to throw down a fifty. “The lady’s drink is on me, Danny,” the blond man said. “Take it out of that.”
    Marley rallied quickly and looked Danny in the eye. “I’ll be running my own tab,” she said, pleased that she could sound as if she did this sort of thing regularly.
    “You’ve got it,” Danny said, ignoring Blondy’s money.
    “What’s the singer’s name?” Marley asked.
    Danny squinted, appeared to become distant. He looked past Marley. “That’s Sidney. She got the pianist for tonight. Amber, that’s her partner, she plays the keyboard—and sings, mind you. Now that girl’s got the voice of an angel.”
    Marley turned back to stare at the singer. This was the Sidney of Amber and Sidney. Right there. It was far more than she had hoped for. She had to know where Amber lived, who her friends were, and at least something that would be useful in helping to find the woman. The police probably already knew the details, but they wouldn’t be sharing any information with her.
    After making the mistake of being direct with him that afternoon, Detective Archer had treated her kindly enough, if a virtual pat on the head and a warning not to let what she saw on television fool with her imagination were kind.
    Archer had warned Marley that people who tried to get attention by pretending to know something about a crime could get into big trouble. The tingling embarrassment she had felt then made a return appearance and she hunched her shoulders.
    A cloth in Danny’s hands squeaked around the rim of a glass. When Marley looked at him, he was staring at her and frowning. He threw down the cloth and crossed his arms on the bar again, leaning closer to Marley. “It’s late,” he said. “Can you call someone to come and see you home when you’re ready?”
    “I’ll be fine.” She smiled, liking him for the concern. “I’ll get a cab.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “Having a martini,” she said. So she stuck out like a nun at a Chippendale show.
    “Okay, have it your own way, then.”
    “Thank you, though.” She smiled at him. “Does Sidney…Do Amber and Sidney sing here every night?”
    “They used to,” he said, noncommittal. “Most nights, anyway.”
    “When did they come back?”
    “This is Sidney’s first night back since…Amber—you’ve heard of Amber before?”
    “I have.” Nothing would be gained by pretending otherwise. “And I know she’s missing, but you talk as if she’s still here.”
    He gave her a speculative stare and moved away to serve several other customers. For the time of night there was plenty of business around.
    Sidney had a face not easily forgotten. Latin features and olive skin. Dark arched brows, large, heavily-lashed brown eyes, a narrow-bridged nose, fine, high cheekbones and jaw. Her hair shone honey-colored, but Marley didn’t think it was the natural color—it ought to be black. A lovely woman with a lovely figure—and something markedly aloof about her.
    A different bartender asked if she wanted anotherdrink. Marley looked at her almost untouched glass and shook her head.
    “Can I talk to you?” Danny appeared at her right shoulder. He was anxious, everything about him troubled—and vigilant.
    “Of course,” she told him, excited in case she was finally about to learn something useful.
    He led her between round, brass-topped tables to one of the alcoves where looped and fringed draperies gave an impression of privacy for the table and banquettes inside. They slid onto seats upholstered in green cabbage-rose fabric.
    “Are you here about Amber?” Danny said without preamble. “You don’t look like a cop, but that doesn’t mean you’re not one.”
    “I’m not one.”
    “But—”
    “Yes, I came to see if I could find out anything about Amber.”
    “You’re just looking for a diversion?” Danny