Page 57 of Devil's Marker

Win walked straight back to Boss’s office. As promised the prez was up.

“Nothin’ to report, Boss.”

“Where’s Catcher?”

“Between the legs of some babe who thinks he’s God’s gift.”

Boss laughed. “Well, maybe he is. Who are we to say?” He looked Win over. “Try again tomorrow night.”

“We will.”

Catcher turned up at the clubhouse around two on Saturday afternoon looking like the cat that ate the canary. No further explanation was necessary. He got some sleep, got some food, got a shower, put on clean underwear and a change of shirt and was ready for a repeat at ten o’clock.

“What are you gonna do if she’s there again tonight?” Win asked as they walked to the cars.

Catcher looked dumbfounded. “Hadn’t thought of that. Christ. You don’t think she would, do you? I mean I left her, um, satisfied.”

“She leave you satisfied?”

Catcher grinned. “Oh, yeah.”

“But you’re up for more tonight?”

His face fell. “I see what you mean. Well, I guess I’ll just have to let her down easy. ‘You were a fantasy come true, but one night is all I got to give right now.’ How’s that sound?”

“Like dick to the third power.”

“Yeah. I dunno. I’ll think of somethin’.”

“Uh-huh. Just remember we got a job to do and you’re not off duty until two.”

“I know. Did you get a good look at the dancers in the lingerie? The garter belts…” He shook his head like he was describing one of the wonders of the world.

“You’re not there to ogle ass. You’re on club business.”

“I got it, Garrett. Jesus. You’re not my mother.”

Win rolled his eyes. “How old are you again?”

“Back again?” The bartender said to Win when he took up his post from the night before. After taking a good hard look at the tip Win had left, the man was genuinely happy to see him.

“Yeah. Give me water in a gin glass with ice and put lime and mint in it so it looks like I’m drinkin’. You can charge me like it’s the good stuff.”

The bartender didn’t act like that was anything out of the ordinary. He just said, “Comin’ right up.”

Win watched the repeat performance of Catcher arriving and strutting his stuff. It was almost like the crowd parted for him. The kid’s confidence had taken a quantum leap after one night of being pursued by bevies of beauties. He was afraid he’d played a part in creating a monster.

Things went pretty much as they had Friday night except that, apparently, there were a lot more people who went clubbing on Saturday. Win constantly scanned the crowd looking for signs of S&B under the pretext of people watching. It was around eleven when things began to go horribly, horribly wrong. And that wrongness came through the door in the form of a blonde knockout named R.C. Greer. She was with Zip’s girl, Robin, which didn’t make things any better.

The last thing he needed was to be trying to watch out for club girls while on club business.

She didn’t notice him right away and he was grateful for that. It gave him time to slide off his stool and back away to disappear into the shadows along the walls. It would probably be smarter for him to take a patrol approach anyway since the crowd was getting too thick to tell who was there and who wasn’t.

He prowled around the edges, eyes roaming over the people, but always coming back to R.C., never letting her out of sight for longer than a couple of seconds.

She and Robin had bought drinks and taken them to a standing round where they talked, laughed, and sipped fruity-looking drinks through straws. When the drinks were empty, the two of them headed out to the dance floor.

R.C. was wearing a spaghetti-strap black dress. Her hair was down and spilling over her bare shoulders. The way her hair moved reminded him that six days before he’d been enjoying the view of her on top, looking down at him, while she rode him in a way that might have spoiled him for other women.

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