Page 34 of Bishop's Flight
Carwyn looked at the stage where the two women were now sitting on chairs and performing a seductive routine. He turned back to Cheryl. “I have mixed feelings about the commodification of the female body for the pleasure of the male gaze.”
Cheryl lit a cigarette. “Don’t we all?”
“But your dancers are clearly very talented.”
“Thanks.” She blew out the smoke and looked at Miguel. “Who do you work for?”
“I’m a private investigator working for the Di Marcos. Are you familiar?”
“Sweetie, everyone knows Rose Di Marco. What do you need from me?”
“We were hoping to speak with one of your dancers. Savannah? We’re not sure of the last name.”
“We only got one Savannah. She in trouble?” The woman’s gaze turned sharp. “She’s a good girl and she doesn’t cause any trouble. Far as I know, she ain’t got no vices or exes. You get me?”
Carwyn leaned in. “I appreciate that you’re protective of your employees.”
She narrowed her eyes. “When they deserve it, I am.”
“She’s not in any trouble. A friend of hers mentioned that she knew a certain gentleman we’re trying to locate. He could be involved in a crime against a minor, and all we want is information from Savannah. If she could help us, Rose Di Marco would owe her a favor.”
“Any blowback for Savannah?”
“There’s absolutely no reason we’d even have to mention her name.”
Cheryl considered it for a moment, then nodded. “She’s in back. I can give you one of the private rooms to talk. It’s early. No one’s in ’em yet. If she wants to answer your questions, she can. If she doesn’t, that’s up to her. You’ll still pay her for a private hour.”
Miguel nodded. “Fair enough.”
“We appreciate your cooperation and your protective nature toward Savannah,” Carwyn said.
The woman didn’t seem to know what to make of him. “Right. Follow me. I’ll point you to one of the rooms, then I’ll get Savannah for you.”
“Appreciate it,” Miguel said.
They followed Cheryl down a pink-lit hallway with mirrors on the walls and four doors that were upholstered in pink leather with black buttons. She opened one, waved them inside, then shut the door behind them.
Miguel sat on one of the black leather couches that lined the walls. “So you have problems with the commodification of the female body, huh?”
“Mixed feelings.” Carwyn sat down as well, trying not to think of the many human asses that had sat on the couch before him. “Do you think they clean these?”
“I’m pretty sure they’d have to. So how do these mixed feelings come into play when it comes to blood donors, huh?”
“Fair question.” Carwyn looked around the room, immediately spotting the two cameras that were watching them. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.” He nodded to the cameras.
“Right.” Miguel stretched his arm across the back of the couch. “I mean, I get it. I wouldn’t want my sister being a stripper, but it’s not because of her, you know? She wants to do… whatever. That’s up to her. I just know the mentality of the guys who go to these places, you know?”
“Exactly. You can’t erase the context of the interaction.”
“No one’s forcing them to do it though. They make good money.”
“As they should. And some of them could be forced or coerced. You don’t know their whole story.”
“But you’d like it better if they were on the stage dancing and presenting a paper on literature or archaeology or something instead of taking their clothes off?”
“You have to admit that would be the absolute best way to listen to a presentation on archaeology.”
Miguel pursed his lips and nodded. “You’re not wrong.”
