Against the Night. Kat Martin

      Six

      Amy’s cell phone rang. She ran over to the kitchen table, dug it out of her purse and pressed it against her ear. “Hello?”

       “I’m on my way to the Sunset Deli. You know where it is?” Johnnie’s husky voice made her stomach flutter.

       “I know it. We eat there sometimes.” It was on the opposite side of the street just half a block from the club.

       “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. Bring your roommate along and bring me a picture of your sister.”

       “Okay, we’ll see you there.” Amy ended the call and turned to Babs, who was finishing the last of her coffee.

       “I take it that was Mr. Hot,” Babs said.

       Amy nodded. “He wants us to meet him at the Sunset Deli.” Amy picked up her sister’s acting portfolio, a book of photos Rachael used to take to auditions. “Let’s go.”

       Babs took a last swallow of coffee, set her empty mug down on the kitchen counter and grabbed her purse. Amy slung the strap of her white leather bag over her shoulder and they headed for the door. She still had on the white jeans she’d worn that morning, but had changed out of her sneakers into strappy high-heeled sandals, and a pink silk blouse that tied up in front, showing her midriff. Kyle would be expecting an exotic dancer. She had to look at least a little like one.

       It didn’t take long to reach the deli, a place they occasionally went for lunch. As they made their way between the tables, Johnnie stood waiting at the back of the room. She could feel his eyes on her, dark and intense, taking in every curve, and her stomach did that same nervous flutter. He pulled out a couple of chairs around the wooden table and she sat down, setting the portfolio in front of her.

       Amy tried for a smile, thought about what had happened between them last night, and her face heated up. She fixed her attention on Babs. “This is my friend Barbara McClure. As I said, Babs was Rachael’s friend and roommate.”

       “Hello, Johnnie.” Babs flashed him a bright white smile.

       Johnnie just nodded. “Babs.” Pulling out another chair, he sat down himself. “If we’re going to do this, I’m going to need as much information as I can get. You ready for that?”

       Both of them nodded.

       “Good, then we might as well get started.”

       Like a lot of places on Sunset, the deli had been there for years. The wooden floors were old and warped, the tables battered and scarred. Cured salami and loaves of crusty bread hung on the walls, and the smell of roasting meat and baking bread filled the air.

       As Johnnie reached over and pulled the photo album toward him, a waitress in a dark green apron with Sunset Deli stamped on the front appeared to take their orders: a bagel and cream cheese for Babs, pastrami and rye for Johnnie. Amy ordered coffee with cream. No way could she possibly eat with John Riggs sitting across from her with his biceps bulging, a tight black T-shirt stretched over his massive chest, reminding her what she had missed out on last night.

       “You’re not hungry?” he asked.

       Amy shook her head. “I had a little something earlier.”

       He cast her a glance that said he wasn’t convinced. “Let’s start at the beginning.” His intense gaze held hers. “First off, as long as you’re in this, you’re Angel. Amy Brewer is still in Michigan as far as this investigation goes. You want answers, you’ve got a helluva better chance of getting them if you’re Angel Fontaine, not Rachael’s sister. Just an acquaintance. The thing is, I don’t want anyone finding out you’re playing detective. All you’ll do is piss someone off, and if it happens to be the guy who…had something to do with her disappearance, you could be next. You got it?”

       “All right.”

       “I’ll need one of these photos.”

       “Take whatever you need,” she said as he opened the portfolio. “I had some extras made.”

       He slid a four-by-six glossy out of the plastic sleeve, the photo of a beautiful girl with shoulder-length mink-brown hair and pale green eyes. The angle of her head gave her smile a hint of mischief.

       “Pretty girl,” Johnnie said, examining the picture.

       Amy felt a tightening in her chest. “Rachael’s beautiful. She was homecoming queen in high school. She always had her pick of the boys.”

       Johnnie studied the photo as if he were trying to see deeper than the pretty smile and glossy dark hair. “How long since you last saw her?”

       “Not since my dad’s funeral. About three years. Rachael’s twenty-eight. She left Grand Rapids when she turned twenty-one, right after she finished city college. She came back to visit a couple of times, but it always ended in a fight with Mom. Rachael was smart. My parents wanted her to finish her education, but all Rachael wanted was to be onstage. She got the lead in a couple of high school plays, then did some local theater, and that was it. She believed she had found her calling. She was determined to become an actress.”

       “Well, she was onstage,” Babs drawled, “but the Kitty Cat Club isn’t exactly what your sister had in mind.”

       Johnnie’s mouth edged up, then he returned his attention to Amy. “How about phone calls, email, that kind of thing?”

       “We talked on the phone a few times a year, but it was mostly about superficial stuff. I didn’t know she was working as a…a dancer until I talked to Babs. There’s a computer in the office downstairs. The girls use it for email. She said she had a job as a cocktail waitress. I guess that was kind of the truth.”

       “What about boyfriends?”

       “She never mentioned anyone special. She never talked to me about her boyfriends or anything like that and I never talked to her about mine.”

       Johnnie sliced her a glance. “You got a guy back home?”

       There was more to the question than it seemed; she could see it in his eyes. Amy shook her head. “We broke up a couple of years ago. I’m not seeing anyone now.”

       Johnnie seemed to relax. “Any other family members out here?”

       “No, just me, and I’ve only been here the past couple of weeks.”

       “How about friends of hers from the past? People she knew back home?”

       Amy shook her head.

       “Anything about her you can think of that might help me find her?”

       “I don’t know…we drifted so far apart over the years.” Amy smiled sadly. “Rachael could really sing… A voice like a songbird, you know? Only she wasn’t interested in a singing career. She wanted to be a serious actress.”

       Johnnie was making mental notes, she could tell. “Anything else?” he asked.

       “Only that she wasn’t the type to just go away and not tell anyone.”

       “I’m sure you believe that, honey, but as you said, you don’t really know your sister that well—not anymore.”