"This has got to be the MOST stupid thing I've EVER agreed to in my life!"
Detective Renee Montoya stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, and shook her head. She wore a black silk blouse that laced up the front, a short black skirt and thigh high boots. She was going to KILL whoever had the bright idea of putting her undercover on this case. She regretted now, stating that she could sing, under the "Skills and Talents" portion of the application that she'd filled out when she'd been hired at the GCPD. She'd never thought that she would be put undercover as a singer at a dive like the Two of Hearts. And a dive it was.
She'd had ample time to check out the place after it's owner, Bob Morley, had contacted the police. Five of his singers, all female, all under thirty, and all pretty, had gone missing within the last six months. While it could have just been written off to chance, Montoya didn't think so. In this town, nothing seemed to happen by chance. And while she'd picked up on the duality of the club's name, she didn't believe that Two-Face was behind the disappearances. For one thing, he'd never been spotted at the club. And two, this wasn't his style.
"Madre de Dios! He's got ME thinking in two's now!"
She tried not to shake her head or laugh at the thought, but somehow she ended up doing both. Her relationship with Harvey Dent, a.k.a., Two-Face, was confusing at best, and something that she couldn't take the time to think about right now. Now it was time for her to go from being Renee Montoya, Detective Second Class, to being Isabella Contreraz, a singer hoping to hit the big time.
"Who would EVER be discovered at a place like the Hearts?"
Taking a deep breath, she applied a bit more lipstick to her lips, checked herself out in the mirror one last time, and turned and walked out of the tiny dressing room that had been given to her. It was do or die time. She not only had to appear to be a convincing singer, she had to be good enough to make it to the A list of singers that all five of the missing girls had been. It was show time and she had to be focused. She heard her "name" being announced as the next act. Quickly, she rehearsed what she'd been told to do, it was simple really: go out there, make eye contact, build a repertoire between the crowd and herself, sing her six songs, and then go mingle with the crowd.
What could possibly go wrong?
********************
An hour and twenty minutes later, she sat on a bar stool, trying to ease the pain in her feet. Her boots weren't made for walking and certainly not made for the bar room brawl that had ensued a little over forty minutes ago. The police had already come and gone, and the employees already had cleanup underway.
"Don't worry. It gets easier." Montoya looked up at the bartender, who was busy brushing broken glass from the bar. David Simone, she remembered from the files she'd read on the employees at the Hearts, before starting the investigation. "You look doubtful," he continued. " Don't worry, most times it's just drunk assholes who fight one another. They usually leave the girls alone. Tonight was the exception. You ok?"
Montoya nodded and felt the knot on her head. She had been hit with a beer bottle when the man that the bottle had been intended for had dodged out of the way at the last second. Her back had been turned, so she hadn't seen the blow coming. She'd retaliated with a left hook, which had laid the drunk out.
"Well, Bell, it's nice to meet you. Just call me Dave. It, uh, looks unlikely that we'll be re-opening after this. You want me to give you a ride home after we're given the OK to leave?"
Montoya silently contemplated whether or not he was just being friendly, or if he was the obsessed, stalker type. She realized that she really didn't know enough about any of the employees to make such a judgment, yet. Sitting back she nodded to Dave in thanks. She had rented out a weekly at the Gotham Arms Hotel. Talk about dives! The Arms was the kind of place you only went when you had no one or nowhere else to go. Which was just how she wanted to appear.
"Thanks, Dave. I'd really appreciate it."
It was just about time to call it a night. In all honestly she wanted to get out of there. She had lots of work to do before turning in for the night. She wanted to review all the employee records and compare them to what she'd already learned about them. Also, all night, she'd felt eyes watching her. Not hostile or violent, just watching, observing. She hadn't noticed anyone paying particular attention to her all night, though. She'd have to ask Morley about it tomorrow. It was time to go "home."
Detective Renee Montoya stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, and shook her head. She wore a black silk blouse that laced up the front, a short black skirt and thigh high boots. She was going to KILL whoever had the bright idea of putting her undercover on this case. She regretted now, stating that she could sing, under the "Skills and Talents" portion of the application that she'd filled out when she'd been hired at the GCPD. She'd never thought that she would be put undercover as a singer at a dive like the Two of Hearts. And a dive it was.
She'd had ample time to check out the place after it's owner, Bob Morley, had contacted the police. Five of his singers, all female, all under thirty, and all pretty, had gone missing within the last six months. While it could have just been written off to chance, Montoya didn't think so. In this town, nothing seemed to happen by chance. And while she'd picked up on the duality of the club's name, she didn't believe that Two-Face was behind the disappearances. For one thing, he'd never been spotted at the club. And two, this wasn't his style.
"Madre de Dios! He's got ME thinking in two's now!"
She tried not to shake her head or laugh at the thought, but somehow she ended up doing both. Her relationship with Harvey Dent, a.k.a., Two-Face, was confusing at best, and something that she couldn't take the time to think about right now. Now it was time for her to go from being Renee Montoya, Detective Second Class, to being Isabella Contreraz, a singer hoping to hit the big time.
"Who would EVER be discovered at a place like the Hearts?"
Taking a deep breath, she applied a bit more lipstick to her lips, checked herself out in the mirror one last time, and turned and walked out of the tiny dressing room that had been given to her. It was do or die time. She not only had to appear to be a convincing singer, she had to be good enough to make it to the A list of singers that all five of the missing girls had been. It was show time and she had to be focused. She heard her "name" being announced as the next act. Quickly, she rehearsed what she'd been told to do, it was simple really: go out there, make eye contact, build a repertoire between the crowd and herself, sing her six songs, and then go mingle with the crowd.
What could possibly go wrong?
********************
An hour and twenty minutes later, she sat on a bar stool, trying to ease the pain in her feet. Her boots weren't made for walking and certainly not made for the bar room brawl that had ensued a little over forty minutes ago. The police had already come and gone, and the employees already had cleanup underway.
"Don't worry. It gets easier." Montoya looked up at the bartender, who was busy brushing broken glass from the bar. David Simone, she remembered from the files she'd read on the employees at the Hearts, before starting the investigation. "You look doubtful," he continued. " Don't worry, most times it's just drunk assholes who fight one another. They usually leave the girls alone. Tonight was the exception. You ok?"
Montoya nodded and felt the knot on her head. She had been hit with a beer bottle when the man that the bottle had been intended for had dodged out of the way at the last second. Her back had been turned, so she hadn't seen the blow coming. She'd retaliated with a left hook, which had laid the drunk out.
"Well, Bell, it's nice to meet you. Just call me Dave. It, uh, looks unlikely that we'll be re-opening after this. You want me to give you a ride home after we're given the OK to leave?"
Montoya silently contemplated whether or not he was just being friendly, or if he was the obsessed, stalker type. She realized that she really didn't know enough about any of the employees to make such a judgment, yet. Sitting back she nodded to Dave in thanks. She had rented out a weekly at the Gotham Arms Hotel. Talk about dives! The Arms was the kind of place you only went when you had no one or nowhere else to go. Which was just how she wanted to appear.
"Thanks, Dave. I'd really appreciate it."
It was just about time to call it a night. In all honestly she wanted to get out of there. She had lots of work to do before turning in for the night. She wanted to review all the employee records and compare them to what she'd already learned about them. Also, all night, she'd felt eyes watching her. Not hostile or violent, just watching, observing. She hadn't noticed anyone paying particular attention to her all night, though. She'd have to ask Morley about it tomorrow. It was time to go "home."