"Hey, Theodore. It's been a minute. I've been trying to reach you for a couple of days, I assume that you're busy or away on vacation. I wanted to go over that legal matter we discussed, that you said would be covered in a week. Call me back at this same number when you have a chance. Be well." Rachel hung up her phone with a deep sigh.
She tilted her head back against the wall of the club's fitting room, annoyance rinsing her face.
"Stressed out, Rach?" Xia popped a bubble of gum. She had on a G-string and high heels.
Rachel got up, and walked to the mirror. She was done for the night, and it was time to replace her nose ring. "Always, at this damn place. I want out."
Xia said. "You've got a crowd, though. You're like a breath of fresh air, I haven't heard men rave about an erotic dancer like you in a while."
Rachel huffed, taking up her bag. "A crowd of pussy-hungry men is not going to fix my problems."
"Hey, hey, slow your roll, doll face," Thatcher stepped between Rachel and the exit.
Rachel frowned, crossing her hands about her chest.
"We've got a team meeting. Only five more minutes."
Rachel pronounced bluntly. "I better get bonus pay for it."
Thatcher blew a whistle through his fingers, and the team of chattering strippers and dancers quieted.
Thatcher squeezed in bi weekly meetings to go over housekeeping with the group. He shifted his eyes to Rachel, who usually advocated for the crew.
"To start, the air conditioning."
"And what about it?" Thatcher mumbled.
"It's cold. Too cold." said Rachel.
Mielle added. "Sixty degrees is real chilly."
Thatcher turned to Cube, hoping for some defense.
"You cold?"
Cube, indifferent as ever. "Nah. Don't feel cold or hot, don't care to learn the difference either."
"Well," Thatcher debated, "I'm good at sixty."
It's because you're an amphibian, Rachel thought.
"May I remind you, Mr. Thatcher, that you are wearing a hoodie. While all of us have our ass cheeks out."
"The cold makes the nipples hard, and makes you all look sexier. Customers are all for good tits, and a red ass — for those who blush there."
The room was brimmed with tension.
Rachel scoffed. "You're subpar."
Thatcher scowled. "Watch it, smart mouth."
"You're the one that's making us freeze for the sake of our nipples getting hard." Rachel clapped back.
Thatcher sharply returned. "Nipples are key to the business."
A chuckle threatened to leave Cube's lips.
Rachel threatened. "Fix the temp or I'm not dancing."
"Insubordination, now we're getting real bold." Thatcher hissed.
Rachel didn't miss a beat. "You wouldn't want to fumble your new sellout, would you, Garrett?"
Thatcher stammered, frustrated he couldn't articulate a reply.
Just then, someone softly knocked on the door. Thatcher motioned to Cube, who positioned himself at the door frame.
Cube asked, "Who's there?"
The voice on the other side of the door: "Police."
Cube looked at Thatcher for further instruction.
Thatcher, face spackle- colored said, "Fuck."
Thatcher was standing across from Cube, who was pouring a drink at the bar.
"Garfield Logan works with homicide. What could he possibly want with Rachel?" Thatcher asked Cube.
"Dunno."
Thatcher snarked. "Scandal."
Rachel walked to a booth where a young man with locs was sitting. The man looked overstimulated and bothered.
He wore a green polo shirt and a pair of jeans with a slight distress. He had a Rolex Daytona watch, which was gold with an emerald face on his right hand. Rachel assumed he was left-handed. He had one sleeve of tattoos on the other hand.
"Garfield Logan, homicide detective from Ohio. Pleased to meet you." He outstretched his hand, and Rachel shook it.
"Rachel Roth, likewise."
Rachel wasn't proud of her current employment.
Garfield took out a blunt, and lit it with his lighter. He didn't care for the perfumed whereabouts. He handed Rachel a Xeroxed replica of a New York driver's license.
Her eyes widened at the photograph when she realized she was looking at a dead Theodore Cooper.
Her ears were ringing and her tongue felt heavy.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I made the mistake of taking a vacation and found this poor guy in the communal dumpster where I was staying. In his pocket, I found a card from Scarlet with your name written on the back of it, and a heart next to your name. Any connection to Cooper, perhaps?"
"Mr. Cooper was simply a customer who was head over heels for me. He wrote me a note to discuss a legal matter that I'm in. Copper wrote me notes, gave me flowers— took me out to a diner, when I last saw him."
Garfield puffed the smoke gradually from his mouth and nose. "The smoke isn't bothering you, is it?"
"I've smelt worse."
"I'm sorry," Garfield outed the blunt. "I smoke when my sanity is tested. Imagine? You come on vacation to get away from murder cases, just get into a murder case on said vacation. Fuckin' ridiculous."
It was all coming to Rachel's reality. Sweet, Shakespearean Cooper was six feet under.
Rachel's dinner did a backflip in her stomach.
"I want to know more."
"Well, Cooper lived within a one mile radius of where I'm staying. The man was obsessed. He had a whole wall of pictures in his house dedicated to you."
"Of course he did," Rachel's irritation was clear-cut.
Thankfully, Garfield didn't seem to be crazed and delusional like the men she had to deal with on the daily (besides Cube). Fourteen minutes passed and Garfield didn't dig into her love life or ask for her hand in marriage.
"Was anything found inside of Theodore Cooper?"
"Rat poison was found in his system. He was poisoned, then dumped in the garbage. Foul play."
Garfield's eyes well with concern.
"You don't look good, Rachel. Do you want to continue another time? I know this is a lot of information to process."
"No, no, I'm good," Rachel's head felt fuzzy. "Let's go outside for some fresh air."
Garfield's voice, low and sultry. It made Rachel's stomach crease.
"Only if you allow me to smoke."
"Fine." Rachel sighed, frustrated.
The duo left the rambunctious setting scantily clad dancers. Cube was following them to the parking lot, but Rachel motioned that she was okay.
Rachel gratefully inhaled brisk air. "Jesus, rat poison. His food was probably laced."
"You're a smart one," Garfield smugly smiled at Rachel, which made her insides crinkle. Not in a bad way.
He set the blunt ablaze.
"Are you into mysteries or sumn'?"
"Religiously. I read them more than I watch them."
He chuckles.
"Cooper got murdered, though… like for real?"
A part of Rachel just couldn't believe it.
"His wife said he was getting ready to go to California for a business conference."
Rachel had to do a double take. "His wife? He was in a strip club night in and night out, and was infatuated with me. Men aren't shit. Maybe she's behind it, and I wouldn't even blame her."
"Doubt it. I'm not picking up any evidence that leads to Mrs. Cooper just yet. Do you have any ideas of possible suspects?"
Rachel was exasperated.
Life really had some lemons, and she was not up to making lemonade.
"Things are so complicated right now," She shook her head. "I'll get back to you."
Maternal nature told Rachel not to mention the specifics of the legal matter, such as her deranged ex-husband, and her child.
Maybe Garfield knew, and he was just playing along. He seemed like the type, casual but meticulous.
Garfield quizzed, puffing smoke. "You didn't kill him, did you?"
Rachel's eyes were bitter and her facial expression was flat.
"Thought I'd ask." Garfield shrugged with a soft laugh.
"No, Sir. I had no business with Cooper except for a legal matter. I was not involved with him romantically, I was not intimate with him, and I for sure didn't do away with him."
"I believe you." He gave her his business card.
"Massillon, Ohio." Rachel read out loud.
Garfield grunted. "Yeah, that's a fuckin' issue. Home's a while off from here, it's gonna take a minute to stir up local interest."
"That's not your jurisdiction, Detective."
"Gar's just fine," He tells her. "And you're damn right, but I don't play by a book of rules."
Garfield's body language was vexed. Rachel was sure it wasn't because of her.
"I'll help," Rachel volunteered. "I'm not sure how much help I can be since I didn't know Cooper personally. This isn't an official case, so how did you get access to Cooper's place?"
"Asked the super," Garfield winked, his handsome smirk spreading once again as he gazed at Rachel. "A badge is a badge, hot stuff."