"Go ahead," said King. "I don't think anything will surprise us now."

"Mr. Battle said he wasn't the only one in the family who practiced that philosophy."

"Of sleeping around?" said King, and Sally nodded.

Mich.e.l.le and King looked at each other. "And you think he was referring to Remmy?" she asked.

"I just a.s.sumed he was. But Mrs. Battle always seemed so proper and . . ."

"Supportive of her husband," suggested King.

"Yes, exactly."

"Public faces can often be deceiving," he commented.

"And the Rolls?" asked Mich.e.l.le.

"It just disappeared after that night. I don't know what happened to it. In fact, Billy Edwards-he was the mechanic who used to take care of the cars-he was gone too. That's when Mr. Battle lost interest in his collection. He never came down after that, as far as I know."

"You never saw this Billy Edwards before he left?"

"No, his place was cleaned out the next day. I don't know who came and took the car. It must have been at night, or else someone would have seen it driving off."

"Thank you, Sally, you've been a big help."

They left Sally and headed back to the front of the house.

"So what do you make of that?" asked Mich.e.l.le.

"It creates lots of questions. Who was Bobby seeing back then? Was the reference to sleeping around actually directed at Remmy? And why get rid of the car?" King looked pensive. "I wonder if there's any chance of tracking down this Billy Edwards and asking him about it."

"What about going directly to Remmy?"

"She'd want to know how we found out about it. And Sally's obviously not good at hiding her feelings. One look from Remmy and she'd crack. We may have to at some point, but for now we'll look for another way."

"We keep uncovering more questions and no answers," said Mich.e.l.le.

"At some point the tide has to turn. We just may not like the answers we find, though."

CHAPTER 39.

DOROTHEA AND EDDIE BATTLEweren't home, so King and Mich.e.l.le drove to the Aphrodisiac that afternoon to speak with Lulu Oxley about the murdered exotic dancer, Rhonda Tyler.

The parking lot was already filling up with the lunch crowd when they arrived. As they walked past one of the bar areas, they caught glimpses of the nearly naked ladies dancing and the men staring and catcalling.

"I just don't get the attraction," said Mich.e.l.le.

"The product isn't exactly directed at someone like you."

"Come on, are you saying you find watching something like that enjoyable?"

"No, but I'm afraid I'm in a minority among my gender." He smiled and added, "That comes with being intelligent, sophisticated and sensitive."

They were directed back to Lulu's small, cluttered office, where they found her hard at work and not looking happy about being interrupted.

"I've told the FBI and Chief Williams everything," said Lulu as she snapped her lighter shut and took a drag on a fresh cigarette.

"Well, we're deputies now, so you can tell us too," said King pleasantly as he showed her his badge.

She sighed, took another puff and sat back in her chair.

"In case you hadn't heard, the surgeon general has proclaimed cigarette smoking really bad for you," said Mich.e.l.le, waving the fumes away from her face.

"The surgeon general doesn't run a gentleman's club," Lulu shot back.

"We'll be happy to breathe the secondhand smoke so long as you tell us about Rhonda Tyler," said King.

"Okay, for the third time and counting, Rhonda Tyler aka whatever the h.e.l.l her stage name was . . ."

"Tawny Blaze," said Mich.e.l.le helpfully.

"Right, good memory," said Lulu, eyeing the woman keenly. "Anyway, she came to work here under contract. She stayed in one of the club's rooms, but shortly before her stint was up, she told us she had another place to crash. She did her contract time, and that was the last I saw of her. We'd used her before, and she'd always acted like a real professional, never any problem."

"Did she mention whether she had friends or family in the area?"

"Not to me. But with her line of work, family tends to shy away from you."

"How about a man she might have met?" prompted Mich.e.l.le.

Lulu tapped ash off her cigarette into an empty paper coffee cup on her desk. "Not that I know of."

"Anyone else she might have confided in?" asked King.

"She might have talked to some of the girls."

"Can we speak with them?"

"If you can wake them up. The ones who work nights don't get out of bed until late in the afternoon. The lunch-shift girls are out onstage now."

"We'll give it our best shot," said King.

"You do that," said Lulu again, watching Mich.e.l.le closely.

As they headed to the door, Mich.e.l.le glanced back and saw Lulu's hand disappear inside her desk drawer. When Lulu pulled it out, there was nothing in it. Mich.e.l.le looked away before the other woman could see her staring.

Lulu said, "By the way, here's a piece of information you might find interesting: the high-and-mighty Remmy Battle threatened Junior."

Both of them stared at her as she summarized the meeting between the two, including Remmy's offer to pay off Junior if he returned the stolen items.

"So she wanted something that was in the drawer, but didn't care about her wedding ring?" asked a confused King.

"Apparently, the lady has something to hide."

"Where will Junior be today?"

"Working a job in Lynchburg; you won't be able to see him. But this evening he'll be at the house he's building for us."

"Let me have the directions. And give me Junior's cell phone number." As she did so, King asked one more question. "Did Bobby Battle ever come here?"

Lulu seemed to be trying hard not to look surprised at the question. "I think I saw him around here a few times."

"Recently?"

"What do you consider recently?"

"In the last couple of years."

"I couldn't say for sure."

I'm sure you couldn't,thought King. "Well, thanks again for all your help."

"I'll show you where the rooms are," offered Lulu.

She led them upstairs and pointed to the hallway fronted by the red curtain.

"Good luck," she said in a tone that didn't sound like she actually meant it.

As King and Mich.e.l.le started off, Lulu touched Mich.e.l.le on the arm. "Uh, can I ask you a question?" she said.

"We've askedyou enough, so go ahead." enough, so go ahead."

"You ever consider pole dancing?"

"Excuse me!" said Mich.e.l.le, clearly stunned.

"It's just that you've got the perfect all-American, girl-next-door, come-hither thing going on. That's pretty rare in this business. You're leaner than the other gals and a little light in the chest, but I don't think the guys will mind once they see what youdo have." have."

Mich.e.l.le's face reddened. "You must be kidding!"

"The pay's better than you think, and you keep all the tips you get. And you can pull the night shift and still work your regular job during the day. State law doesn't allow total nudity in any strip club, so you can keep your G-string on. But the top has to come off, that's club policy. No b.o.o.bs, no bucks."

Mich.e.l.le smiled tightly. "Let me put it this way: the day you see me pole dancing with only a G-string on in front of a crowd of drunken morons is the day the sky falls and kills all of us."

"I don't know," said King, who'd listened intently to this exchange. "I'd tip at least twenty bucks to see that."

CHAPTER 40.

KING AND MICh.e.l.lE WALKEDdown the hallway, slipped behind the heavy red curtain and started knocking on doors. Several rooms were unlocked and unoccupied. From the others issued either a string of profanities or sleepy groans. Whenever a door was unlocked and opened-always by a scantily clad young woman with an extremely weary look-Mich.e.l.le asked the same question while King averted his eyes.

"Didn't really know her," was the constant refrain. However, at the next-to-last room on the hall the voice said, "Come on in." Mich.e.l.le did so. When she exited a couple of minutes later, she appeared truly shaken.

"You okay?" asked King.

"I was just propositioned by a six-foot-tall naked woman named Heidi."

"I can wait out in the car if you want."

"Shut up!"

"Must've been the come-hither look."

At the last room the door was opened by a young woman wearing a long robe that didn't entirely hide her heavy curves and inflated bosom. Her dyed-blond hair was in a ponytail, and her feet were bare. She was sipping a cup of black coffee. She introduced herself only as Pam, and after they had told her what they wanted, she actually invited them in.

They sat at a small table around which were placed four chairs. The room looked comfy enough, although King caught himself staring at the rumpled bed in the corner and the array of lingerie piled there. He turned to find Mich.e.l.le's severe gaze on him.

"So you knew Rhonda?" asked King.

"Yes, sir."

King ran his eye over her. She was so young-looking that had he seen her half-naked rubbing against a pole, he would have probably thrown a blanket over her and called her father to come retrieve her. "Have the police already talked to you?"

"Yes, sir, the FBI actually. That's what they said they were anyway."

"Can you tell us what you told them?"

"Yes, sir."

"You don't have to call me sir, Pam. I'm Sean, this is Mich.e.l.le."

Pam looked at her stubby toes with the cracked polish and crossed one pudgy foot over the other. "Sorry, I guess I'm sorta nervous, Sean."

Mich.e.l.le patted her hand. "There's nothing to be nervous about."

"I mean with Rhonda getting killed and all. I guess it could've been any one of us, though Rhonda took chances I never would."

"What sort of chances?" asked King.