Murder Takes a Dare: The First Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 1) by Jada Ryker Page A

inspection.
    The metal was cold in her long, slender fingers. “A flashlight?”
    “I can’t imagine the spirit of a dead person, if such things did exist, would need such a mundane item as a pocket flashlight to light its way. Do you?”
    “I would say this is tangible proof someone is dressing up to fool us all. But why? And what can we do about it?”
    “We can find out everything we can about any other sightings of the person. Then, we will set a trap for the ‘ghost,’ catch it, and unmask it!”
    Althea’s mouth dropped open. “Are you insane?”
    “If we work together, I’m convinced we can do it, and solve Jonah’s murder at the same time. We have our sharp wits and—” he smiled faintly, “we certainly have plenty of time on our hands. Do you think you’re up to it?” Challengingly, he extended his hand toward her.
    She was old. She was tired. Her legs were stronger since she’d broken her hip, but not even near normal. Certain she’d completely lost her mind, Althea took the proffered hand and briskly shook it.
    Clay’s eyes were focused over Althea’s shoulder as he gently let go of her hand. They widened.
    “What is it?” Althea twisted around.
    Through the large window, Althea saw an ambulance with red flashing lights, followed by two police cars with blue lights flashing, pull up to the front of the nursing home.
    “What in heaven’s name?” gasped Althea. “Is one of the residents sick or hurt?”
    “We get plenty of visits by ambulances…but the police escort tells me something is horribly wrong.”

CHAPTER SIX
     
    “Whoever hits the target gets to go first!”
    Thick smoke and dim lights made the dancer on stage look fuzzy and unreal. Marisa squirmed in her chair at the edge of the circular stage. She wanted a beer, but she knew she couldn’t. She was in the strip club to investigate and gather information, not fall off the wagon.
    “Come on, Trinity, take the first shot at my target!” Diana laughed, curving her red lips and making eye contact with the men seated in an irregular circle around the stage. With an exaggerated swinging of her muscular hips and her long, straight black hair, the stripper pranced across the stage to Marisa. All eyes were trained on her jauntily bouncing naked breasts.
    Trinity. Marisa shuddered in revulsion. She’d hoped never to hear the name again. Marisa peered up at her friend. Diana executed a series of graceful dance moves on her six-inch Lucite heels, black leather straps crisscrossing the well-developed calves. She paused in the middle of the stage, flexing her tanned thighs, her long, blood-red nails expectantly holding open the black leather g-string.
    As a rabid body builder, Diana had a strong, muscular body. Daily weightlifting and strenuous exercise kept her fit, and her long hair and beautiful face kept her from appearing too masculine for the taste of the primarily male customers. However, since she was twenty years—plus—older than the other dancers, Diana had needed a gimmick to differentiate herself from the flock of late-teens and twenty-something strippers. While the dim lights helped disguise the laugh lines at her eyes and her muscular body was in better shape than the majority of women her age, it was impossible to hide the effects of gravity with a g-string.
    Diana had hit on the perfect way to capture the capricious attention of the strip joint customers. With the televisions jammed in every corner of the club constantly tuned to football, baseball, basketball, even log rolling, Diana was well aware of the competitive nature of males. Accordingly, she made the first dance of her set into a game. She challenged those seated at the stage to try and throw balled up currency into her held open g-string. It was always a huge hit, both with the older men and the younger guys.
    Marisa gave a mental shrug. She wasn’t having much luck in her private detecting. She might as well participate in the activities. Besides, Diana