Red by Kate Serine Page B

committed suicide in the alley last night,” I said, pointedly interrupting Snow’s advances. “I thought I’d see if you’d heard anything about it.”
    Snow sighed dramatically, then took a seat on the settee Nate had recently vacated, draping her body decoratively across the pillows for our benefit. Her negligee gaped open, giving us a tantalizing glimpse of full breasts that she did nothing to cover. Once she was comfortably seated, she made a dismissive motion with her hand, waving away my question. “Why would I possibly have heard anything about his suicide?”
    “He was on parole,” I told her, going to the serving cart and pouring her a glass of Merlot. “I was only bringing him in for a minor violation—he got pinched by the Ordinaries soliciting a working girl. He would have been out again in a couple of months.”
    Snow shrugged as she reached for the wine. “Some people simply cannot handle going back in.”
    I held on to the wineglass as she tried to take it, forcing her to look up and meet my eyes. She pressed her ruby red lips into an angry line, then let out an irritated huff.
    “You gonna talk to me?” I asked, releasing the glass and nearly sloshing wine onto her negligee. A single crimson droplet landed on the back of her hand. With a slow, languid motion, she licked it off, holding my gaze.
    “I suppose I might have heard something,” she murmured. She took a sip of her wine, then ran her tongue along her lips with a glance toward Nate. “If I tell you what I’ve heard, what’s in it for me?”
    I resumed my seat in the wingback chair and smiled. “The contentment of knowing you did the right thing?”
    Snow threw her head back and laughed. “Red, you never cease to entertain.”
    I grinned at her, familiar with the routine. “A regular laugh riot, that’s me. Now, what do you have for me?”
    Snow abruptly abandoned her stylized pose and sat up quickly, setting down her wineglass with such enthusiasm it sloshed over onto the table’s dark wood. I leaned forward, too, eager for her most recent gossip.
    She glanced around dramatically, then whispered, “You didn’t hear this from me—”
    I held up my hands. “I never do.”
    She grinned, revealing remarkably white teeth. “Ever the soul of discretion, my friend. The word among my girls is that Dave’s business was booming. He recently did some work for Todd Caliban.”
    I nodded. “Yeah, I knew that.”
    Snow’s eyes flashed and she leaned forward farther, motioning for Nate to lean in as well. He hesitated until I gave him a nod, indicating that he should play along. Gamely, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees (and working hard to keep his eyes on the carpet).
    “Who else?” I asked.
    “The Charmings.”
    This raised my brows. “James and Cindy?”
    Snow nodded vigorously. “Yes! And guess who else!”
    “Why don’t you just tell me and save me the time and effort,” I suggested. I heard Nate choke back a laugh and shot him a warning glance. He gave me an “Oh, come on” look but smothered his grin nonetheless.
    Fortunately, Snow hadn’t seemed to notice. “Tim Halloran,” she whispered. “Isn’t that interesting?”
    Hell, yeah, it was.
    “Tim Halloran?” Nate repeated. “The Sandman?”
    Snow nodded again. “Precisely. Dave had done such a wonderful job ridding Caliban’s restaurant of rats, he was suddenly in high demand among the wealthy. It was odd, really. All of these highly affluent people with their droves of servants and attendants suddenly finding themselves with an infestation of rats?”
    “That is odd,” I said, starting to get a little itch at the base of my spine that told me the whole thing was a little too coincidental. “Do you know of any other interesting clients Dave has had lately?”
    Snow shrugged, baring her pretty shoulder. “Those are the only ones I’ve heard about, but I bet you could get a client list from his office girl. She’s a pretty little thing.