Sin on the Strip by Lucy Farago

to hire the tenor. What else had his snooping uncovered? And just how much trouble was he going to stir up?
    She looked over to see Jason step outside, a tray of canapés in one hand, napkins in the other.
    â€œLizzy sent me out,” his voice far too loud. “She said I could help serve while I waited for my ride.” He puffed out his chest. “I set up and she said maybe next time I can help cook.”
    â€œThat’s great. Why don’t you let Mr. Beck try one of those? They’re tasty,” she said, returning her attention to Beck. “The caterer is the best this city has to offer.”
    He looked like he was going to pass, but one look at Jason and he complied. Not that Jason, now eagerly shoving the tray in Beck’s face, would have taken no for an answer.
    â€œThanks,” he said choosing a canapé and taking a bite. “Mmm. Do you know what that sweet-tart flavor I taste is?”
    Beck surprised her by asking Jason, who, except for her staff, most ignored. At least the man had one redeeming quality.
    â€œAged Balsamic vinegar under the goat cheese,” he answered, pride to have pronounced it correctly lighting up a toothy grin. “Did you know they made cheese from goat’s milk?”
    â€œI’ve heard,” Beck replied. “Ever milk a goat?”
    â€œNah.” Jason laughed. “But the house took us to a farm once. I got to milk a cow,” he beamed.
    â€œThanks, Jason,” Maggie said, the young man would go on forever if she didn’t stop him. “Why don’t you go back inside and see what else Lizzy has for you to do.”
    He nodded enthusiastically and managed to balance the tray and run at the same time. If only more had his heart.
    â€œThe chef? Friend of yours?” he asked, polishing off the last bite.
    She motioned to the cushioned chair across the table. “She used to work for me.”
    â€œShe danced for you?”
    â€œDon’t look so shocked, Mr. Beck. Most strippers don’t dance their entire lives.”
    Some were college students just making tuition. Heather Mackenzie didn’t fall into that category. She’d been stripping long before coming to Heart’s Desire.
    â€œAre you here to give condolences, or some other motive?”
    â€œLike I said, I don’t want to intrude. I just wanted you to know I’ll do my part in finding her killer. I’ve come to learn how much these women care about you and you for them.”
    â€œMost of my girls don’t have family. And some that do have broken the ties. So we make our own. Family is important.” Even if not every family member understood that.
    â€œYes, ma’am, I couldn’t agree more.”
    Needing to keep her hands busy, she pulled the sunglasses off her head and did her best to gently set them down on the teak table. Southern slang or not, if he called her ma’am one more time . . .
    â€œI talked to Ms. Joyce. She confirmed what you told me.”
    â€œDid you think I lied?”
    â€œNo, but honestly, I was hoping to get some clues out of her.”
    â€œClues?”
    Christian had discovered that, along with Ms. Anderson and two other women, Wendy Harper and Alice McAllister, Shannon Joyce owned several restaurants and bars throughout California and one in New York. But they didn’t just own restaurants and bars. They owned successful restaurants and celebrity-frequented bars. Clubs where people went to be seen. Clubs where, if you weren’t on the A-list, you never got beyond the front door. Clubs that perhaps had ticked off the wrong person? It was a long shot, but he’d rule nothing out.
    â€œYou and Ms. Joyce share mutual investments,” he said, more of a statement than question.
    If he had blinked, he’d have missed the flash of anger in those blue eyes.
    â€œAre you investigating me?” she asked, sliding her sunglasses back and forth on the table.
    â€œDo