Part 284 (2/2)

Snug, short skirts barely covered the hips of long-legged girls. The

music was hard and loud, the liquor watered. But the club was packed,

the dance floor jammed. Colored lights whirled, distorting faces.

Couples standing hip to hip had to shout to communicate. Drugs and money

exchanged hands as casually as phone numbers.

It wasn't what he was used to. It certainly wasn't what he preferred.

But he had come. He squeezed into a small corner table and ordered a

Scotch.

”If you'd wanted to talk, you could have picked a better spot.”

His companion grinned and downed a whiskey. ”What better place for

secrets than in public?” He lit a cigarette with a monogtammed gold

lighter. ”The grapevine has it that Jane slipped something by you.

”I know about the letter.”

”You know, and didn't think it was worth mentioning?”

”That's right.”

”It won't do to forget that what concerns you concerns me.”

”The letter only implicates Jane, not you, or me. Since she's dead, it

hardly matters.” He paused, waiting until the waitress had set down his

drink. ”There's something else that may be more pressing. Emma's

having troubling dreams.”

The man laughed and blew smoke between his teeth. ”Emma's dreams don't

bother me.”

”They should. Since they concern us both. She's in therapy, with the

psychiatrist who treated Stevie Nimmons.” After sampling the Scotch, he

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