Free White Offerings by Ann Roberts Page A

and studied the area. Ari noticed that only two doors faced them, a back door into Smiley’s and the entrance to a men’s gym. “That’s the only other tenant on the property, so either she’s pumping iron in a testosterone joint, or she left Smiley’s by the back door, which normally isn’t for customers.”
    “Maybe we should go check it out,” Jane said.
    “No,” Biz disagreed. “That’s why you’ve hired me. I’ve got an appointment in ten minutes, but when I’m done, I’ll come back here and get some answers.”
    They walked back to the pristine Mustang and Biz slid inside. Ari noticed that Biz fit in the car the way a fabulous dress clung perfectly to a svelte body or the right perfume smelled magnificent on the shoulders of a beautiful woman. Before she put the car in reverse, she gazed at Ari and then sped out of the lot, looking as cool as she really was.

Chapter Eleven

    Sunday, October 15th
    5:25 PM

    Oaxaca’s was nearly deserted when Molly, Andre and Rasp claimed three stools at the bar. The décor was predictable and simple—a stucco interior painted in Southwestern earth tones. Worn black vinyl booths lined the walls, and sombreros and colorful Mexican flowers adorned the entryway. Strains of mariachi music echoed throughout the three dining rooms and bar area, as if to scream authenticity. Diners often shouted to be heard, but the regulars, many of whom were Phoenix police officers, didn’t seem to care.
    It was the city’s cop hangout and memorabilia from the last fifty years decorated the place. In the lobby was a wall honoring the fallen brethren, and police officers would bring in framed photos of their friends receiving citations for display over the semicircular booths. Next to Hideaway, Molly felt most at home at Oaxaca, as it defined the other side of her personality—cop. She was well-known as a good tipper, and Miguel, the bartender, had her Scotch ready before she sat down.
    “I take it you’re a regular here?” Rasp asked.
    “She buys Miguel a Christmas present,” Andre said.
    Molly glared at him, not wanting Rasp to think she spent her life in bars, which was only a step away from the truth. “All the cops come here, not just me. Right, Miguel?” The bartender nodded at them and took their order. She fired another glare at Andre, who looked down at his shoes.
    Miguel brought Andre and Rasp’s drinks and a bowl of chips and salsa for them to share. As usual, no one felt the need to plunge into polite conversation until the somberness of the day washed over them. The investigation had stalled with Itchy’s death. Molly couldn’t stop blaming herself, and at one point during the afternoon, Rasp had leaned over and squeezed her shoulder—an innocent gesture that sent a surge of electricity through her body. She’d shown no emotion and a vision of Ari in a teddy instantly squashed her libido. She was committed to Ari, and now she was feeling a little guilty about sitting in a bar with her partner and an attractive FBI agent rather than accompanying her girlfriend to their regularly scheduled Sunday afternoon activity, a movie at the Orpheum Theater. She knew Ari would understand and would tell her not to feel guilty because she didn’t have a jealous bone in her body. Eventually Molly was sure that Ari would meet Rasp, and she would probably recognize the sexual energy between them—and she’d laugh. It had happened before, and she couldn’t understand it. How could Ari be so secure in their relationship while she was a wreck?
    “Where do we go from here?” Andre posed the question she wanted to ask, but she didn’t want Rasp to think she couldn’t formulate a game plan. She was, after all, the ranking detective and Andre’s superior. Yet she wasn’t sure what they could do to make another connection to Vince Carnotti. She knew Rasp would return to New York if none of the leads in Arizona panned out, and Molly found herself thinking harder to avoid that