Free Say You Love Me by Rita Herron Page B

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    â€œWhat can you tell us about this woman?” Jean-Paul flashed the picture again.
    The guy winced and pushed the photo away. “Her real name is Elvira Erickson. But she went by Pooky.”
    â€œShe was a stripper?” Jean-Paul asked.
    â€œYeah, but she’d only been working here a couple of weeks. Told me she needed tuition money for school. Said she was planning to go to Tulane.”
    A muscle ticked in Jean-Paul’s jaw and Britta saw the wheels turning in his mind. He was thinking about his sisters.
    â€œDo you have an address?”
    Moe scribbled on a napkin. “I think she lived in an apartment near the university.”
    â€œWe’ll check it out,” Carson said. “Did she have a boyfriend?”
    Moe smirked and grabbed two mugs to fill an order. “If she did, she sure as hell didn’t bring him in here. Wouldn’t be good for business or her tips.”
    Jean-Paul gave him a clipped nod. “Did you notice any guy hanging with her? Say two nights ago?”
    Moe shook his head. “Naw, man. The girls come and go. I try to keep my head down. I don’t want their pimps’ wrath on me.”
    â€œHow about any strange men who might have been watching her?” Jean-Paul asked. “A stalker maybe?”
    Moe indicated the crowd. “Half the guys in here fit in that category.”
    Jean-Paul grimaced and Britta searched the mob of lust-starved, dollar-holding men, remembering similar scenes with her mother. More than once, a customer had jumped on stage and tried to drag her off with him.
    Across the room, a man in a gray suit and wire-rims caught her attention. He seemed familiar, so she tilted her head to study him, then remembered that she’d seen him in the market. She’d thought he was watching her.
    Always looking for ghosts from her past. In New Orleans, they were all around her….
    He flashed some money at the black dancer, then spotted her and his eyes widened as if he was a deer trapped in a set of headlights.
    Britta tapped Jean-Paul on the shoulder to get his attention, but by the time he turned around the man had disappeared back into the crowd again as if he’d never existed.
    * * *
    J EAN -P AUL INCHED CLOSER to her. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œI thought I recognized a man in the crowd,” she said in a shaky voice.
    Jean-Paul immediately scanned the smoky room. “Who? What does he look like?”
    â€œHe’s gone now. But I saw him in the market earlier.” A strand of her red hair fell across her cheek. “I guess it was nothing.”
    â€œWas it that photographer?”
    â€œNo, another man. It’s probably my imagination.”
    â€œYou’re smart to stay alert,” he said, itching to touch her hair and tuck it back into place. “We don’t know that he wasn’t the man who broke into your place. Or the killer.”
    â€œIf he was after me, why not just approach me?”
    Jean-Paul lifted an eyebrow. “In a crowded bar? No way.” He stroked her arm gently, and a small tremor rippled through his body, stirring protective instincts. Dammit, the Dubois men were always suckers for a woman in trouble. “If he made me for a cop, he’d definitely run.”
    His logic made sense but only heightened her anxiety level.
    â€œCome on,” Jean-Paul said. “I’ll take you home, then I need to see what information I can dig up on Elvira Erickson.”
    â€œYou have to locate her family and tell them, don’t you?” Britta asked.
    Detective Dubois’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, I might as well get it over with.”
    â€œI’ll meet you at the station,” his partner said. “Nice to meet you, Britta.”
    Jean-Paul glared at his partner. Carson was notorious for flirting and he seemed intrigued by Britta.
    He shook off the disturbing thought as he took her home, instead concentrating on the call he needed to