Free Frenzy by John Lutz Page A

intimidated. More like amused. She looked at Sal, then glanced at Harold as if he were a worm. She had strong features framed by dark brown hair, and would have been tall even without her six-inch heels. Narrow-waisted, with a large bust and plenty of hip, there was a kind of force about her. Her unadorned black dress would have looked plain on most women. But then most women didn’t have her legs and cleavage.
    â€œI’m minding my own business,” she said in a throaty voice that went with the dress and all the rest. Harold thought she was probably great at telephone sex.
    â€œWe’re not interested in your business,” Sal said. “We’re not with vice.”
    â€œOh, darn,” she said flatly. “I thought you were going to ask me to move on, just so you could see me move.”
    Harold swallowed. Said, “Mrs. Robinson, are you—”
    â€œCan it, Harold,” Sal interrupted.
    â€œIs that straight vodka you’re drinking?” the one named Harold asked.
    â€œWater.”
    â€œGood for you.”
    Wanda Woman looked slightly confused. These guys didn’t seem interested in her as a woman; they seemed to want to kill time.
    â€œWe only want to talk,” Sal said.
    â€œUntil you change your minds,” Wanda said with a wink. “What do you wanna talk about?”
    Sal said, “Craig Duke, the paint salesman.”
    Wanda smiled. “Is that what he does. He told me he worked for the government.”
    â€œWe all do, in a sense,” Harold said.
    â€œThis is about what happened to those poor girls,” Wanda said.
    â€œAnd their chaperone,” Sal reminded her.
    â€œYeah. Some chaperone.”
    â€œWhen it happened, you were with Craig Duke, in his room right across the hall.”
    â€œMight’ve been. Truth is, I don’t know what happened when. We were about to start—secret agent Duke and me—when he said wait a minute, he thought he heard somebody knocking on the door.”
    â€œStart what?” Harold asked.
    â€œA game called find the key. It involves handcuffs and a—”
    Quinn had come in. “I thought it was you two when I glanced in here,” he said.
    â€œIt’s us,” Harold confirmed. “We were just talking to Wanda—what’s your real name, hon?”
    â€œWanda Tennenger. Sometimes I go by Wanda Smith.” She smiled at Quinn. “And I don’t have to ask who this handsome gentleman is. I’ve seen his photo in the paper.”
    â€œI wanted to be in on the conversation,” Quinn said, sizing up the woman in the tight black dress. A look into her eyes suggested she was a pragmatist.
    Wanda didn’t seem particularly impressed by Quinn, but she brought him up to speed on the conversation with the other two detectives, to where Duke suddenly lost interest in her. “There was something else,” she said. “After the knocking from across the hall—once we knew what it was—me and Duke went on about our business. Though something had gone out of Duke after he looked out the door. I’m not accustomed to that.”
    She described how Duke went to the door and peeked out, how the knocking was on the door across the hall, and what Duke told her he’d seen.
    When she’d run down, she took a sip of her water that smelled like vodka.
    â€œThat it?” Quinn asked.
    Wanda looked from Sal to Harold and back at Quinn. She knew she’d better not leave anything out or lie to Quinn. “The air kinda went out of us for a while,” she said. “I came down here to have a drink. That was about seven thirty. Duke stopped at the desk and made them give him a different room.”
    Quinn waited silently. He knew Sal and Harold would also remain silent.
    â€œDuke just suddenly stopped,” Wanda said.
    â€œStopped what?” Quinn asked.
    â€œWhat he was doing. What we were doing up on the room. He just suddenly