Free Harley Jean Davidson 03 - Evil Elvis by Virginia Brown Page B

it.
     
    Just as Yogi left the stage, someone grabbed her arm and said, “Don’t blow my cover.”
     
    She’d been taking a drink of her Coke, and barely kept from spilling it. She looked up angrily. Then she choked, spraying the Elvis with Coke. Coughing and spluttering, she suffered a few blows on the back before recovering enough to say, “Morgan? What the hell are you doing?”
     
    Dressed in black leather pants, his dark hair styled in Elvis of sixty-eight, he narrowed his eyes while he brushed recycled Coke from his black leather jacket. “What does it look like?”
     
    “You’re an Elvis impersonator? Dear God—why didn’t I know about this dark side of your personality?”
     
    “Let’s go over here where we won’t be overheard.”
     
    Harley allowed him to guide her into the carpeted corridor outside the room, where she stood looking at him in the dim overhead lights. He even had a gold TCB necklace around his neck. Damn, for an Elvis impersonator, he really looked good.
     
    “I’m working a case,” he said softly, “so don’t blow my cover, okay?”
     
    “You mean gang-bangers and drug lords dress up like Elvis, too? Or are gunrunners smuggling weapons inside their jeweled capes and pink Cadillacs?”
     
    Mike’s mouth thinned. “Very funny.”
     
    “No, what’s funny is seeing you like this. Are you wearing make-up?” She couldn’t help it. She had to laugh. And the more she laughed, the more he scowled, but she couldn’t seem to control it.
     
    Mike leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “Believe me, it wasn’t my idea. I didn’t volunteer, that’s for sure.”
     
    Finally able to talk without giggling, Harley wiped her eyes. “I believe you. I can’t imagine what kind of case you’d be working that would require dressing as Elvis, but—”
     
    She stopped. He looked at her and she looked at him. Even though she knew he’d never admit it, she said, “You’re working the dead Elvises case, aren’t you. The police know the killer is another Elvis or someone connected to these competitions, don’t they? I knew I was on the right track.”
     
    “And just what the hell do you mean by that? Harley, if you’re messing around in that case—”
     
    “I never said I was.” Instant irritation set in. “Yogi is performing tonight, remember? I’ve got as much right to be here as anyone else. I just figured it had to involve an Elvis impersonator after the last murder, that’s all.”
     
    Morgan didn’t look trustful, but after a moment he nodded. “All right. Just don’t you get involved. Whoever the murderer is, he’s bold enough to kill in plain sight of two dozen tourists. I don’t think he’d hesitate to kill anyone else who got in his way.”
     
    “Well, I don’t have to worry about that since I don’t intend to get in his way.” That much was certainly true. She intended to pass along any information she learned to Tootsie and let him pass it on to his roommate, Steve the cop. Any credit for identifying the killer would only be made public after the police had made an arrest. While the most important thing was catching the killer, Tootsie hoped good publicity lessened any negative press generated by the murders on Memphis Tour Tyme buses. And it wouldn’t hurt Harley, either. She’d love to prove Bobby wrong, as well as Morgan. She wasn’t always a screw-up.
     
    “I hope not,” Mike was saying, “‘cause your luck may not hold out.”
     
    “And here I thought it was more than luck that kept me alive.”
     
    “Right, but there won’t always be someone around to rescue you.”
     
    “Rescue me?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I don’t recall anyone around in that warehouse, or showing up before I got away from that last maniac who intended to kill me.”
     
    “We seem to remember things differently. I showed up at the warehouse, and again right in the middle of the shooting last