Ophelia sat straight. “You think he was shooting at Gideon?”

  Constantine gulped an oyster. “How should I know? It’s one way of seeing things.”

  “My God! We have to speak to Gideon now.”

  But Gideon didn’t answer his phone, even though she called over and over while Constantine polished off the oysters and fries and made arrangements to pick up Art and meet Violet at a club.

  “Maybe I drowned his phone,” Ophelia said. “If Gideon gets shot because of me…” It didn’t bear thinking of.

  Constantine grabbed Ophelia’s cell and left a message. “Ophelia’s freaking out. She thinks that shot this morning might have been meant for you.”

  Ophelia lunged for the phone, but Constantine had already closed it. “He knows how to watch his back. Besides, I need you tonight.”

  “You’re coming, too? Thank God!” Artemisia tottered out her front door a few hours later in the electric blue gown and hugged Ophelia. She glanced guiltily at Constantine. “I’m sorry, but you scare me to death, and Vi doesn’t understand how hard this is for me! I feel like an idiot in this dress. Are you sure Darby and Marissa will be there?”

  Constantine motioned Art inside his current truck, another big hunk of metal. “All arranged.”

  “Arranged how? What’s going to happen?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “You’re making Art uncomfortable,” Ophelia said, getting in beside her. “Look how she’s shivering, and it’s not even cold.”

  Constantine pulled away from the curb, heading toward downtown. “It’ll be over soon.”

  Ophelia shot him a glance. What would be over? He was being aggravatingly mysterious, but she couldn’t refuse to help someone to whom she owed so much.

  “It’s not Constantine’s fault,” Art said. “It’s just that I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Dress or no dress, I can’t slink up to Dar and vamp him away from that woman.”

  “You won’t have to,” Constantine said in his sinister voice.

  Ophelia shot him another look, opened her mouth to ask a question, and shut it again.

  Art shuddered. “What’s he going to do?”

  “How should I know?” Ophelia said irritably. “He won’t tell me a thing.”

  “Trust me.” Constantine laughed.

  Ophelia rolled her eyes. “Art, forget about what Constantine’s planning and think about what you want from this evening. Are you sure you want Darby? What if he falls for you and then you break his heart?”

  “Of course I want him! I’ve loved him ever since I was sixteen. I just didn’t know.” After a tense silence, she muttered, “I should have. I could have, if I hadn’t been so dumb.”

  “Dude might have changed some since then,” Constantine said.

  “He’s still Dar,” Art said gruffly.

  They entered the Chamber by the employee door, bypassed the haze and heavy music of the dance hall, and were ushered into a cool, dim room with a stage at one end and an array of tables, a few of which were unoccupied. Ophelia muttered something obscene as she took a seat at Constantine’s reserved table and ditched her shoes. “Why are we here?”

  “For the floor show,” Constantine said in that same creepy voice. Ophelia recognized this mood. He wasn’t being sinister on purpose. He was gearing up for something highly unpleasant, and it couldn’t be just to help Art get her hands on Darby Sims. Meanwhile, all Ophelia could think of was Gideon, the decision she had to make, and the job she had to do in the morning.

  Art sat at Constantine’s other side. Slow, sultry music played in the background. Art gazed at the purple and gold decor, the handcuffs daisy-chained across the ceiling, the phallic pillars, and the frankly inviting plaster flowers clustered above. “Any show in this place has got to be all about sex. If Dar’s bringing Marissa here, I may as well go home right now.”

  “Stop fussing,” Constantine said. “Relax and enjoy the view.”

  “What view?” Art protested, and then a waiter dressed in nothing but a loincloth came by to offer drinks. She stammered out, “Rum and Coke,” and when the waiter and his pecs and his bare ass had lounged away, she blurted, “This is one of the respectable clubs?”

  “No one underage, no one gets hurt,” Constantine said. “Apart from that, there aren’t a lot of rules.”

  “There’s only one table left,” Art said. “What if there’s no room when they get here? And I still don’t see how—”

  The house lights dimmed, a row of spots at the back of the stage flicked on, and a tiger-striped couch was rolled onto the stage by two hulking, almost-naked men, one of whom was Darby Sims. A cheer rose. Darby and the other guy saluted the audience with a bump of their bare butts and strolled away into the wings.

  Art made a tiny whimpering sound. She flicked her eyes to Ophelia, who shrugged and laughed. A few seconds later, Darby returned with leopard-skin chairs and stools. The music segued into a low bump and grind. In the rear, a female voice piped up. “Take it off, take it all off!”

  Darby grinned, raised his beautifully-defined arms over his head, and languidly humped the room as a whole. Then he turned his magnificent rear to the audience and sauntered away.

  “Oh, my Lord in Heaven,” Art said reverently. “Dar has the world’s most beautiful butt.”

  Their drinks appeared, and so did Darby and the other guy with more props. Again. And again. Ophelia drummed her fingers on the table and sipped her Cosmopolitan. Art dragged her eyes away from Darby’s nether regions long enough to take a huge swallow of rum and Coke. She choked out a question. “Why’s he working in the theater? Gideon said he got a job as a tattoo artist!”

  “Not till next week, so he’s temping as a stagehand for a night or two,” Constantine said.

  “I don’t believe this,” Art whispered. “How can he be so comfortable, almost naked, with all these people watching?” She chugged some more rum and Coke.

  “He part-timed at a club in Atlanta as an exotic dancer,” Constantine said. “That’s where he met Johnny and Marissa Parkerson. My sources are more thorough than Vi’s.”

  “How come I never knew?” She raised her mug again.

  “Better nurse that drink, Art,” Constantine said. “You too, Ophelia.”

  Ophelia cuddled her Cosmopolitan. “It relaxes me. I’m nervous as hell.”

  “This makes you nervous?” Art’s eyes dimmed as Darby left the stage and the emcee came on. “I’m not sure what it makes me. I could watch Dar forever.”

  Ophelia said around the red straw in her drink, “Your boyfriend-to-be does have an excellent ass.”

  “Hey,” Art said. “Keep your eyes to yourself! His ass belongs to me!” Even in the dim light, her blush was vivid. “I can’t believe I said that.” She glared at her empty glass as if it had done her wrong.

  Ophelia hardly noticed the transvestite song-and-dance routine that opened the show. What should she say to Gideon when they next met? If he didn’t really suspect her, if he didn’t want to arrest her, she still had to explain herself to him, explain why she wasn’t safe. Either that, or reject him for good. “Don’t do either,” Constantine had said on the ride to pick up Art. “Start a new life.” But it wasn’t that simple or that easy. Constantine should understand that, if anyone.

  More drinks came. The trannies pranced off the stage, and Art gazed hopefully at the wings. No Darby. Another revue—this time an abundance of T and A—swung on in their wake.

  “Ah.” Constantine motioned his chin toward the doorway, where Reuben hovered with Marissa hanging adoringly on his arm. Reuben and Constantine had hardly locked eyes before Constantine’s dropped to his drink. “Don’t watch them. I don’t want her to see me yet.” Reuben steered his date toward the empty table.

  Art groaned. “Constantine’s going to terrify that poor woman by just looking at her.”

  So that was it. I really do have no choice, thought Ophelia.

  “I hate this,” Art said. “She’s not even with Dar tonight. I wish I’d got up the nerve to ask Dar out myself.”

  “I’m not doing this because of you,” Constantine said. “She was never Darby’s girlfriend. She hired him to look for Johnny, because he was coming here anyway.” He turned to Ophelia. “Look her way. Be sultry.”

  Ophelia fidgeted with the little red straw. “You are so brutal sometimes.”

  “Uh-huh,” Constantine agreed. Damn him.

  “Marissa needs to know whether her husband’s dead or alive,” Ophelia said. “Maybe she has insurance money coming. Maybe she wants to marry again.”

  “I can’t tie up everybody’s loose ends,” Constantine said. “Throw out a bit of allure. Enough so she sees you, but don’t start a riot.” When Ophelia still hesitated he said, “This is for you as much as for me, babe. Do it.”

  Oh, hell. Ophelia obeyed, turning it up slowly, hating how heads turned her way. Just as the act ended, a startled cry sliced into the room.

  “What’s she doing here?” Marissa whimpered. “I don’t like this place.” She half-rose, but Reuben’s solicitous arm went around her shoulders and pushed her gently into her seat. Every man in the room and half the women stared at Ophelia. A man at the next table forgot his date entirely and surged forward, but stumbled back in a hurry when Constantine spun his way. Art wrapped her arms around herself and looked miserable.

  Ophelia said, “Good enough?” and returned grumpily to her Cosmopolitan. “Damn it, Constantine, I’m trying to think. I have a decision to make.”

  Constantine pried the drink from Ophelia’s grip and signaled to the waiter. “What decision? You’re head over heels for the dude.” He glanced sideways at Marissa, leaning now into Reuben’s protective embrace. “We’ll let her stew for a while.”

  Art said, “I wish I could go home.” She took another swallow of her drink. “I wish I could go home with Dar.”

  Ophelia retrieved her Cosmopolitan and guzzled some more. Constantine took it away again. “Cool it,” he said quietly. “You’ve already decided in Gideon’s favor and know it.”

  “You should marry him,” Art said. “I need to marry Dar.”

  “Not that decision,” Ophelia said. “I have to tell him.”

  “You haven’t told him you love him?” Art bit her lip. “I need to tell Dar, but I’m so scared.”

  “For God’s sake, why?” Constantine rolled his eyes. “Let it go and move on.”

  “Let him go?” Art said. “I haven’t even got him yet.” She drooped over her drink. “If he doesn’t love me back, I will have to move on.”

  “What if I end up marrying him?” Ophelia said. “I won’t be able to live with myself.”

  “You won’t have to live with yourself,” Art giggled. “You’ll live with Gideon. Happily ever after.”

  Constantine blew out an incredulous breath. “Do what you have to. It’s your funeral, babe.”

  “Hey,” Art said, “I’m a modern woman. I won’t die just because some gorgeous dumbass doesn’t love me.” Tears trickled slowly down her cheeks and into her rum and Coke.

  “What if I’m wrong?” Ophelia whispered. “Even if he’s not scum, what if he doesn’t understand? What if I can’t trust him? I’m still not sure he wasn’t going to arrest me today.”

  “His funeral, if he does,” Constantine said. “He’s a good guy, and he’s right for you. Why burden him with your baggage? Leave it be.”

  “Nobody with an ass like that could possibly be right for me,” Art sobbed. “I worship Dar’s beautiful black butt! Oh, my God, did I say that out loud?”

  The waiter set coffee and walnut cake before them, and Constantine got rid of Ophelia’s Cosmopolitan for good. Art’s rum and Coke disappeared, too.

  Constantine sat up straight. “Let’s ramp it up a little before the next act. This time she gets to see me.” He shook his long, wild hair out of its ponytail and turned to face Marissa.

  As if on the end of an invisible string, the blonde’s head jerked around. “There he is!” she gibbered. “Can’t you see? He wants to kill me!”

  Constantine let go of that invisible thread and fed Ophelia a forkful of cake. Reuben murmured soothingly to Marissa.

  “You set her up,” Art said. “She thought she had a date with a hot guy, but he’s in cahoots with you. That’s so cruel!”

  “Look for trouble and trouble will find you.” Constantine put a hand on Art’s, and she jumped. “Calm down,” he said, kind yet cold. “Marissa is not your concern. I’d do it whether or not you were here. Right, Ophelia?”

  “Right,” Ophelia said ungratefully.

  Whatever song and dance was going on up there ended, the house lights came on, and finally the stage hands reappeared, goofing around as they cleared the stage. They set up an array of whips and floggers and finally humped their way to center stage behind two massive naked dolls.

  “Hi!” Violet tripped across the room, followed by Donnie Donaldson. Art raised a vague hand, her eyes devouring Dar, and then Violet got in the way.

  “Hey,” Art shrieked, leaping out of her chair. “You’re blocking my view!”

  Dar’s head whipped around.

  “Go Dar!” Art hollered. “Don’t wear yourself out. Save some for me!”

  The crowd roared. Darby grinned and blew her a kiss, and with an extra bit of bump and grind, set back to work.

  Violet and Constantine laughed. Art put her face in her hands and wept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Realization slammed into Ophelia. She shoved her face against Constantine’s shoulder, dug her fingers into his chest, and bit down hard. Her fangs sliced through her lip. She grunted with pain and clung tight.

  Constantine always caught on fast. “I know it’s funny, but do you have to slobber all over my arm?”

  Blood drizzled from Ophelia’s mouth, staining his sleeve. She sucked her fangs out of her lip and willed the goddamned things back into place. No way. Not with Plato’s murderer only a few yards away.

  “Ophelia,” Violet asked, “are you okay?”

  “She’s drunk,” Constantine said. “So is Artemisia, hence the complete lack of inhibition.”

  “That’s not like Ophelia,” Violet said. “She must be horribly stressed, and no wonder, poor angel.”

  If I was drunk before, I sure am sober now. Ophelia wiped her lip on Constantine’s sleeve and licked the cut shut. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, waiting for the fangs to give up the fight, wondering how she could get away with not looking at Vi and her…date. Rage boiled up like lava, hot and relentless, and with it, hurt and chagrin. He’d been a good neighbor, almost a friend. How could he? And why?

  “Introduce me to your friend, Vi.” Constantine sounded amused.

  “This is Donnie, Ophelia’s neighbor. He dropped by and wanted to come along.”

  “Not the vandal, I hope?” Constantine was quivering with suppressed laughter.

  “Of course not,” Vi said. “Donnie’s harmless.”

  Ophelia hissed and almost sliced her lip again.

  “Ophelia, you’re not going to barf on me, are you?” Constantine asked dangerously. “I’ll only put up with so much.”

  Artemisia stood shakily. “I’m definitely going to barf.” She plunged toward the restroom.

  “You too, Ophelia.” Constantine slung her over his shoulder and followed more leisurely. Outside the ladies’ room, he set her on her feet. “That’s the killer?”

  Ophelia manually forced the fangs into their slots, snarling. “He’s with my sister!”

  Constantine shook with laughter. “So he is. How did you figure it out?”

  “You figured it out. You told me that shot was for Gideon, not for me.”

  “So?”

  “Donnie sent Gideon to the river after me. He’s the only one who knew Gideon would be there. He could have driven to the other side of the river and set up in one of the empty houses in minutes. Come to think of it, he built that secret compartment for the man who used to live in my trailer. And now he’s got Vi! What are we going to do? Stop laughing, damn it!”

  “Vi can take care of herself.”

  “What if she sleeps with him? I can’t let her sleep with a murderer!”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Constantine said. “There’s a certain cachet to it. Look at all the misguided women clamoring to sleep with me.”

  Ophelia stifled the urge to slug him. “What if she won’t sleep with him and he gets pissed off? He’s been gaga about her for ages, but she’s never shown much interest.”

  Constantine chuckled. “I foresee an amusing evening. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s safe. You okay now? We can’t let the dude know we’re on to him.”

  “I have to talk to Gideon tonight,” Ophelia said. Oh God, yes. Oh God, no.

  She found Art past the worst, but still hunched groaning over the toilet bowl.

  “I am such an idiot,” Art said, accepting wet paper towels and wiping her face. “He didn’t look turned off, did he?”

  “He looked thrilled.” Ophelia hauled her from the stall to the sink. “Rinse and spit.”

  “I’ll never get rid of this vile taste,” Art said, spitting again and again. “What if he—? Maybe he was just putting on an act. I mean, he was up on stage. He couldn’t very well yell, ‘You disgusting slut.’ ”

  “He wasn’t disgusted, and now he knows you aren’t turned off by his questionable past either. Everything’s working out perfectly.” For you. And I’m happy for you. “Coffee and cake is what you need. We both need.”

  “But what do I do now?” Art faltered when they reached the table again.

  “You wait for Dar to come to you. I’ll cozy up to Constantine, so it won’t look like you’re with him.” And I won’t have to look at Donnie.

  Her vile, worthless, murdering neighbor, thank God, was dividing his attention between Violet and the activity on stage. She motioned Constantine one chair over and plopped down between him and Art, giving him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “More cake and cappuccino! You’re a darling.” As she dug into the cake, she told herself, Get sober, build your courage, and go.