There had better be someone good this time, Maggie Chase thought. She took a quick sip of the cheap, complimentary white wine and scanned the gathered crowd. Ugh. I’ve seen some of these guys before. Not worth my time to keep this up. Her gaze swept over a tall, nervous-looking fellow and a shorter man with an entire jar of pomade in his slicked-back black hair.
Oh well, I’m here now. Another sip of wine as the bell rang to signal the ladies to take their places for the evening. As she settled in at her table, Maggie looked over the other women in the room as well. They smell of desperation, every last one of them. She noticed a woman in her mid-thirties stand and start to leave. And she’s more desperate than all of them, just too afraid to admit it.
Maggie’s gaze followed the woman’s exit as it was halted by a brawny arm. She followed that well-sculpted appendage to the accompanying face and her breath caught in her throat. Now there was a good prospect. And the uniform doesn’t hurt, either. Maggie was so caught up in her own thoughts that she barely heard the policemen announce the murder.
She turned to the man who had sat down across from her, a man of medium build with brown hair and no distinguishing features: “Well, this should be an interesting night!”