Crime & Counterpoint (8 page)

Long-necked street lamps cast their dusty illumination upon the long lines of luxury sedans pulling into the club’s parking lot. The neon sign glowed bright purple as the broad ticker scrolled upcoming events, guest artists, and ticketing information.

A prowling BMW Z4 coupe rolled smoothly up to the glitzy entrance of The Purple Gazelle and paused. From the driver’s side, Zach emerged, an elevated bachelor with bored apathy on his handsome face. Shaved, well-groomed, and in a tailored tux. But his eyes – feral blue and soul-worn – somehow looked worse. It was the remnant poison from death’s sting. He tossed his keys to the ready valet without a word.

One hand in his pocket, he strode towards the gold-framed glass, greeting the doorman.

Dreading the moment he would face Jared’s whole family, Zach stepped through the doors as they opened to him. But instantly, a wealth of electric color and soulful ambiance surged over him in a tidal wave. He emerged on the other side in a world and time that were not his own.

The music, the glamor, the spotlights, the posh, high-tier décor swept him away in that first heartbeat. The stage was bright, hot, and sparkling while the rest of the club rested in cool, star-studded shadow. Gowns, tuxes, bow-tie waiters, silver society, and crystal dining composed every square inch of the dome. Couples of all ages packed the crescent-shaped dance floor, sashaying and whirling like trained professionals.

His chest vibrated with the captivating energy and pulsing vibes of the twenty-piece jazz orchestra as they played a burning fast number, functioning as a finely-tuned rhythm machine. It was a gripping, explosive experience more than just a mountain of sound. It shocked him out of his quagmire.

He paused in the foyer, soaking in the glittering spectacle, gaze panning the lowered main floor. A minute later, the flighty tune ended on an exhilarating high note, blasting him like cannon fire.

Strolling up to the smiling hostess, he gave the young ginger a fairly disarming grin, catching some of that uplifting fire which pervaded this place.

“Good evening, sir,” she greeted amidst a rumbling outpour of applause. “Welcome to
The Purple Gazelle
. Would you like to sit at the bar or do you have a reservation?”

“Actually, I’m with the Greene party,” he answered politely.

“Yes, of course. Right this way.” She led him towards the left to the staircase cordoned off with the braided rope. Disengaging one end, she pulled it away so he could pass through. Just before he did, however, he caught sight of a dark-haired man in his early forties with a Slavic look about him staring hawkishly from a booth. Zach thought he detected malice, but he brushed off the notion. The only danger he’d be facing here was his family.

At the top, several tables in the curved balcony had been pushed together to allow the entire party room to sit. A length of privacy glass formed the left wall of the balcony, through which he assumed the club’s administration could see him.

The buzz of the family guests blended with the music in a cacophonous symphony that he wasn’t sure he liked. Zach heard his grandmother’s sonorous British inflection and located her near the middle of the table. He made his way towards her.

“Good Lord,” Abigail uttered when she saw six-foot-three of dashing towering before her. “Who are you and what on earth have you done with my grandson?”

Zach grinned as he bent forward to give her a kiss on her gently weathered cheek.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” she said, patting his smooth-shaven face – a rare thing indeed.

“Carrie threatened me,” he replied, a wry smile turning up one corner of his mouth as he crouched, resting on his haunches to talk to her better.

Abigail laughed merrily. “Good for her. It wouldn’t kill you to socialize every once in a while.”

He smirked. “I hate to contradict, but –” His gaze suddenly fixed onto the dominant instrument on stage, the grand piano. But more importantly, the girl seated at it. Granted, he was far away, but he could make her out clearly enough. The pianist from Ramone’s.

He studied her intently as much from shock as appreciation. A deep red halter gown outlined her sensual curves, leaving her slender shoulders and arms uncovered. Rich, mahogany hair cascaded in full-bodied waves down her back, moving with her as she attacked the keys with an innate vigor he hadn’t judged her to possess.

“Lovely, isn’t she?”

Zach blinked and glanced at his grandmother. “Who?”

“The girl at whom you’re staring so blatantly.” Abigail suppressed a pleasurable smile. “Shelley.”

His eyes darkened to a stormy blue as his thoughts ran the gamut. “You
know
her?”

Abigail arched her brow. “Of course I do.” She looked at him skeptically. “Don’t
you
recognize her?”

“Nnn” – he started shaking his head – “I don’t.”

“Don’t bother lying,” she chastised. “She’s James’ and Erik’s younger sister.”

She what?!
He didn’t know what to say. Maybe he should just feign some police emergency and –

“
Za-ach!
”
Carrie rang out, spotting him from a few chairs away.

“Duty calls,” Abigail crooned, a gleam lighting her countenance. “But I expect a full report later.” She gave her grandson another pat and sent him off.

Despite his apprehension, Zach went to greet Carrie who sat with her fiancé Jared and his parents, Bill and Barbara Greene. There was one vacant seat next to a petite blonde who looked at him and smiled flirtatiously. He cringed. But she bore slight resemblance to her older sister Melissa, the one he actually knew from years gone by.

Carrie stood to welcome him. Rising on tiptoe, she gave him a warm hug, speaking into his ear. “Oh, my God, Zach. You look amazing. Thank you
so
much.” Then, she pointed to the empty place next to the hungry tigress, as Zach was afraid she would, and instructed him to sit. “Have you met Ashleigh?”

“Uh, maybe. Long time ago.” Going against his nature, Zach greeted Ashleigh with uncanny charm as he took the designated seat.

“And I think you already know everyone else,” Carrie continued, settling herself next to her fiancé.

Jared reached around Carrie to grip Zach’s hand. “You clean up pretty good, man. Never would’ve recognized you.”

Zach gave him a perfunctory smile. “That’s the idea.”

Bill, the quintessential plastic surgeon, graciously extended a warm palm. “It’s been a long time, son.”

Zach forced a smile. “Yes, sir. It has.”

“Amazing how people can live in the same city and go for years without seeing each other,” Bill commented without hidden malice.

“Yeah. It’s – it’s tough,” Zach replied somewhat guiltily.

Barbara Greene, a lemon shark in lime waters, arched her brows coldly. “Isn’t it just.” She appraised him. “My, my but you’ve changed. Abigail,” she said across the table, “you didn’t tell me he’d turned into such a divine catch.”

Abigail beamed with pleasure and pride but countered, “Oh, don’t even go there, Barb. I’ve long since abandoned matchmaking with him. He’s committed to his job.”

“About that. Jared’s been keeping me up to date,” Bill said to Zach. “Heard you run into a lot of trouble.”

“Well, he doesn’t run from it,” Jared input. To his mom: “He comes in with something major every month or so. I can count on it like flu season. What was it this time?” He queried Zach. “A nine-mil or a three-fifty-seven?”

Zach grudgingly replied, “Point forty-five.”

“That’s right. A gaping hole. And it was this close to collapsing his left lung,” Jared said, demonstrating with his thumb and forefinger for the benefit of his dad.

Carrie backhanded her groom-to-be. “Stop being so disgusting.”

Ignoring her: “Plus, he had one in his shoulder. Had to get a specialist to put it back together. But check this.” He looked at Zach wryly. “How’s it feel now?”

Zach made a slight rolling motion with his previously injured joint and nodded. “Just fine.”

Jared shook his head. “See? Three weeks. He’s unbelievable.”

Barb reappraised Zach. “Is that so?”

The senior Dr. Greene frowned. “I hate to sound morbid, but aren’t you the least worried about dying?”

Zach’s face shadowed, and he felt his grandmother’s gaze on him. He refused to look her way.

“Okay, moving on,” Carrie said brightly. “I can’t believe Grandma lives right across from Ashleigh now.”

“Mm hm. And Shelley especially loves having her,” Ashleigh bubbled, tossing her sunshine curls and giving Zach a shimmery, lip gloss smile. “We’ve been there about two years. Did you know that?”

“You know we bought that place originally to rent it out,” Bill said, “but when Ashleigh decided to transfer to NYU, we thought let her stay there. And right around the same time, Shelley was looking for–”

“An asylum,” Barbara intoned.

Bill gave her a silencing look which could have wilted cactus – if only she was. “A place to stay in the city. Couldn’t have worked out better.” He directed a smile towards his daughter. “We essentially got a free chaperone for our baby.”

Ashleigh beamed. “Love you, Daddy,” she said with too much sugar and reached out to peck his cheek, still clutching her new iPhone.

Zach had to refrain from any eye-rolling.

Jared directed his attention to the stage and thereby the pianist. He pointed at Shelley. “I can’t believe she’s even playing again. You should have said something, Ash.”

“I didn’t remember it was here!” Ashleigh defended. “And anyway, she made me promise not to say anything. It’s only been like a couple weeks.”

Barb, who’d been watching Zach closely, said without altering her x-ray vision. “Just wait ‘til her mother finds out,” she crooned, swirling her cabernet. “Playing at a club and not telling her family. Or us. And we practically raised her.” She managed to harrumph in a most supercilious manner.

“Now honey,” Bill tempered. “Shelley’s a big girl, she can make her own decisions. Though I don’t know why she didn’t even tell me.” To Zach, he said by way of explanation: “She’s my goddaughter, you know.”

Great.
Zach felt his face grow hot. Barb continued to strip his soul, one tormented layer at a time.

“So Jared,” Carrie said, looking to Zach, “I wanna hear some more high school stories about you guys.”

Zach grimaced. “No, no, no. Let’s not bring that up, please.”

“Sorry man. I have to. Carter, James, Brad, and I were all in the same class with Zach,” Jared began, grinning. “Erik was a year behind but always tagging along.”

Zach looked beseechingly at his grandmother.

“This is good for you, dear.” Abigail said it with a light tease to her voice.

“I’d like to say we were all popular studs, but truthfully we were a ragtag bunch,” Jared continued. “Carter and James were all about debate teams and crap. Brad was a baseball fanatic. I was the science geek.”

Zach frowned. “By science you mean social sciences because you only slept with –”

“Baaaa! This isn’t about me!” Jared shot back with a grin.

“No, I wanna hear,” Carrie said, brows riding high. “Tell me more about social sciences, Zach.”

“He told every hot girl that he came from a long line of respected surgeons –”

“Which is true!” Jared interjected.

“– which naturally made their clothes just fall–”

“Oh okay! You wanna tell
stories
?” Jared adjusted himself, elbows on the table. “Let’s dust off the history, shall we? Zach here was the only one who didn’t really fit our motley crew. Star QB dating the head cheerleader who inevitably couldn’t take his infectious personality and cheated on our boy with a fullback who got her pregnant!”

Carrie and Ashleigh gushed over this while Barb tilted her head urbanely.

“How come you never told me that?” Carrie said.

“Why?” Zach returned. “The whole school knew anyway. And –”

“And your parents were getting divorced,” Jared finished. But the table grew quiet, yielding to the pervasive music. He sobered. “Sorry, man.”

Zach forced an ‘it’s okay’ smile, dropping his gaze.

Abigail intervened. “Let’s change topics. Carrie, are you all set for the wedding?”

“Yes. Let’s talk about that,” Barb said, delving in with gritty enthusiasm. “Do you know Shelley’s not going?”

Carrie’s countenance fell. “What? Why?” She looked to Jared questioningly. “She has to be there.” And then to her grandmother. “Make her go. Does she have a date? Zach can take her.”

The detective grimaced. “Uh, no, I can’t.”

“Well, if you do,” Barb said, “I suggest you watch out. She’s a bit of a black widow.”

Zach narrowed his eyes.

Bill shook his head in disapproval. “Dear, that implies she’s killed every man she’s been with.”

“Hasn’t she?”

“But what about Carter?” Ashleigh piped up, texting studiously. “He’s still around… sort of.”