John A Lenahan - Ice Lake

“You got a fiver for the box?”

“Huh?”

“The jukebox.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry said, handing over a fiver. “What happened to quarter jukeboxes?”

If she heard the question she didn’t acknowledge it. She punched the buttons that allowed some sort of trance music to escape. “How good your dance is depends on your tip. A twentydollar tip is customary – up front.”

“A one hundred per cent tip?”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Quality costs.”

“Yes, of course,” Harry said, handing her a twenty. “I’m just getting used to this new Pocono economy.”

There was no “stripping” involved. Harmony undid the two buttons on her lab coat and dropped it to the floor. From then on Harry’s imagination went on holiday because there was nothing left for it to do. Harmony turned and touched her toes and then sat on Harry’s lap and grinded in a clockwise motion. Harry put his hands at her sides in an attempt to lift her off his lap, but she grabbed the back of his hands and pulled them up to her breasts while leaning in and blowing into his ear.

He was momentarily distracted but finally said: “Ah, Harmony, could we talk?”

She arched her back and grinded harder into Harry’s, not unresponsive, lap. “I’m a dancer.” She again fell back against Harry’s chest and got so close he could feel her wet lips against his ear, “I don’t talk.”

“Not even about Big Bill?”

The gyration stopped. Harmony reached down, picked up her lab coat and then stood holding it in front of her like it was a towel and she had just stepped from a shower. “What about Bill?”

“I’d like to ask you a few questions about him, if I may?”

“You a cop?”

“No, but I’m working with them.”

“Do you have any ID?”

“Not really, I have a driver’s license.”

“Why are you talking to me here?”

“I thought it would be easier, more relaxed.” Harry looked around the tiny cubicle and shrugged. “I think I was wrong.”

A voice came from the other side of the curtain. “You OK in there, Sara?”

Harmony stared at Harry, trying to make up her mind about him. When the guy on the other side of the curtain didn’t hear anything he pushed it open. Harry was expecting one of the neckless bouncers, but instead, standing there, was a man he hadn’t seen before. He was tall and dark, maybe Middle Eastern, with a full moustache circa 1970s porn star.

Harmony spun around and took an involuntary step back, treading on Harry’s foot and almost falling over.

“What’s going on here?” the man asked.

Harmony put on her lab coat. She was obviously intimidated by the man and was struggling to come up with a response.

“I hear you been asking about Big Bill?” the man said, stepping into the alcove that wasn’t really big enough for the three of them. “You a cop? If you’re a cop you have to say you’re a cop.”

“I’m not a cop.”

The man stepped closer and pushed Harmony behind him. “Then what the fuck are you?”

This was a hypothetical question that, at that moment, Harry was unprepared to answer.

“I want you out.”

“If you back up,” Harry said as calmly as he could, “then maybe I could stand.”

“You telling me what to do in my own club?”

There are lots of theories on how to defuse aggressive situations and Harry knew them all. In his experience, predicaments like this usually got defused when the aggressor’s fist made contact with Harry’s nose. After a split second mental game of eenie, meeny, miny, mo Harry decided on polite submissive.

“No, sir.”

The man grabbed the cloth on Harry’s shirt sleeve just below the shoulder and dragged him out to the main room. The bouncers jumped to their feet when they saw Harry and the man come out from the back of the club. The man pushed Harry into the bouncers and pointed to the door.

“Hey hey hey,” came the jovial voice of Cirba as the two men roughly grabbed Harry by his shirt and his arm. “What’s goin’ on here?”

“This is none of your business,” the man said.

Cirba reached into his back pocket and expertly flipped open a wallet displaying his badge. “How about I make it my business?”

The bouncers didn’t let go of Harry but they stopped and looked to the man for instruction.

“What has my colleague done to prompt such treatment?”

“He was hassling the girls. The management has the right—”

“Yeah yeah,” Cirba interrupted. “I read the sign on the way in. Could you unhand my friend, please? He doesn’t really look like much of a troublemaker to me.”

The bouncers looked to their boss, who nodded, and Harry was released.

“Is this the woman Mr Cull was hassling?” Cirba pointed to Harmony who was standing in the entrance to the back rooms clutching her lab coat to her chest.

“One of them.”

“Multiple hassling – my, you’ve been busy, Harry.”

Harry gave Cirba a shrug.

“We came tonight to speak to this woman about a murder investigation.”

The man turned to Harmony and said: “You don’t have to talk to him.” Then back to Cirba. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Surely the lady can speak for herself.”

All eyes were on Harmony as she quietly looked at the floor and said: “I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

“Now I’m assuming you don’t have a warrant, officer…”

“Cirba,” Cirba offered and shook his head no.

“So I would like to ask you and him to leave.”

“Do you want me to get a warrant, Mr… ?”

The man did not return the courtesy of offering his name. “Yes, Officer Cirba, that is exactly what I want you to do.”

“We shall meet again,” Cirba said and then to Harry, “Come, Watson.”

Harry took a step towards the door, stopped and said: “Oh, I forgot.” He took out his wallet, pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of it and took a step back into the club. The bouncers closed together like elevator doors. Harry flashed the bill and said: “I just never got to give the young lady a tip.” They let him past and he approached Harmony. She extended her hand, but Harry slid the money into one of the pockets on her lab coat and smiled at her. As he walked out of the club he said: “I’ll recommend this place to my friends.”

* * *

Outside Cirba stood next to his car staring up at the starry sky.

Harry waited by the passenger door for the trooper to unlock it. Finally, he asked: “You OK?”

Cirba look down from the firmament and said: “What part of undercover do you not understand?”

“Hey. Firstly, I’m not an undercover cop. You hired me to be subtle, not covert, and secondly – those folks in there are awfully twitchy. I asked the skinny stripper one tiny question and she went straight to the boss. At least I’m assuming he was the boss. Can I ask you a question?”

Cirba sighed, clicked his car remote. “I guess.”

As they both climbed in Harry asked: “How come you didn’t haul that guy, and the girl, back to the station? Or at least threaten to?”

Cirba started the engine but didn’t put the car in drive. “Well, it would have been an idle threat. I wasn’t prepared to haul anybody in.”

“Why not? That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? I’ve got nothing better to do tonight and those folks really need to answer some questions.”

“Yeah it’s just… I wasn’t ready to bring you to headquarters yet.”

“Me? Why?”

“Well, you don’t have clearance… for interrogation.”

“I thought you hired me as an interrogator?”

“I did but that’s just it. I hired you.”

“What do you mean, ‘I hired you?’ I’m not hired by the PA State Police?”