The Dance

February fourteenth. The date I had been both looking forward to and dreading ever since December. That’s when Dani Coleman, the artist I was seeing on a pretty regular basis, told me about the dance the art gallery where she sold her paintings was going to have. They were holding it as a fundraiser and she’d already purchased two tickets, assuming I would escort her. Well, she didn’t really assume, she just asked if I would. Of course, I said yes, so besotted with the woman that I forgot my aversion to dancing.

There was a lot to be besotted about. Silver-blonde hair, blue eyes, and almost as tall as me, and I’m 6 feet 2 inches. And built like a brick . . . on top of that, bright, witty, talented, and a tennis player. And she was willing to learn golf when it got warmer. We liked the same music, same movies, and lying around doing nothing on a Sunday morning. So, I lived through Christmas, New Years, and the rest of January before Dani reminded me about the dance. “Formal?” I asked, anticipating the answer I got.

“Yes,” she replied, which meant I better see if the tux still fit. It should, I was the same weight I’d been four years ago when I bought it. Eddie and I did some jobs that required formal wear, including squiring Miss Rosalyn Weeks to more than one event when she was in LA, and I couldn’t see any sense in renting somebody else’s clothes. Besides, this way I could have the tux fitted to me and believe me, it makes a difference in the way the formal suit looks on you and fits on you. I’d had it cleaned after I wore it the last time, so I didn’t have to worry about that. Eddie used to call them penguin suits. Eddie had a funny name for everything.

It wasn’t the dance itself . . . it was dancing in general. I’m great when it comes to a foxtrot, or a waltz, or even a rumba, and I can hold my own in a tango, but I wasn’t sure what kind of music was going to be performed. And if the orchestra played some of the crap out there now . . . well, I was lost. I’d built up this dance in my head as something that wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience. Of course, I hadn’t informed Dani of my aversion to so called fast dancing. How could you feel the woman you were dancing with if you were three feet apart? And every part of your body was twitching?

When I went to pick up my date I was blown away. That was my first glimpse of her in an evening gown, and God, she was beautiful. The dress was black, sleeveless, and plunging. She wore the ruby necklace I’d given her for Christmas, and all I can tell you is she took my breath away. With a black satin evening coat just to take the chill off, I forgot about my aversion to dancing and was proud to escort her.

We shared a table with four of her friends I’d already met. Tennis players all, at least we had some common ground to discuss, and I didn’t feel so much like a duck out of water. Besides, the men all played golf and we’d been talking about getting out on the links. Everything seemed to be going pretty well; it didn’t hurt that champagne was everywhere and we’d all had at least two glasses by the time the orchestra took its place. Imagine my relief when the first song they played was a waltz. “Dani, would you like to dance?”

“Of course,” she answered with a smile, and I helped her up. “We never talked about this,” she said. “Do you dance?”

I just grinned back at her. “Hide and watch.” I swept her into a waltz and she looked immediately pleased.

“I should have known. What else can you do?”

“Oh, just a few things. Foxtrot, rumba, tango, and I used to know the cha-cha.”

“A man of many talents. I see I asked the right man to be my escort.”

“Who else would you ask?” I questioned her.

“That is true. You’ve taken me out of circulation.”

I held her close as we whirled around the floor. “That was the plan, Dani.”

“I wasn’t complaining.” We finished the waltz and they played a foxtrot. “Another?”

“Oh, yes. I love the foxtrot.” When that was over, we went back to the table.

“Alright, Simon, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” Luke Felder complained, laughing.

“Yeah, I bet he plays golf the same way. What’s your handicap, anyway?” David Monroe asked me.

I was gonna catch hell from my potential playing partners, but I wasn’t about to lie. “Seven,” I answered sheepishly.

“See, what did I tell you? Every time we play, he’s going to beat the pants off us,” David chortled.

“That’s really good, isn’t it?” Dani asked sincerely.

“Your friend is practically a golf pro,” Luke explained.

“But I haven’t played in a while,” I tried to protest.

“We are not betting when we play,” Luke insisted.

“Fine by me.”

The orchestra began another waltz, and I grabbed my champagne and took a drink. “Miss Dani, any interest?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered me, beaming.

After the second waltz they played “Put Your Head on my Shoulder,” followed by “Stardust”, then a Patsy Klein slow song I couldn’t remember the name of, and we stayed on the dance floor. Finally, when that was over Dani suggested we go to the bar and get something to drink besides champagne. “What would you like?”

“A Chopin martini, very dry, with two olives.”

“They probably don’t have Chopin, sweetie.”

“Oh yes they do,” she replied. “I made sure of it.”

“Two Chopin martinis, very dry, two olives.” I carried them back to the table, which we had just reached, when there was a bloodcurdling scream from the ladies’ room. My head came up and Dani looked at me, with that frightened look in her eyes.

“Go,” she told me; I set the martinis down and ran in the direction of the lady’s room. By the time I got there a crowd had already gathered, and I had to make my way through that before I could see what happened. An attractive woman of thirty or thirty-five was on the floor, with blonde hair and a bright red ball gown. I pushed my way through the crowd and was at the prone woman’s feet when I saw a man kneeling next to her, and he was reaching for something on the floor.

“Stop!” I cried, and he froze. “Don’t touch anything. Somebody call the police.”

“What about an ambulance?” I heard a voice ask.

I shook my head. “Won’t do any good,” I answered. I’d finally gotten close enough to see that her dress hadn’t been red; it was white. There was a substantial pool of blood behind her head, getting bigger by the second. The man kneeling next to her was reaching for a large piece of jagged glass; somebody had cut her throat from ear to ear.

XXXXXXXX

By the time the police got there I’d gotten everybody out of the restroom without anything being taken or anybody walking in the blood pool. The first officer in the restroom looked at me and asked, “Detective?”

I shook my head. “PI,” I answered.

“Credentials?” I learned a long time ago to always carry my PI license. Always. The one time you’ll need it is the time you don’t have it. I got my license out and showed it to him. He took a quick look at it and nodded. “Tell me what you know.”

“I’m here with my girlfriend; she’s an artist. We’d just gotten back to our table when I heard a scream. I don’t know if it was hers or somebody else’s. By the time I got here there was already a blood pool, and she was dead. A man was about to pick up the glass and I stopped him. I told someone to call the police and I cleared everybody out and put on my gloves, then closed the door.”

“You always carry gloves and your license?” the cop asked.

“Yes.”

’Who was the man in here that tried to pick up the glass?”

“I can identify him, but I don’t know his name.”

“Were there any women in the restroom?” the cop asked.

“Yes, a brunettete with short hair in a red dress and a redhead in a black dress. Her hair was up on her head.”

“Did you get names?”

“The brunette was Marci Walker and the redhead was Bonnie Evans.”

“I wish the detectives were as thorough as you are.”

I grinned at him. “My partner’s an ex-cop.“′

“Can you hang around for a while?”

“You want me to?” I asked.

“Yeah. But you can go back out to the party for now.”

“It isn’t a party. It was a fundraiser for the gallery.”

“Ok.”

I left the restroom and went back to our table. Luke and David and their wives were gone. I looked at Dani, who had two empty martini glasses in front of her. “Was I gone that long?”

“No. After I was deserted, I felt like there wasn’t anything else to do. Everybody left.”

“Can’t say I blame them. People tend to leave when somebody’s murdered. I’m sure the police stopped them at the door to question them and get their names.”

“What did she look like?”

“Blonde hair, white dress.”

“Oh, God. That’s Linda Sylvester. How did she die? I mean how was she killed?”

“Who was Linda Sylvester?” I asked her.

“One of the organizers of this fundraiser. You said she was murdered. How?”

“Dani, I don’t think you want to know.”

“Yes, I do. I’m not some fragile flower, Rick. If I didn’t want to know I wouldn’t ask.”

Alright. She insisted. “Somebody cut her throat.” She never said anything, but she turned a shade of green I hadn’t seen before.

“Do you . . . do you have to stay?”

“The police asked me to.” We sat there in silence for a few minutes, but the next time I looked at her tears were running down her face. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I, uh, well . . . could you?”

I stood up. “Stay here. I’ll go ask if they mind. I can come back.”

I went back to the restroom. The cop I’d talked to was still there; the coroner had just arrived. “I have a date that just turned several shades of green and she’d like me to take her home. I can come back if you want me to.”

“No, go ahead Mr. Simon. Will you be at your office tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“We can reach you there if we need to.”

“Thank you, officer.”

I went back to the table to get Dani. “My place or yours?” I asked her.

“Mine, please.” I wasn’t surprised. When someone you know is murdered, it tends to ruin the evening. I got her in the car outside and drove to her place. We didn’t talk on the way home, and I opened her door when I got her inside.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I want you to, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Dani, there are times I have to handle murders. This is one of them. Is it going to be difficult for you to deal with what I do for a living?”

She sat down on the couch, and I sat down next to her and took her hand in mine. “I’d like to tell you no, Rick. I really enjoy spending time with you. But right now I just don’t know. Can you give me a couple of days to think about it?”

“Sure. When you’ve decided what you want, call me so we can deal with it. Please don’t leave me hanging. I think you know how I feel about you. I’ll be waiting.” I kissed the back of her hand, then got up and left. The last thing I’d do is push her for a decision right now. But it wasn’t easy, considering I might have given the perfect woman an opportunity to walk out of my life.