Dead on the Dance Floor (40 page)

She didn't dare. She hit the plunger. He ducked, swearing, coughing, choking, wheezing.

But she'd missed his eyes. The gagging fumes of the spray filled the area, and she was trapped, too. Then he was flying toward her. They struggled, but in the end, he had her.

“Let her go. Now.”

The voice stunned both of them. Shannon found herself thrust in front of Lopez, coughing from the spray herself, his gun against her temple. Her eyes watered. She blinked and saw that Quinn had come, that he had followed the hallway and found the two of them.

“Let her go, Lopez. Now. I don't want to shoot you. The cops are on the way, and I want you to go to trial. I don't know why you killed Nell Durken, but her husband doesn't deserve a death sentence for what you did.”

“You don't know the half of it, buddy. You don't know the half. But the cops aren't here yet. And you're not a cop, just a fuck-up P.I. Get out of the way. I get out of here, and I throw her back to you. That's the way it goes.”

Quinn stood his ground, his gun level on Lopez. “Nice little place you've got here, but you'll never get her up the stairs, so it's kind of a trap, isn't it?”

“Not when you get out of the way.”

“You'll hear the sirens any minute.”

“That's why you'd better move. I'll kill her. And she's such a pretty little thing, huh? I could have taken her for a nice ride. You know, she turned me down all the time. Since she was such a good cover, I had to just smile and take it. But then she went off and slept with a prick like you. Now move!”

Quinn shifted a little.

“Funny thing is, Lopez, I almost thought she was in on it. You know, I came here, saw that false door…you should have thought to close it. Might have taken me and the cops ages to find it. Too bad you didn't think of that.”

“Put the gun down and let me out of here.”

Shannon was afraid she was going to drop, whether he let her go or not. Her knees were rubber and the pepper spray was burning her eyes. On top of that, she couldn't breathe.

And still, Quinn was standing there.

“I'll shoot her right now!”

“All right, all right, I'm going to put it down.”

He started to lower his weapon. Shannon felt the slightest easing of Lopez's hold, but the barrel of the gun was still against her skull.

“Asshole!” Lopez said. “You
both
have to die.”

He was going to pull the trigger. This was it. Not even time for her life to flash before her eyes.

The sound of the gunshot was deafening in the small space.

She felt nothing….

Behind her, Lopez crumpled, dragging her to the ground. Only then did she begin to scream when she saw the gaping bullet hole in his head.

She vaguely heard the sirens. Then she felt Quinn's arms around her, heard his voice as if from far, far away.

“Come on, it's over. The cops are here. They'll take it from here.”

She couldn't rise on her own; her knees were too wobbly.

But his arms were around her.

And he was going to lead her from the shadows into the light.

“B
ut why did he kill Lara?” Ben demanded.

They were down in Key Largo, guests at Quinn's place, a beautiful home with a pool, right on the water, where he could dock the
Twisted Time.

There was nothing ostentatious about it, and Shannon loved it. There were three bedrooms; one converted into an office, but it still had a futon that could sleep two. Since the police had requested that the entire studio building be closed for a few days, Gordon had decided that Ella could leave all messages for their students—in case they didn't quite get the concept of crime tape—and since they weren't working, and the entire situation was so traumatic, they should bond together. Thus, these days in the Keys.

Sunday had become something of a blur, with police pouring through the building, Shannon answering the same questions over and over again, Marnie and Sam appearing, first distraught, then relieved, Doug showing up with a pale Jane, freshly out of the hospital, in tow. Shannon had accepted drops for her eyes from the emergency personnel who had arrived but refused the suggestion she be looked at in a hospital. She had insisted she was fine.

Quinn was actually in worse shape. He'd said something about being sorry he'd had to kill Lopez, because there would be so many questions to be answered. She had remembered that he had followed her,
suspected her,
and even though he had saved her life, something had come over her when he bemoaned the death of the man who had been about to kill her, and she had hit him. She had rued the instinctive reaction immediately, but she had done it, and apparently she had a fairly decent hook, because even on Monday, he was still rubbing his jaw. That hadn't, however, interfered with Sunday night, when she had once again slept on the
Twisted Time,
while Sam stayed with Marnie at Shannon's house. That night, more than ever, she had needed to feel alive, and he had been pleased to help her explore every sensation. And, of course, they had talked and talked, before being awakened early the next morning, when Gordon had called with his idea of a studio-group getaway. Quinn had politely suggested his place in the Keys, not the least bit worried about fraternization, and now there they all were.

They headed south and all went out on the boat together. Doug, Ben and Quinn went diving, while Gordon, Sam, Marnie and Rhianna did some fishing, and Shannon mainly lounged around, with Justin, Ella and Jane joining her. Justin worked on his tan and Jane just tried to relax and follow doctor's orders.

On Monday night, they sat around in Quinn's living room, eating dinner. Drapes in the back opened to the pool area, the dock and the bay, a breeze drifted in, along with the smell of the barbecue, and it really did feel like a vacation. Until they started talking and Ben voiced his confusion.

Quinn glanced at Shannon. “Maybe she got too close to him, or maybe she knew too much.”

“But…somehow he managed to drug her at the competition. I mean, he got a hold of prescription drugs to do in two of his victims, and he shot the other two women up with heroin. And,” he added, gazing at Doug, “if I've got this right, he also shot Manuel Taylor. Why Taylor?”

“He definitely killed Taylor,” Doug said, looking at Quinn.

“Ballistics came back with a positive match. They found the gun that killed Manuel Taylor when they searched Lopez's apartment, and his prints were all over it,” he told them. “I imagine Gabriel was afraid Manuel would remember that Gabe had tipped him to make sure Lara got the drink he'd prepared especially for her.” He shook his head. “I'm sorry as hell I didn't examine the whole night more thoroughly with Manuel when I talked to him. I was so into the concept that he had told Shannon she was next that it didn't occur to me that he might know more. Anyway, I think Gabe panicked when it came to Manuel, so he shot him.”

“And he killed Nell Durken, too?” Ben said, and shook his head, giving Quinn a questioning stare.

“So it seems. At least, Art Durken's attorney is counting on the evidence to get him out of jail,” Doug told them.

“But what if Art Durken
did
kill her? What if the murders weren't related? It all seems kind of…I don't know. Weird,” Ben persisted.

“Ben,” Sam said. “It's over. Let it be.”

“I'll bet Lara was having an affair with Gabe Lopez,” Gordon said, looking around the room.”

“She hadn't been around in months,” Ella protested.

“Okay, then maybe…he wanted to start something with her, so he talked to her about it, but she turned him down. He didn't like being turned down. He played the charmer, but he hated Shannon for turning him down, right?” Jane said.

“So he said,” Quinn agreed.

“We're supposed to be bonding, not rehashing this whole thing,” Gordon moaned.

“I'm not rehashing,” Ben said. “I'm making sure I've got it all straight in my mind. Okay, so maybe that poor little hooker, Sally Grant, scored drugs off Lopez and somehow saw the secret room, so she had to die. Sonya, he probably met in another club, or on the beach, or somewhere, but she, too, was into getting high, found out too much and had to die. Lara wasn't a likely candidate for an overdose of heroin, but…he already knew what he was doing because of Nell Durken. He was probably having an affair with her, then got tired of her or something and decided to kill her. He'd gotten away with killing her by prescription and seeing it nailed on the husband, so he figured he'd do the same thing with Lara. And since she was wearing gloves…it was logical that there were no prints on the bottle. She'd die in front of hundreds of people. No murder, no crime.”

“As much as we can figure,” Quinn said, “that's about the picture.”

“And Manuel,” Gordon added dryly. “Manuel was executed purely for purposes of insurance.”

“So it appears,” Doug said.

Gordon groaned. “My business is going to be in the toilet.”

“Gordon, he owned the club, not the studio,” Shannon protested.

“Yes, but the club will go right to hell now,” Gordon argued.

“Maybe not. Someone else will want to own it—it will have a real reputation now,” Sam said. “You know how people love a little bit of the illicit in life.”

“It all remains to be seen,” Shannon said.

Ben stared across the room at her moodily. “He almost killed you, Shannon.” He shook his head. “In retrospect…he was always watching you. I think he was worried for a while that you thought something was going on.”

She shook her head. “I didn't think anything at all—until Lara died, and then…there was the noise. When he was coming and going through the secret door. Too bad for him that he didn't come and go more often from his apartment. I'd never have known.”

“The point,” Doug said, “was that his apartment and the club itself were free of drugs, just as clean as most of his employees believed with their whole hearts.”

“Most? You think other people were in on it?” Rhianna said worriedly.

“Maybe,” Doug said. “But both homicide and narcotics are on it. They'll find whatever contacts he had.”

“Okay, okay, we're bonding here,” Gordon said. “Please, let's watch a movie or something. Quinn, you got any good movies?”

Dinner was cleaned up, popcorn was made, and they settled on
The Lord of the Rings
on the wide-screen TV in the living room.

Shannon was glad when Quinn tapped her on the shoulder and they slipped away to his room. She had thought it would be the hardest thing in the world to accept a relationship again, to really live in one. But it wasn't. It was easy.

The easiest thing in the world just to be with him, and the most exciting thing in the world just to know that they could slip away and make love.

But late that night Shannon awoke to find Quinn staring up at the ceiling. He started when she stroked his cheek.

“What is it?”

“I don't know. Don't you dare hit me again, but I really wish I hadn't had to kill Lopez. There's too much that's still going to be up to a jury. Did Lopez kill Nell—or did Art do it?”

“There will be the shadow of a doubt now,” Shannon said. There was no lie to tell Quinn, and she knew that his work on behalf of Nell Durken still haunted him.

“Remember how he said, ‘You don't know the half of it'?”

She nodded. “I remember everything he said.”

“Well, that still bugs me. I don't know the half of it. And I hate like hell to guess.”

She was quiet for a minute. “I guess there are some things that will never be solved. There
is
one thing, though.”

“And what's that?”

“You saved my life and I'm eternally grateful.”

“I'm not so sure. You might have saved mine.”

“Because maybe one day you'll be able to cha-cha?”

“Because I've learned that I can't solve everything, but that I can be the best possible person for someone I really love.”

She smiled and rolled into his arms, and, for a while, at least, she was certain she made him forget the questions that still plagued him.

 

“Dear, dear, dear!”

Christie was in the studio a week later, donating an hour of her time to help Marnie. “You're trying to step and turn all in one. They're individual movements. You need to learn to focus if you do want to do all these high-speed turns. Break it down. Step, turn. Heel lead. Step, turn.”

Marnie caught Shannon's eye and grimaced. “Dear, dear, dear!” she mouthed.

“Keep working,” Shannon ordered. She wondered suddenly how anyone could have allowed a kid like Marnie to live out on the streets, failing to take care of her when she was so young and sweet. But it took all kinds. She was learning that lesson well.

She was awfully grateful to Marnie, too. Quinn, not finding her at home that Sunday, was coming to the studio anyway. But thanks to Marnie recognizing the picture of Sonya Miller, he had come prepared, gun loaded. She had also been able to connect Sonya to both the building, and Gabriel Lopez, since she had witnessed Sonya coming up the back steps.

Shannon watched the pair for a minute, grinned, and headed for her office. Ella had just told her that Quinn was on the phone for her.

She grinned. He was taking his mom out to dinner. He had been feeling really guilty because lately he'd been lax about seeing her or even calling her. Tonight he was going to atone. Doug had explained the family situation to Shannon. Their father was dead, but they had a terrific mother, one who didn't nag but
did
worry. And Quinn had a habit of closing off when he was disturbed or busy, which only worried her more.

“What kind of a son are you? I haven't even met your mom yet—and you've competed!” she had told Doug.

“I had to be a little more confident first,” he'd said. “But now…she's going to love it. You'll be surprised. She can dance. Wait until you see her,” he had told her with pride.

Shannon picked up the phone in her office. “Hi. So where are you taking her?”

“A new place in North Miami. I probably won't make it back until late. Hey, this restaurant is supposed to be gourmet Scottish cuisine. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“No, but it sounds interesting. Steal a menu if you can.”

“I'm an ex-cop. I can't steal anything.”

She laughed. “Hey, um, do I get to meet Mom soon?”

“Oh, yeah. She's already been hearing all about you.”

Shannon smiled. “Hey, listen, have a great dinner.”

“Thanks. See you later.”

She hung up. When she walked back out, the crowd was beginning to thin. It was close to time for her advanced group, but there were few private lessons on a Monday night. It seemed that Monday was kind of a blah day, no matter what business you were in.

Blah…

Actually, she thought, she enjoyed feeling that there could be blah days again. Or could there? Quinn, she knew, was still uncomfortable about the death of Gabriel Lopez. There was something unfinished, something that didn't quite fit altogether.

You don't know the half of it.

She walked back to the kitchen and poked through the refrigerator. Ben walked back to join her. “What're you up to?”

Sam, with no more classes, had driven Marnie home. Jane had left early, as well. She wasn't working with her students again yet, but she couldn't quite stay away from the studio. Tonight, however, Doug had remained behind. Though he loyally claimed that he wasn't going to dance with anyone but Jane at the Gator Gala, he was taking lessons with Shannon and Rhianna, and not missing any of the group classes. Katarina and David were in, and Richard Long was there, though Mina had gone home, tired from the onslaught of childhood injuries, which always seemed to multiply after a weekend. Gordon had told her earlier that he was leaving by eight because he was the owner and he had good management, so he, too, was gone.