Bombshell Dolly Nail

"It's good to see you again, Dolly. Are you stalking me, by chance?" he asked with a smirk.

"You wish. It's good to see you too," I said and pulled him into my arms. He smelled heavenly as usual.

"Sorry about Rose," he whispered against my ear as he returned my hug.

"Me too. When did you last see her?" I asked as I drew away from him.

"In March. I did a few shows with her at the Dahlia. She was happy and full of life as usual. It's hard to believe someone cut her up like that," he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, the paper didn't hold back on the details," I grumbled.

"No kidding. Who writes that shit?"

"Greg Price. One of the most graceless reporters I have ever met. I'd love to punch him in the face. Chief Brooks has warned him multiple times about his tasteless descriptions of victims. Rose didn't deserve such a horrible end or to have her story told like that. Was anyone giving Rose trouble when you were working with her? Anything you can remember would be helpful."

"The only trouble I can recall was her fight with a fellow dancer after our last show. Patricia DuPont was bitching at Rose for sleeping with her boyfriend. Rose denied it and told her off. I assumed that was the end of it."

"Patricia DuPont... she works here now, doesn't she?"

"She does. We're not friends. I only see her during rehearsals. Sissy can tell you more. Speaking of rehearsals, I need to go to mine. It was wonderful seeing you, Dolly. Take care," he said as he leaned in and gave me a soft kiss on the mouth.

"Thanks, Danny. Don't be a stranger."

"Is that an invitation?" he grinned.

"Catch me on the right day, and it is."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said before he hurried from the room.

My interview with Sissy was troubling. She brought out a stack of creepy letters someone had sent to her over the past two months. They began as detailed sex fantasies about her and regressed to petty threats if she didn't stop fucking her many suitors. The warnings in the letters were cryptic and vague up until Rose's murder.

"I've dealt with creeps before, but the last letter scared me. That's what I wanted to show you, Miss Nail. This one arrived yesterday, and it made a reference to Rose's murder. I'm sure of it. It says, 'A thornless rose has satisfied my many thirsts. You're safe for now, my darling Sissy,'" she read with her brow creased.

It made my skin crawl. We read over all the letters together, hoping to find some clue to their origins. Each was typed on a plain white sheet of paper and sent to the theater in a plain envelope with Sissy's name typed on it. Anyone could have sent them. I asked her the same questions I had been asking everyone else about Rose. Sissy gave me a list of all the men she had slept with over the past three months. It wasn't as long as I expected, but some of the names shocked me. Harry Coleman was at the top of the list, and Lenard Coleman was at the bottom.

"You fucked both of the Coleman brothers?" I asked with wide eyes.

She nodded guiltily.

"I had a short fling with Harry in March. He got bored with me and stopped calling after three dates. Lenard started calling me to the hotel in May. I see him about twice a month now."

"Have you seen him since the murder?"

"No. I know what you're thinking. I honestly doubt a Coleman brother would send me letters like this. It's not their style."

"I figured that, but they might hire someone to torment you. Maybe Harry doesn't like you screwing with Lenard. Maybe he's jealous."

"Harry's not the jealous type," Sissy declared as if she knew it for a fact.

I knew Harry was a break-your-arm or bust-your-kneecap kind of man, but I knew nothing about his intimate endeavors.

"What makes you think he's not a jealous type?"

"Harry was always kind to me and the other girls he dated. We were a fun distraction for him. He doesn't fall in love with every pretty face he sleeps with. From what I've seen, he respects women. Harry would beat the snot out of a man that disrespected a lady while he was around. He's also protective of Lenard. I'm not confirming anything, but I heard he killed a man for threatening his little brother."

"That doesn't surprise me. I have an interview with Harry tomorrow. Your words have calmed my anxiety a little. I want you to be careful when you go out alone, and be careful who you invite into your bed until I catch the rat that gutted Rose"

"What about Danny? Is he safe?"

I burst out laughing at that question.

"Besides being a man-whore, he's safe. He would faint at the sight of a paper cut."

Chapter 5: Loose Connections

Upon my return to the office, Ducky Jacobs, Janice's longtime boyfriend, greeted me with a smile. He was reclined in her chair with his feet on the edge of the desk. That meant Janice had stepped out to pick up lunch while she had someone to watch the office. Ducky was a handsome, lanky fellow with classic New York charm. He had big gray eyes and messy blond hair that peeked out from under his newsboy cap. He worked as an assistant editor in the print room at the biggest newspaper in town. He often had ink stains on his hands and clothes.

"Good afternoon, Dolly," he announced as he lifted his gray cap to me.

"Hey, Ducky. What's for lunch?" I asked as I dropped my purse on Janice's desk and reclined on the sofa against the back wall. I was tired and hungry after my coffee-fueled morning.

"Chicken pot pies from the new bakery on the corner. I had one last week, and it was heavenly. How are you doing, Dolly? I'm damn sorry about Rose. I read about her murder the morning after it happened. It was a kick in the stomach, for sure. She ate lunch with us less than two weeks ago. I took the article to the boss and complained about Price," he grumbled as he straightened up and dropped his hat on the desk.

I watched as he vigorously scratched his scalp. He did that when he was angry or disgusted.

"Greg Price has been on my shit-list for a while. His tasteless descriptions of Rose earned him a future visit from me."

"That's another reason why I stopped by today, Dolly. I wanted you to see something. I swiped them from Greg's office. He wasn't in when I stopped by to cuss at him about the article. I shimmied open the lock on his door and got in, just like you taught me, and I found some dirt on him," he said as he picked up a folder and used his long arm to pass it to me on the couch.

Flipping the folder open, my stomach lurched at what I saw. Greg had taken provocative photographs of Rose as she lay gutted at the Dahlia. The first one was angled over her head. It showed a close-up of her lips and the silhouettes of her breasts in the background. Her breasts were out of focus since her lips and chin were in focus. The drop of blood on her chin was the only hint of the real nature of the photo. The second photo was a close-up shot of her ribs and left breast. Again, only a splattering of blood on her side hinted at the horror of what wasn't shown in the picture. The next photo was taken close to her thigh at an angle that showed the rest of her beautiful body out of focus. He was purposely avoiding revealing her identity, but anyone that knew Rose would recognize the little mole on her chin. The pictures were morbid and beautiful, and Greg Price likely had plans for them.

"That piece of shit," I growled.

Ducky watched as I stood, slammed the photos on the desk, and began pacing the room like an angry bull.

"Dolly, calm down. Don't do anything crazy before lunch," Ducky said in a soothing tone. Janice had likely told him I was MIA for three days after Rose's murder.

"I won't, Ducky. I just need to let off a little steam," I growled as I escaped into my office and slammed the door behind me.

I kept a punching bag in the corner for such occasions. I kicked it hard enough to send it spinning with a thump against the wall, damaging my heel in the process. I punched it three more times before it had a chance to swing back. My knuckles were aching from the violence, and it helped calm me down. I collapsed on the loveseat under the window and put my hands over my eyes. I needed to collect myself and focus on getting justice for Rose, but her murder filled me with rage at every turn.

A soft knock on the door cooled me down a little more. It slowly opened a second later. Ducky stepped in with Janice behind him. The heavenly smell of pie wafted in with them. That helped me regain my composure. I was starving.

"Dolly, can we sit with you and eat?" Janice asked in her sweetest tone.

"Please do," I whispered, fighting back the tears that I rarely let fall.

Ducky pulled two chairs from the main office into the room and set them around my coffee table. We made small talk about the wonderful pies as we devoured them. Food in my stomach and good company helped clear my head. The basic things that I often neglected helped me the most.

"I'm going to meet with Greg Price today," I declared after my pie was gone.

"I can help with that," Ducky offered. "I'll take you to his office and wait outside the door for you. You're not going to kill him, are you?" he asked nervously.

"Maybe. I plan to speak with him first."

"This soon, Dolly? Maybe you should cool off a little more before you go," Janice recommended.

"I can handle it, Janice. The food helped me feel like myself again. I need to jump on this before he profits off those photos."

After lunch, I put on a tight burgundy jacket and skirt with matching heels. It was borderline formal wear. The outfit came with a gorgeous hat of the same color that sported a white satin bow to match my blouse. Janice declared me pretty enough to eat. That was exactly the look I was going for. Greg, like Lenard, obviously enjoyed pretty women, so I would use that to my advantage.

Ducky led me into the news building and up the elevator without a hitch. Price had a nice corner office overlooking the park. It seemed a little too nice for a reporter's salary. That led me to think he was good friends with the big boss. Greg put his name on things that enraged the masses and fueled paper sales. It made him the fall guy if public ire got out of hand, and that position obviously paid well.

Greg Price appeared harmless enough, even handsome without a bulky camera blocking his face. That's how I usually saw him when our paths crossed at crime scenes. He was punching away at his typewriter when I walked into his office. He looked up and smiled before his hazel eyes did an inventory of my long legs, hips, and cleavage. I was sizing him up as well. He looked different without his trench coat and hat. He had shiny brown hair, bulky arms, thick knuckles, and a new scar through his right eyebrow. A quick glance at the photos on the walls revealed his love of boxing and pretty women. His collection of showgirl portraits didn't escape my notice.

"Bombshell Dolly Nail, what brings a gorgeous detective such as yourself to my side of town?" he asked as he stood and approached me.

"Personal business, Mr. Price," I confessed and gave him a firm handshake.

"Please, call me Greg, take a seat. What can I help you with?" he asked as he sat on the corner of his desk.

I sat in the armchair closest to him, giving him an excellent view into the top of my blouse.

"You look like you've been in a fight, Greg. Who marked up your eye?"

"Ah, it's nothing. My weekends are spent boxing more often than not. It's a dangerous hobby. Does the scar make me look mean?" he asked with a grin.

"It does. I'm no stranger to scars. They can make you act mean too. Now, to the purpose of my visit. You covered Rose Mile's murder, didn't you? I read the article and saw the crime scene photos. You implied a deeper knowledge of Rose's personal life all the way down to the discarded lingerie around the body. Not to mention the disrespectful way you mentioned her and her past lovers. None of that was needed, but you wrote about it for flair. Did you know Rose personally? Did you visit her in her room at the hotel before she was murdered?"

A subtle scowl darkened his brow as I spoke.

"Ms. Nail, what are you implying with these questions? I'm a journalist. I wrote an in-depth article about a popular showgirl that upset a few people. Is it a felony to mention how obviously slutty she was? Don't blame me for how she lived her life. I would thank her if I could. She helped me set a sales record," he grinned.

"Abandon that mocking tone, or I'll show this to Chief Brooks," I warned and pulled one of his morbid photos of Rose out of my jacket.

His eyes went wide when he realized what I had.

"How the hell did you get that?" he demanded.

"That's irrelevant, but I have plenty of copies. When did you take this photo? Was it before or after the body was discovered?"

Red rage flashed over his face at what I was implying. Even if it wasn't true, he deserved to sweat over it.

"I was doing my job, Ms. Nail. Police were in the room when I took my photos. I'm sorry if I upset you. Those photos are an artistic hobby of mine. My line of work allows me to capture the beautiful parts of an ugly situation. They honor the victim if anything."

"They exploit the victim if anything. I bet they fetch a pretty price on the black market, or do they go straight to a private collector?"

Greg scowled at me for another minute, then he smiled and shook his head.

"You can spout this nonsense all day, Ms. Nail. It won't make any of it true."

"Time will tell. You really like the Ziegfeld Follies, don't you?" I asked, turning my gaze to the portraits by the window.

"Who doesn't? They're gorgeous. You could easily be one of them, Dolly."

"No, I couldn't," I sighed as I rose from my seat and started for the door.

"That's it then? You bitch at me, threaten me, and then leave?" Greg snapped.

"Yes. I consider you a suspect now. I wanted you to know that. You benefit from other people's suffering. You're already a criminal in my mind. I would be happy to see you behind bars. If I find more connections between you and Rose, you will be sleeping in a jail cell by the end of the week, if you're lucky."

"And if I'm not lucky?"

"You'll be full of holes."

I was sure to slam the door behind me so I wouldn't hear his parting threats. My desire to pull my .38 was strong. I needed to leave before I got myself in trouble. Ducky met me at the end of the hall, looking worried.

"I didn't shoot or stab him," I assured him.

"Not yet, at least," he sighed.

"Keep a watch on him for me, Ducky, but don't let him notice you doing it. Greg is a boxer and stout as a boulder. I suspect he has friends in high places."

Ducky nodded and escorted me safely out of the building. A checkered cab returned me to the office, where Janice helped me make notes of everything I learned. Greg Price had darkened my mood and left me angrier than usual. My future interview with Harry Coleman added to my anxiety. A sudden desire to visit Pacey hit me. I doubted he wanted to see me again that day, but I paid him well enough to put up with me.

"Janice, I'm heading out to see Pacey. I'll be back before dark," I called and grabbed my purse.

I opened the office door and gasped to discover Danny standing outside with his hand up. He had been in the process of knocking.

"Hello, Dolly, do you enjoy startling me?" he grinned.

"Danny, you startled me too. Come on in."

I stood aside and admired his handsome figure as he stepped into the office. Janice gave him a big smile and a wink. She was a long-time fan of his shiny black hair and big blue eyes, not to mention his perfect ass.

"Good evening, Janice. It's been a while," he announced.

"It has, Danny. You still tearing up the stage with the Follies?"

"I am. The sheets too," he grinned.

I coughed and cleared my throat, trying hard not to laugh. Danny knew how to brighten my day.

"What brings you here so late, Danny? Do you have a stalker now?" I asked and motioned him towards my office.

"Besides you, nah. I missed you more than anything," he said as he followed after me.

"Really? Do you not have enough pussy and ass at the theater to keep you satisfied?" I chuckled as I locked us in my office.

"Not in your wake," he breathed as he backed me against the door.

His lips found mine, and I melted into his familiar kiss like a shameless hussy. I groaned as his fingers slid into my hair, and his tongue went deep into my mouth. His exhausting passion never disappointed me.

"Mmm, you still taste like you did six years ago," he breathed as he drew away and looked into my eyes. "I was thinking about you while fucking Sissy. Then you magically appeared in her room. I couldn't stop thinking about you after that," he said as he unbuttoned my blouse and pushed it open, revealing my lacy bra.

"I'm glad you think about me sometimes. You're still the best lover I ever had," I confessed and unclasped my bra so he could remove it and my blouse.

"I feel the same about you. You also have the best tits in New York," he whispered as he tossed my clothes to the floor and brought his mouth to my right nipple.

I moaned and smiled as he gently sucked my tit and massaged the inviting flesh around it. Danny's hands were incredibly soft. He gave Lenard a run for his money. They were both great lovers, but Danny appreciated the person along with the body. Lenard only cared about the body.

After lavishing my breasts with attention, he returned to kiss my mouth. I unbuttoned his shirt, and he quickly tossed it and his jacket to the floor. My skirt and undergarments went next, followed by his pants and briefs. The last time I was naked in my office was Danny's fault. He enjoyed fucking there almost as much as the bedroom.

He pulled me over to the loveseat, and we collapsed onto it with me under him. He pulled my leg aside and guided his cock against my wet cunt. He teased his tip into me, making me groan before he plunged inside me. I gasped from the delicious intrusion. Danny's cock was shapely, attractive, normal in girth and length, and the way he used it made my eyes roll back. He knew the best places to apply pressure, and it made a world of difference.

He started slow, pushing the base of his cock hard against my perineum with skilled thrusts. The angle of the fucking forced his tip to push against my bladder. I shuddered with tingles as he watched the pleasure on my face. He slid his hand between us and found my clit. I groaned as he massaged it in a gentle swirling motion with his fingertips. He was a master of rhythm. I assumed years of dancing helped him perfect it.

"You are so fucking good at that," I whispered as I rocked my pelvis, encouraging him to go deeper.

"I'm glad. It gives me an excellent show," he whispered and quickly doubled his thrusting pace.

I gasped and let my head fall back as he jarred my body in his excitement. I panted open-mouthed and aggressively squeezed my tits for his viewing pleasure. I enjoyed it too, obviously.

"You are so beautiful, Dolly," he groaned.

I could feel his cock getting harder, and it was making my cunt twitch.

"Faster, Danny. I'm about to cum," I panted.

"So am I," he gasped.

We peaked at the same time and made a lot of noise in the process. He fucked me like a machine as his cum burst hot inside me. I cried out again and again as he prolonged the incredible orgasm with his manic thrusts. I didn't know how he did it apart from a lot of practice. I squirmed and begged him to stop after a minute of breath-stealing tingles. My clit was painfully sensitive at that point. I knew his cock was too.

"My God, Dolly. You make me wild," he whispered as he relaxed and kissed me.

I loved feeling his sweaty chest against my tits as his spent cock twitched inside me.

"You're naturally wild, Danny," I chuckled as I ran my fingers through his damp hair.