Gypsy

Standing among the press of gawkers who always seem to gather at crime scenes, all of them thinking better them than me; one pair of emerald eyes watched the activity of the police as they walked around, appearing to have no purpose other than to distract the on-lookers from the victim’s sheet draped body. A light drizzle of rain fell from the night sky, shimmering in the light of the nearly full moon and coating everything in fine dew.

She watched him crouch down by the body, lifting the sheet that clung damply to the cold flesh he looked up at the others standing nearby, motioning angrily at the body he dropped and sheet and stood. Stepping toward a plain clothes officer, he jabbed his finger into the man’s chest to punctuate each bitten off word, forcing the officer backward. With a final word he turned and stormed away, the wet leather of his jacket giving off steam from the heat of the body within.

She watched the exchange and her gaze followed his progress across the parking lot and into the black Camero, its tires slipping for a moment on the slick pavement before the rubber got traction and launched the car into the night. She made her way through the crowd, having to push people aside with her elbows; and she walked up the street in the direction the car had gone.

At midnight on a Thursday the streets were relatively deserted, making it easier to follow the tracks left by the Camero. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she kept her eyes on the tire tracks and walked into the wind, squinting again the swirling drizzle. After several blocks she spotted the car parked at an angle in front of a small bar, the red and blue neon signs reflecting on the black paint; and she couldn’t help but smile. That didn’t take long she thought, crossing the street and pushing the thin door open. Pausing a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior, she scanned the occupant’s faces until her gaze locked on the hunched, leather clad shoulders in the far corner.

Pausing on her way by, she spoke softly to the tall, thin man behind the bar and waited while he poured two drinks and set them in front of her. Dropping a twenty on the sticky wooden bar, she took the glasses and walked casually across the room, her hips swaying to the rhythm of Michael Buble’s version of Moondance on the jukebox.

Setting the glass of whiskey down in front of him brought his head up suddenly and he spun around, angry brown eyes meeting the calm green of hers as she sank into the chair opposite him. He stared at her, the dew drops on her lashes and in her dark red hair catching the neon light like tiny prisms, giving the effect of jewels. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and a thin sheen of dampness clung to her skin like she’d just emerged from a sauna. His gaze roamed down her long neck to the deep V of her white button down shirt, the thin cotton material clinging to her and the sight of it brought his mind back to the sheet draped victim he’d seen only half an hour ago and his eye brows came together in a scowl.

“Go away. I’m in no mood for a quickie in the bathroom.” He snapped. Becoming even more irritated when she smiled at him, stirring the ice cubes around in her own glass with the tip of one finger. He watched as she raised that finger to her mouth and wrapped her lips around if, sucking the whiskey off her skin.

“I said, go away. I don’t have the extra cash anyway.” His voice was a deep growl and the sound of his frustration made her smile even wider. Rising from her seat, she placed her hands flat on the table and leaned toward him, forcing him to lean back to meet her eyes.

“Dance with me.” Her husky voice was like warm honey and several heads turned. The song on the jukebox ended and she walked over to it, dropping a quarter into the slot and making her selection. Turning back, her eyes made it clear that she was not going to leave him alone until she got her way. Frank Sinatra’s voice crooned out The Way You Look Tonight as she moved back toward him, stopping right in front of him and reaching down to push the heavy leather coat off of his broad shoulders.

His breath was coming too fast and he tried to slow it down, taking a deep lungful of air and letting it out slowly as she stood in front of him. Rising to his feet he expected her to step back but she stayed firmly planted and his body bumped hers. Placing one arm around her waist he took her hand as she wrapped her arm across his shoulders and they began moving together. He could feel all the eyes in the bar on them and normally he would have hated that feeling, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in him to care. Her eyes never left his and neither of them spoke; only the music and the feel of their bodies pressed together existed and the three minute song seemed to go on and on. The silence that fell when the song ended was like being doused in cold water and he tried to step away but she refused to release him, her arm holding him against her while she reached into her shirt pocket and withdrew a business card. Holding it up for him to see, she slid it into his back pocket as she leaned into him, pressing her lips to his in a chaste kiss.

Leaning back she looked into his eyes and saw the confusion there and whispered against his ear, “I know who killed her.” He jerked away as though she had burned him. Without a single look back she made her way across the bar and out the door before he could think again and grabbing his coat he ran after her. Erupting through the front door into the steady rain that had started to fall, he scanned the area and found no trace of her.

Raking his fingers through his hair he sighed and unlocked his car, dropping in behind the wheel. Digging in his back pocket he pulled out the card that she had given him, staring at the dark red lettering which read Gypsy. Starting the car, he put it in gear and drove toward home; unaware of the green eyes that watched from the shadows.