The Cop And The Chorus Girl

Flynn telephoned Sergeant Dominick Kello, currently in charge of the Torrano investigation within the Organized Crime Unit of the N.Y.P.D. Flynn got through to the sergeant quickly and summarized his situation.

Sergeant Kello could hardly believe their good fortune. “This is the best break we’ve had in months!”

“I’m not so sure,” Flynn began. “What if I jeopardize the case?”

“What case? We haven’t got a case! Maybe you’ll finally get something we can use!”

“But she seems pretty innocent to me—”

“This is great!” crowed the sergeant, not hearing a word Flynn was saying. He covered the receiver, no doubt jubilantly announcing the news to the rest of the squad room. Flynn could hear the excited cheers and catcalls of his fellow cops as they heard where he was. Then the sergeant came back on the line. “Stick as close as you can, Flynn. Be her bodyguard, her chauffeur, her frigging costume changer if you have to!”

“I think that would be a very bad idea.”

“It’s a damn brilliant idea! Why are you so uptight?”

“Because she’s—”

Again the sergeant’s voice cut across his. “Listen, Flynn. Do you have any idea how many guys would kill for this assignment? All you have to do is hang around a beautiful woman!”

An extremely attractive woman, Flynn thought, clenching his jaw. Did Sergeant Kello have any idea how difficult it might be to simply think straight in the presence of somebody as sexy as Dixie Davis?

“Just stay there,” his boss commanded. “Do whatever you have to do to get us some information we can use to nail Torrano. Got that, Flynn? Whatever you have to do!”

Three

Dixie emerged from her bedroom wearing her huge wig again, along with a pair of fire-engine red cowboy boots, her tight blue jeans and a mouth-watering T-shirt. She carried a slouchy canvas bag over her shoulder and twirled a pair of cactus-shaped sunglasses in one hand.

Flynn put down the newspaper he’d been pretending to read after snooping through her suite. He had told himself he’d better snoop to keep himself from peeking through her bedroom keyhole.

At once, he noticed she was ready to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the theater, of course.”

He sat up straight. “The what?”

“I’ve got a show to do!”

Flynn scrambled up from the sofa. “What do you mean, a show? This was supposed to be your wedding day!”

“I’m the star of The Flatfoot and the Floozie,” she reminded him simply. “I’ve got seven shows a week—including matinees on Wednesday and Sunday. Unless I’m dying, I have to go to the theater.”

“But—but—” Flynn found himself sputtering with amazement. “I thought you wanted to hide from Joey Torrano! How can you do that on a Broadway stage?”

“That’s your job,” she said with a laugh. “You’re my new bodyguard, remember?”

“You can’t possibly—I don’t believe—”

But Dixie whirled away from him in a flounce of blond wig. Flynn tailed her to the door, where she checked her appearance one more time in the gilded mirror that hung there. Her reflection was enough to take a strong man’s breath away.

She tugged an imaginary stray eyelash straight, then met Flynn’s goggling gaze in the mirror. She smiled. “Well, how do I look?”

“You’re not exactly going to blend into the scenery while sneaking out of the hotel.”

“Is that a compliment?” She headed for the door and seconds later stepped into the elevator.

“A statement of fact.” Flynn got in the elevator, too. “You’re not the kind of woman anyone can ignore.”

“Thanks—I think. But don’t worry. I’ve got a cab waiting in the alley outside the hotel kitchen. Nobody will see me leave. Will you come along?”

“That’s my new job, right?”

“Yes—if you still want it.”

“I just don’t think running around the city is a very good idea.”

“People are counting on me. Tonight’s performance is sold out.”

“Don’t you have an understudy?”

“I am the understudy,” she reminded him. “Joey replaced the original star with me. We haven’t had time to train somebody else. I have to go on.”

“This seems like a crazy way to avoid the man you stood up at the church today.”

“I know I can’t avoid him forever. But I’m going to try until I can get a few things settled at the theater.” As the elevator cruised to a stop in the basement, she shouldered her canvas bag again. “Ready?”

The elevator swished open, depositing Dixie and Flynn in the midst of the hotel’s vast, bustling kitchen. The white-coated staff was deeply involved in preparing for the dinner hour, so hardly anyone looked up from their work to take notice of the two strangers slipping through their midst. But just as they neared the door, a shout went up and suddenly the whole kitchen was asking for autographs and pressing close.

Flynn fended off the mob and let Dixie slip out the door. She waved and called hello to everyone, but moments later Dixie was sliding across the back seat of a waiting taxi. Flynn climbed in after her.

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