Blood Dahlia - A Thriller (Sarah King Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF

maybe have a few drinks before starting her shift.
    Pink’s was as upscale as bars went, and the theme—the color pink—was on prominent display everywhere. From the neon sign out front , to the suit coats the bouncers had to wear, to the name tags the bartenders displayed on their chests. At first, the place seemed glitzy to her, something like an old Hollywood Playboy party or something. But night after night of Pink’s wore on Sarah, and she realized how sensitive she was to her environment. She had been trying for the past year, unsuccessfully, to land a job that involved less interaction with other people but paid relatively the same. The problem was that bartenders could clear two hundred fifty bucks a night for five hours of work. No other jobs she could get without an education offered anywhere near that.
    The bouncer, a large black man with tattoos on his neck, smiled when he saw her. “How are ya, Sarah?”
    “Good, Catcher. How you been?”
    “Can’t complain.” He stepped aside, letting her enter. “Bit early, ain’t it?”
    “Thought I’d catch up on some side work.”
    “I bet.”
    Sarah knew they called him Catcher because he’d played for the Mets as a relief catcher nearly a decade ago. Though he said he hated the nickname, she knew he secretly liked it. His career had ended because of an injury, not because it’d run its course, and he always regretted not being able to play longer. She knew all this about him in a fraction of a second the first time she met him.
    Though evening had fallen, it wasn’t yet dark , and the dimming sunlight coming through the bar’s windows gave her an eerie feeling. Something about being in bars in the middle of the day didn’t sit well with her.
    “Hey,” she said, coming behind the bar. The woman back there, Jeannie, was stocking the liquor bottles in front of a large mirror.
    “Hey yourself. What’re you doing here so early?”
    “Oh, just bored. Didn’t have anything else to do.”
    Sarah lifted a bottle of Jose Cuervo and poured herself a shot, filling the glass to the brim. She swallowed it, enjoying the warmth of the liquid down her throat and into her belly. She poured another shot and took it with her eyes closed. When she opened them, Jeannie was staring.
    “What?” Sarah said.
    “You know what. Your shift hasn’t even started.”
    Sarah took one more shot and then slapped her hands together and hooted like a frat boy. She grabbed Jeannie’s hands and spun her around. “Don’t be such a grump. Our job is to party.”
    Jeannie kept a stern face for only a few moments and then began dancing with her behind the bar. Sarah spun her and dipped, their faces nearly touching, before she pulled her back up and began helping her stock.
     
     
    The night wore on , and the bar grew packed. The music was so loud sometimes she’d have to wear earplugs, but not tonight. Tonight, she wanted to feel it right down to her bones.
    The drinks were poured quickly. Despite the fact that she’d probably had six or seven shots in the past four hours, Sarah was really good at her job. At least she thought so.
    A party of four guys was at the end of the bar , and with each round they bought they gave her a twenty-dollar tip. One of the men was handsome, his muscles bulging underneath a gray V-neck shirt. His hair was styled, and his eyes glimmered when the roving strobe lights hit them in just the right way. He’d been smiling at Sarah the entire night.
    “Hi,” he shouted over the music as she poured them another round.
    “Can I touch your hair?” she shouted back.
    He nodded. She tapped it. It was hard, almost immobile from all the product he had in it.
    “You’d look better with dry hair. Watch.”
    She ran her hands through his hair, mussing it up. The wet look faded , and his hair wasn’t up as high. It looked naturally styled now rather than plastered in place. She reached down and washed her hands in a sink underneath the bar.
    “How is it?”