Val gritted his teeth but didn’t reply. He
just wrapped the towel over his longish wet hair and ruffled it dry. When he
pulled it off, Mr. Cop-out had his eyes glued to Val’s package. The scrutiny
made said package want to stand up and show off.
The cop cleared his throat. “I’m Detective
Andrew Preston with the NYPD. I’m investigating a homicide related to one of
the members of this company. Your director said all of you dancers are to
answer questions before leaving today. It doesn’t look like you’re planning to
make yourself subject to those instructions.”
Val plopped his naked butt on the bench
and let his cock drape down between his legs. Get a good look there, Copo. “To quote an old movie, I don’t
consider myself subject to much at all, Detective, but in fact, I didn’t get
those instructions since I was
meeting with the director of the company at the time they were likely being
given.”
“I see.”
“And I have every intention of leaving
here quickly and diving to the bottom of a vodka bottle shortly thereafter, so
if you’ve got questions, ask them fast.”
Preston raised a perfectly shaped dark eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t have thought an athlete would indulge quite so freely.”
“Yeah, well, when assholes throw their
weight around and take what’s rightfully mine, I figure I’ve earned a little
fucking indulgence.” He blew out his breath. “Sorry. Ask your questions.”
Preston carefully removed a notebook and a
pen from his breast pocket.
Val grinned. “You’re kidding? I feel like
I’ve gone back in time to some black and white TV show where you’re going to
say—”
“Just the facts, sir.”
Val’s eyes flashed to Preston’s. He
couldn’t be serious—then Val smiled. The cop’s light green eyes danced with a
very charming mischief.
“So you get that a lot.”
“Yes. I’m afraid my penchant for
organization receives mixed reviews.”
Val smiled. Cute. “Okay. Shoot there, Sherlock.”
“How well did you know Donald Fornazy?”
“Not at all, I’m afraid. Not even his
name. We had a couple scenes together. Nothing much.”
“Is that unusual, not to know someone in
your own company?”
Val felt the crease pop between his brows.
“Not really. There are a lot of dancers here. I’m not a member of the corps and
I don’t live here. Most of my friends aren’t members of the company.” He
shrugged. “The young man was neither a great enough dancer for me to notice him
professionally, nor enough my type to notice him personally.”
That got a rise out of both Preston’s
eyebrows.
Val shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m not
trying to make light of this man’s murder. I’m just in a rotten mood. Don’t
mind me.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“It doesn’t relate to your case.”
Preston gazed at him for a long second,
then looked down at his notebook. “Do you have any idea why someone would want
to kill him?”
“Can’t imagine. I heard that some other dancers
have been killed, which is pretty damned shocking. Hell, we’re society’s
frippery. Spangles on the ass cheeks of civilization. Hardly a threat to
anyone.”
