Chapter 5: The Manager
Melissa walked through the backstage area, following the man until they reached a door with the word 'Manager' in bold letters on the front. The man unceremoniously swung the door open, revealing Georgios on the other side.
The bartender sat behind a mahogany desk, now wearing a black suit jacket over his white shit.
"Hello again," he said, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk.
"You're Georgios?" Melissa asked, taking a seat in front of him.
"The one and only," he replied with a smirk.
"Why didn't you tell me that out there?"
"You are the Detective. I'm sure you understand why I might not want everyone who walks in off the street to know who I am," Georgios responded, his eyes never leaving hers. "How can I help you Detective Erikson?"
"We're investigating the death of one of your dancers, Amanda Crichton, also known as Jet, I believe," Melissa said, pulling out a photograph of the deceased from her pocket and placing it on the desk.
Georgios glanced at the photo, his expression unchanging. "This is the first I am hearing of this very sad news Detective. Amanda has not been in to work for about a week."
Melissa studied his face, searching for any sign of deceit. But Georgios' expression remained neutral, his blue eyes steady and unwavering. They were nice eyes, alluring, but evidently dangerous.
"That didn't strike you as odd?" Melissa asked.
"Not really. I assumed she quit. This business is inherently transcient, the girls don't write letters of resignation when they want to leave, they just go. Poof." Georgios snapped his large fingers loudly, making Melissa jump.
"Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt her?" Melissa composed herself.
"No, I don't think so. She was a quiet girl."
"None of your patrons out there that might have gotten infatuated and been rejected?" Melissa pressed, her eyes narrowing.
Georgios stood up calmly and walked over to one side of the room where the wall was obscured by another curtain. He pulled it open to show Melissa that there was not a just wall behind it, but an array of monitors displaying live feeds from various angles of the club.
"I like to think, Detective, that I know everything that goes on in my club," he paused. Melissa watched. "But perhaps you are right. Perhaps I have missed something."
Georgios returned to his large leather office chair. "I will ask around the other girls for you Detective. Maybe they know something I do not."
"I would rather interview these women myself," Melissa insisted, her eyes scanning the screens filled with gourgeous bodies and eager faces.
"That would not be wise, Detective. The type of people thst work for me are unlikely to be so open with a Police Officer as I am. You understand?" Georgios' voice was low, commanding. Melissa felt a shiver run down her spine at the sound of it. She reluctantly nodded.
"We'll need all of your saved footage too. Can you come down to the station tomorrow morning?" Melissa asked, standing up and buttoning her coat.
"Again, I fear you misunderstand the nature of this business. A man in my position cannot be seen to be walking in to a Police Station voluntarily. With a lawyer, perhaps. But then my lawyer would tell me to stay quiet. No, that will not work." Georgios stood back up and walked around to the front of his desk, leaning against it casually. Melissa had to crane her neck upwards to maintain eye contact. "But I tell you what, Detective. I have a reservation tonight at 'Syracusa', it's a Sicillian restaurant, very popular. Why don't I pick you up, eight o'clock? It will be more discrete, having dinner with a beautiful woman like yourself will not upset any of my business associates." Georgios' voice was smooth, his accent dancing on the edge of each word. Melissa reddened perceptibly, caught off guard by his audacity.
"You're asking me out to dinner?" she managed to say, her voice steadier than she felt.
"Is that so surprising, Detective?" Georgios asked, his eyes gleaming. "I find you fascinating. You came in here all by yourself. That takes balls. And besides, I want to help you catch whoever killed poor Amanda. I have resources, information. We can help each other."
Melissa hesitated, her mind racing. This was unconventional, she knew. But she also knew that Georgios was right - he could provide valuable insight into Amanda's life, her clients, her colleagues.
And if that meant having dinner with him at an upmarket restaurant, well, that was a sacrifice she was willing to make. For the case, of course.
"Fine," she said, imparting her voice with all the professionalism she could muster. "Eight o'clock."
Georgios smiled, a slow, predatory, handsome grin. "Excellent. I'll send a car for you."
Melissa turned to leave but a rational voice in her head suddenly stopped her and she spun back to face Georgios, his imposing figure still leaning against the desk.
"Where were you yesterday evening?" Melissa asked him.
"Yesterday? It was my day off, I was home. Alone."