He’d heard the Mouse’s Tail was a pretty steamy place, but he’d never been in there. When Landers wanted to go to a strip club, he went to the beach or Atlanta. As much as he liked to look at tits and ass, he knew the TBI would probably fire him if they heard he was hanging out at the local titty bar. Those kinds of places were notorious for drugs.

”Five,” the woman said. ”We’re open five to two, six days a week. Closed on Sundays.” Her voice was kind of Southern belle-ish, not exactly what he expected to hear from a woman who looked like her, with a syrupy Tennessee drawl. Landers thought it was nice that the titty bar observed the Sabbath.

”So you were open last night?”

”Wednesday’s usually a pretty good night for us.

It’s hump day, you know.”

She had a little smile on her face when she said

”hump day.” Landers wondered how much humping went on in there on hump day.

”Was it crowded last night?”

”Wasn’t anything special, sugar. Do you mind if I ask why you’re asking?”

As she talked, Landers noticed her mouth. Nice teeth, and candy apple red lipstick. Looked like a color you’d paint a ‘56 Chevy. Landers briefly envisioned those red lips wrapped around his pole.

”Just doing my job, Ms. Barlowe,” he said. ”Obviously, I wouldn’t be here unless I was working some kind of an investigation.”

”I understand completely,” she said, ”but I’m sure you can understand that I’m concerned when a police officer, even one as handsome as yourself, shows up at my place of business asking questions. Maybe I could help you a little more if you’d let me in on what you’re investigating.”

Landers stepped back over to his car, reached in, and picked the photograph of Tester up off the front seat.

”Were you here last night?” he said.

”I’m here every night, sweetie.”

”Recognize this guy?” Landers handed the photo to her. She looked at it for a few seconds, then shook her head and handed it back.