True Tones, True Colors

                                                                              ~True Tones, True Colors~

Jack fidgeted nervously as he waited backstage for the emcee to introduce him. Tonight was his third and final gig at the True Tones jazz club, and he knew all his training had been leading up to this night. His reputation was on the line so he couldn’t afford any screw-ups.

Peeking through the curtain, he noticed she was already there. Her long, tapered fingers lazily caressed the rim of a martini glass. Lorraine was a regular at the club, always sitting center stage not only to enjoy the music, but to flirt with the entertainers, as well.

Her appearance was immaculate. Red lacquered nails perfectly matched the crimson paint on her full lips, and her chestnut waves were held in place with a jeweled clip at the nape of her neck, lending an air of sophistication to her style. The sequins on her navy cocktail dress sparkled in the dim light every time she moved, and Jack could tell that her dark eyes were already busy scanning the crowd from behind gold-rimmed glasses.

Pulling his sax from its case, Jack ran a cloth over the metal, buffing it to a dull shine as the emcee announced the beginning of the night’s entertainment. A polite smattering of applause greeted Jack when he walked out onto the stage, and he smiled at Lorraine before bringing the instrument to his lips.

Soon, the club was filled with the mournful notes of a classic jazz tune, causing a lull in the crowd’s conversation as they stopped to listen to the haunting melody. Lorraine leaned against the stage, her body language sensual and provocative. Periodically, her eyes closed, her body swaying gently to the music.

Jack played his twenty-minute set flawlessly before pausing for intermission. Making his way to the bar, he ordered tonic water and sipped slowly, observing Lorraine the entire time. True to form, she rose gracefully from her seat and approached a well-dressed man, obviously several years her junior. Leaning close, she spoke in low tones causing the young man to grin and follow her back to her table.

They were talking and laughing over fresh drinks by the time Jack took the stage for his second set, and he heard her shamelessly flattering her drinking partner, crimson nails flirtatiously stroking his shirtsleeve.

At the next table, a pair of gentlemen in dark suits sat with drinks in their hands, exchanging a few words and waiting for the show to resume. Jack caught their gaze and nodded. They nodded in response and seemed to listen with casual interest when Jack began to play again.

Halfway into the song, Lorraine signaled to the waiter to bring more alcohol, and it was obvious that her new friend was well on his way to becoming inebriated. Jack tried to focus on his performance, but the butterflies were working themselves into a tizzy in his stomach.

The suited men set down their drinks and leaned forward slightly with an air of expectation. By now, Lorraine was practically in the lap of her new-found conquest. The combination of alcohol, atmosphere and music was taking its toll on the impressionable young man, and Lorraine’s attentions had his head swimming with the implied possibilities for later that evening.

When their drinks arrived, Jack almost faltered on a high note. He struggled to maintain composure with his performance and noticed one of the suits stand slowly in a seemingly casual stretch.

Lorraine was whispering suggestively in her lover’s ear, leaning between him and the table when Jack saw the subtle movement of her finger as she almost imperceptibly released a catch on the gaudy ring she was wearing. A tiny puff of something white dropped into her partner’s glass, and suddenly the room erupted in chaos.

“Freeze!” came the command from the two suits as weapons appeared from under their jackets. In a flash, Jack discarded his saxophone and pulled a pistol from his waistband, dropping to one knee with the gun pointed at Lorraine. With a shriek, she dashed toward the door, but was caught by the arm and immediately restrained.

One of the suited officers snapped a pair of cuffs on her slender wrists as Jack holstered his revolver and descended from the stage. Sliding the deadly ring from her finger, he stated gruffly, “Lorraine McKinley, you are under arrest for attempted murder.”

The startled patrons pressed in curiously and the bartender elbowed his way through the crowd as an obstinate Lorraine was read her rights.

“Jack, what’s going on? Lorraine is one of our best customers!”

Nodding grimly, Jack turned to face him. “Sorry, Frank, but she is also most likely the Black Widow serial killer. We have been staking her out for months, and tonight I believe we finally got the evidence we need to put her away.”

Lifting the tainted drink to his nose, he sniffed tentatively and gestured to another undercover officer, indicating that the glass and ring should be taken to the lab. An officer trained in dealing with post-traumatic stress was attending to Lorraine’s would-be victim.

Frank shook his head in amazement. “I know she had a reputation for being loose, but I never would have guessed she was killing off the guys she picked up here! What a messed up lady!”

An hour later, with the loose ends from the club wrapped up, Jack laid his sax back in its case and headed for the exit. By now, there was a new batch of customers gathering to hear the next performer. A soft touch on his arm caught Jack’s attention and he turned to see a curvaceous blond with a drink in her hand.

“Hey there, music man,” she cooed, noticing his instrument bag. “Care to share a drink with a lonely lady?”

Jack chuckled and politely removed her hand from his coat sleeve. “No thank you, ma’am,” he said wearily. “I think I’ve had my fill of the ladies for one night.”

He left her standing alone in the club as a fresh refrain of jazz began to fill the air.




WC 1000