Unveiled
When Elroy Stinson was a young boy, he shared the dreams of his peers, envisioning growing up to be a professional athlete, a heroic firefighter, a famous rock star or an astronaut like Neil Armstrong. He never saw himself working at the department of motor vehicles, yet that's where he wound up, sitting at a desk, shuffling papers and rubber-stamping forms. Day in and day out, it was the same thing: applications for new vehicle registrations, driver's licenses, state IDs and driving permits as well as renewals, replacements and changes of address. He sometimes felt the world should worry less about the dangers of vehicle emissions and more about being buried under a mountain of paperwork.
Despite his tedious job, Elroy considered himself a happy man. He had a wife he loved and a three-year-old daughter who kept both her parents on their toes. Sometimes he wondered how Molly managed to keep up with her all day.
By three o'clock, the crowd of people waiting for service at the DMV had shrunk considerably. It was the time of day when the workers speeded up their efforts, eager to get everyone out the door by four o'clock. Normally, Elroy did not mind staying a few extra minutes, but today was different. He had to attend his cousin's bachelor party at seven, and being a meticulous person by nature, he did not want to arrive late. Promptly at four, he powered down his computer terminal and headed for the parking lot. After a twenty-minute drive home, he sat down to the spaghetti dinner Molly had waiting for him on the table.
"I don't want to sound like a nagging wife," she said, stabbing a meatball with her fork. "But please don't drink too much tonight. I've heard police hang around bars, looking to give people DUIs."
"Don't worry, honey," he reassured her. "I've never been drunk a day in my life—not even at my own bachelor party."
Molly smiled, happy to be married to such a level-headed, dependable man. After all, there were so few of them in the world.
"I've got to go," her husband said, taking one last forkful of spaghetti.
"Have fun," she called as he headed toward the door.
"I'll try."
Just don't try too hard, she thought when she heard the front door close behind him.
* * *
When Elroy crossed the threshold of the dimly lit establishment, he felt as though he were entering an alien world. His bachelor party was held at Bleachers, a sports bar. It was nothing more than a bunch of coworkers from the DMV and old friends from school having a few drinks and exchanging jokes about life after marriage. The Cat's Pajamas, on the other hand, was a gentlemen's club known for its exotic dancers—or as Molly called it: a strip joint.
"Hey, buddy, how've you been?" Artie Stinson, his cousin, called as Elroy walked in the direction of the celebrants. "Glad you could make it."
Just as the Playboy Club was famous for its bunnies, The Cat's Pajamas had its kittens. A pretty blond waitress, wearing cat's ears, whiskers, a tail and very little else, came to the table to take his order.
"I'll have a piña colada, light on the rum."
"Oh, come on," his cousin teased. "Molly's not here; why not order a real drink?"
"I'm fine, really."
A colored spotlight was turned on, pointed at the stage, signaling the start of the show. A young woman, introduced as "Bambi," stepped out from the curtains, dressed in a school uniform similar to the one Britney Spears made popular in her "Baby One More Time" video. Elroy was surprised at how young she looked: in his opinion, not even old enough to drive. The song she danced to was, appropriately, "You're Sixteen."
"Take it off, honey!" one drunken man at the bar shouted.
Artie laughed and reached into his pocket for his wallet.
"I came prepared," he announced, removing a thick stack of singles from the billfold.
Once Bambi stripped down to her G string and pasties, she walked to the edge of the stage where the gentlemen in the audience, including Artie, rewarded her with dollar bills. After collecting as many tips as she could, Bambi left the stage and another dancer came on. The second woman, Aphrodite, somewhat older than the first, was dressed in a vintage Carnaby Street outfit and removed her clothes to "Killer Queen." By the end of the song, she was left wearing a string bikini-like garment that featured the red, white and blue Union Jack. While Elroy handed the woman two dollars, his cousin stuffed at least twenty singles into her G string. Two more dancers followed Aphrodite: an African-American girl who performed her act to the Rolling Stones' "Brown Sugar" and a Marilyn Monroe wannabe who danced to "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend."
Elroy, who had finally finished his piña colada, signaled the waitress that he wanted a second one. Two alcoholic drinks were his limit. It would be flavored seltzer from then on.
Once Marilyn shed her diamonds, it was time for the club's featured dancer.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen," the emcee said, despite there not being a single woman in the audience, "The Cat's Pajamas is pleased to present the beautiful, the mysterious, the oh-so-desirable Miss Sally."
Of the dancers who appeared on stage that night, only Sally could truly be described as exotic. Wearing numerous veils, she looked like an illustration from a book on the tales of the Arabian nights come to life. She was no "Sally," in Elroy's opinion. Sally was a name for the girl next door, Charlie Brown's little sister or the freckle-faced teenager who once sat behind him in high school algebra. Scheherazade would be a more apt moniker for the performer.
Even the music played during the act was different from that of the other performers. It was no pop song, rock classic or show tune. It was not any clearly recognizable style of music, in fact. The somewhat eerie sound, produced by an electronic instrument known as a theremin, added to the air of mystery that seemed to permeate the room as Sally danced.
"She's gorgeous!" Artie exclaimed, his eyes wide with appreciation as she removed one veil after another.
"How can you tell?" Elroy asked. "Her face is covered. All you can see is her eyes."
His cousin did not answer. It was as though he had not even heard the question; he seemed completely captivated by the dancer.
Sally was down to her last two veils, a small one covering the lower part of her face and a much larger one covering her torso. The audience waited in eager anticipation as she gave a slight tug on the larger veil. The moment it fell from her body, however, the stage went dark.
"Let's it hear it for Miss Sally," the emcee said.
The lights came on, but the dancer was gone. She did not return to the stage to collect tips or even to take a bow. Artie seemed bereft.
"Where did she go?" he cried.
A man from the next table, a regular, once-a-week patron of The Cat's Pajamas, answered him.
"To her dressing room, unless tonight is one of those rare special nights."
"Special nights?"
"Those are when she gives some lucky S.O.B. a private dance in the backroom."
"You mean like a lap dance?"
"Sadly, I wouldn't know. I've never had the pleasure of being selected to receive one. They're strictly invitation-only events."
"What is it you have to do to be chosen?"
"Damned if I know! Keep an eye on the bouncer. If tonight's a special one, he'll pick some guy out of the audience and take him backstage. Look!" he said, pointing to the burly weightlifter who kept the drunks in line at the club. "What did I tell you?"
The bouncer escorted a middle-aged man to a door near the stage. The one-time Mr. Universe contestant then stood guard, making sure no one else entered.
"What I wouldn't give to go through that door!" Artie exclaimed.
"Forget about it," Elroy said, patting his cousin on the back. "Next week this time you'll be a married man."
* * *
"Tell me the truth," Molly asked as she turned from side to side in front of the full-length mirror. "Does this dress make me look fat?"
"Not at all," Elroy answered. "You look great."
Even if the tight-fitting cocktail dress made his wife look like one of Dr. Nowzaradan's six-hundred-pound patients, he would not be so stupid as to admit it.
Ten minutes later, his mother-in-law arrived, more than happy to babysit her granddaughter while the couple attended Artie Stinson's wedding.
"We should be home by ten," Molly predicted. "Eleven at the latest."
"No need to rush. My overnight bag is in the car."
When he and his wife arrived at the church, Elroy was surprised by his cousin's appearance.
"Artie looks like he just woke up with a bad hangover," he said. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear his bachelor party was last night, not last week."
"He probably had too much to drink at the rehearsal dinner."
But as he watched the groom both before and during the wedding service, Elroy suspected his cousin suffered from more than a simple hangover. Ordinarily a well-spoken, confident—some would even say cocky—young man, he stuttered as he recited his vows, his hands trembled as he put the ring on his bride's finger and his face twitched throughout the ceremony.
That's the worst case of wedding jitters I've ever seen.
Elroy assumed his cousin would regain his composure once the minister officially pronounced the couple man and wife. However, even after having spent two hours before the start of the reception posing for wedding pictures, Artie still appeared anxious and agitated.
"What's wrong with you today?" Elroy asked when he spoke to his cousin in the men's room prior to the cutting of the cake. "You're not having second thoughts about the marriage, are you? It's too late if you are."
"No, not really."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Only after making sure there was no one else in the bathroom did Artie answer the question.
"I can't stop thinking about her."
"Her?"
"Sally, the dancer."
"I'd keep that to myself if I were you. Don't let your wife know you're thinking about a stripper on your wedding day," Elroy laughed.
"It's not funny!" Artie shouted, and then prudently lowered his voice. "I can't get her out of my mind. I think about her during the day and dream about her at night. I even went back to The Cat's Pajamas twice this week to see her. I would have gone every night, but I had to attend rehearsals and then the dinner last night."
"Hey, you gotta snap out of it. You're a married man now. So, stop thinking about some stranger who does the dance of the seven veils."
"You don't understand. The night of my bachelor party she looked me in the eyes when she was up on stage. We made an instant connection. Honest to God, I felt as though the earth moved beneath my feet!"
"How much have you had to drink today?"
"I'm not drunk. I had one glass of champagne during the best man's toast."
"Look, I don't mean to be so blunt about it, but—Jesus, Joseph and Ralph!—you're talking like a lunatic. You keep this up, and you'll be trading that fancy tux for a straitjacket."
"You're right," Artie admitted, forcing himself to laugh. "You always were the sensible one. I guess it comes from working at the DMV."
"Tomorrow you'll be on your way to the Bahamas. After two weeks of sunny skies and sandy beaches, you'll forget all about Sally."
But just the mention of her name caused Artie's body to quiver with excitement.
* * *
One month after their wedding, the newlyweds were invited to Elroy's home for dinner. Molly had prepared her signature dish, chicken alfredo, and baked a triple chocolate Bundt cake for dessert.
"I wonder what's keeping them," her husband said.
He was used to eating at five thirty every night, and it was nearly seven o'clock.
"I don't know. I told them we'd eat at six. If they don't get here soon, I'll have to heat up the chicken in the microwave."
Elroy returned to his newspaper. Having read the lead stories on the sports section, he turned to the local news. HEADLESS BODY OF NEW JERSEY BUSINESSMAN FOUND was printed across the top of the page. The man in the photograph beneath the gruesome headline looked familiar.
Where have I seen him before?
As he read the article about the decapitated body of an out-of-state salesman discovered in a dumpster near the Walmart loading dock, he remembered where he had seen the face: at The Cat's Pajamas on the night of Artie's bachelor party. He was the man who was selected to receive a private dance from Sally, the stripper.
At ten after seven, the phone rang. After speaking with his cousin's wife, Elroy relayed the gist of their conversation to his wife.
"They're not coming."
"Why wait until now to let us know?" Molly asked with annoyance.
"Apparently, Artie never came home from work."
"Didn't he call Roseanne?"
"No. She tried calling him, but his cell phone is turned off. She's worried sick about him."
"Maybe one of us should go over there."
"Why don't we eat first and wait to hear back from her?"
"All right. Let me just heat the chicken up."
"Don't bother. I'll eat it cold. I'm starving!"
After finishing his second slice of Bundt cake, Elroy loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher while his wife got their daughter ready for bed. The phone rang as he was rinsing off the pans.
"Hey," Artie said. "I'm sorry about tonight. I hope Molly didn't go to too much trouble."
"She did, but don't worry. The food won't go to waste. What happened to you? Was there heavy traffic on I-95?"
"No. I went there again," his cousin replied in a voice barely above the volume of a whisper.
"Not The Cat's Pajamas! I thought you were over that."
"Are you kidding? I haven't been able to stop thinking about Sally since I first laid eyes on her. Since coming back from the Bahamas, I've gone back to the club eight or nine times."
"What about your wife? Doesn't she wonder where you are?"
"I tell her I'm working. So far, she believes me."
"This isn't good. Maybe you ought to see someone."
"I am. I'm seeing Sally."
"You mean you're dating her?" Elroy asked, shocked that a man would cheat on his wife so soon after getting married.
"No. I mean I'm going to see her. I've bribed the bouncer to get me a private dance."
"How much did you give him?"
"Five grand."
"Where did you get that kind of money?"
"We got close to seven thousand in wedding presents."
"But Roseanne was putting that money aside for a down payment on a house."
"Damn it! This is more important."
"Listen to yourself! You're talking like a crazy man! I have half a mind to tell your wife ...."
Elroy stopped speaking. His cousin was no longer on the line.
"What's all the yelling about?" Molly asked as she entered the kitchen, having put her daughter to bed for the night. "If you wake the baby up, you'll have to get her back to sleep."
"I'll be quiet," he promised, putting the telephone receiver back in its cradle.
"Who was that on the phone, anyway?"
"Artie."
"Oh, thank God he's all right. I was afraid he was in an accident or something."
Elroy was not so sure his cousin was all right. He feared the "or something" might prove to be worse than a car accident.
* * *
Elroy slept late Sunday morning. That was one of the perks of working for the DMV: having all holidays and weekends off. Molly had breakfast waiting for him when he went downstairs. As he sat down at the table, he smiled at his daughter who was stuffing handfuls of Honey Nut Cheerios into her mouth.
"There's my little princess," he said. "Do you know what today is?"
"Christmas," the toddler replied, spitting out Cheerios in the process.
"No, sweetheart, it's not Christmas. It's Sunday, and Mommy and Daddy are going to take you to Chuck E. Cheese."
"Pizza!"
"That's right. Pizza."
Two hours later, Elroy was watching his daughter attempt to stand up in the bouncy house. When she went down on her bottom for the fifth time, Molly took her out and put her in the ball pit. Elroy's cell phone rang just as he was hit in the face with a plastic ball.
"Hello," he said, tossing the ball back into the pit.
It was Roseanne, his cousin's wife, and he could tell from her voice that she was upset.
"Have you heard from Artie? He never came home last night."
Elroy had a good idea where her husband was, but he would never tell her that.
"No, I haven't spoken to him since he phoned to apologize for missing dinner the other night."
"He told me he had to work late, but his supervisor said he left the office early. I've been trying his cell all morning, but the call goes straight to voicemail. I don't know ...."
Sobbing, Roseanne was unable to continue. Elroy felt sorry for her, and he was angry at his cousin for treating her so badly.
"Why don't I go and look for him?" he offered.
"Would you?"
"Sure. In the meantime, you stay by your phone in case he calls."
"Don't tell me Artie went M.I.A. again?" Molly asked.
"Yup. This time he stayed out all night."
"He may be your cousin, but he's a real ass."
"No argument there," Elroy agreed.
"And you're going to go look for him? Today? When we had plans to spend quality time with our daughter?"
"Take these," he said, handing his wife his car keys. "I'll get a ride back to the house and borrow your car. You stay here with the princess. I promised her pizza, and I try not to break my promises."
A coworker from the DMV picked him up in Chuck E. Cheese's parking lot and drove him home. Once behind the wheel of his wife's Subaru, he headed for The Cat's Pajamas. He did not know if the gentlemen's club was open; but he knew if it was, his cousin was sure to be there.
Good. It must be open for lunch, he thought after seeing a dozen or so cars in the club's parking lot.
There were no strippers onstage, just two scantily clad young women pole dancing. Approximately twenty men were drinking, but none of them were eating since The Cat's Pajamas did not serve food.
"Can I help you, pal?" the bartender called when he saw Elroy standing in the middle of the room, craning his head as though looking for someone.
"Yeah. I'm supposed to meet my cousin here."
"What's he look like?"
"He's twenty-five, six feet tall, about one hundred eighty pounds, blond hair, blue eyes. I understand he has recently become a regular here."
"Ah, you must mean Artie."
"That's him. Has he been in here today?"
"No."
"What about last night?"
The bartender suddenly clammed up.
"I can't help you. I gotta go take inventory now."
Why was that guy acting so cagey?
Elroy looked at his watch. It was early yet. Molly would be at Chuck E. Cheese for at least another hour. Hoping Artie might show up, he took a seat at the bar. He was nursing a beer—nothing stronger this early in the day—when the afternoon show began. Bambi in the schoolgirl uniform was followed by Carnaby Street Aphrodite, "Brown Sugar" and the faux Ms. Monroe. When the emcee announced the beautiful, the mysterious, the oh-so-desirable Miss Sally, he scanned the crowd again. He had been sure Artie would show up when Sally took the stage, but he hadn't.
Well, I tried. Maybe he went on a bender last night and is sleeping it off in his car somewhere. If so, he'll go home to his wife eventually. I'll just finish my beer and then leave. It's Sunday, and I've got my own family to think about.
When Elroy put the glass of Sam Adams to his lips and put his head back to drink, his eyes met Sally's. In that moment, he felt what his cousin must have felt the night of the bachelor party, what Artie had referred to as an "instant connection."
She's absolutely stunning! he thought, despite the fact that he saw nothing of her face but her eyes.
After Sally pulled at her final veil and the lights went out on her act, Elroy left the bar. He did not, however, return to Chuck E. Cheese or to his home. He went to the nearest ATM machine, withdrew the maximum amount allowed and returned to The Cat's Pajamas to wait for Sally's next show.
* * *
"You're going out again?" Molly asked when her husband put on his jacket after clearing away the dinner dishes.
"Yeah."
"I think it's commendable that you want to help find Artie ...."
Elroy knew by the inflection of his wife's voice that there was a but on its way.
"But ...."
There it is!
" ... he's been missing for two months already, and you've gone out looking for him every night. Why don't you stay home and let the police do their job? They're more than capable of finding a missing person."
"Yeah? Like they found Jimmy Hoffa?"
Molly could not help laughing at her husband's reference to the long-lost Teamster president. It was ridiculous to think the two men shared a similar fate.
"It's not funny," he said. "People go missing all the time without being found: Lord Lucan, Judge Crater, Natalie Hollaway, Amelia Earhart ...."
"Amelia Earhart? Are you serious? She went down in an airplane. I hardly think the police were called in to search the bottom of the Pacific Ocean!"
"There's no point in arguing with you," Elroy said, reaching for his keys on the hook beside the door. "Don't wait up. I don't know when I'll get back."
"If I didn't know any better," Molly teased, "I'd think you had a girlfriend you were eager to visit."
The keys fell from Elroy's hands, and he stared at his wife, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.
"W-what made you s-say such a thing?" he asked, nervously stuttering.
"I'm joking with you. I know you'd never have an affair with anyone. You work at the DMV, for Christ's sake!"
No doubt Molly would be flabbergasted to learn that her heretofore trustworthy husband was not going out in search of his missing cousin but was headed for The Cat's Pajamas gentlemen's club. Since his eyes met Sally's and formed an instant connection, he had gone there every night. Like Artie, he was obsessed with the exotic stripper and determined to one day be chosen by the bouncer to receive a private dance.
"The usual?" the bartender asked when Elroy sat on a stool at the bar.
"Yeah."
"Here you go. Piña colada, light on the rum."
The man could have given him antifreeze in a cocktail glass, and the customer would not have known the difference. Nothing and no one mattered to him but the mysterious woman wrapped in diaphanous veils.
Elroy's pulse quickened when the stage lights came on, knowing the show was about to begin. Bambi and her schoolgirl uniform were no longer on the bill. The opening dancer was now Susie the cheerleader with the oversized pom-poms. He sipped his drink and waited. A second dancer, a third. Another sip, more waiting. By the time the fourth dancer, Marilyn and her diamonds, finished her act, his heartbeat was racing.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen," the emcee's voice announced over the public address system, "The Cat's Pajamas is pleased to present the beautiful, the mysterious, the oh-so-desirable Miss Sally."
Elroy's eyes followed the dancer's every move as she slinked across the stage, tantalizing the men in the audience as she slowly and seductively removed each veil to the eerie melody of a theremin.
Look at me, he mentally commanded. You did once before. We made a connection then. Do it again, now. Please.
But Sally kept her eyes averted, looking at no one.
The performance came to an end in the usual manner. Just before the lights went out, she tugged on the large veil, leaving only a small one to cover the lower part of her face. Thus, she gave the audience only the quickest glimpse of her body. The now-you-see-it, now-you-don't moment always left them wanting more. The lights came on, literally, but figuratively they were still off for Elroy Stinson. When Sally disappeared from the stage, she took the brightness with her.
"Another piña colada?" the bartender asked, wrenching the customer from his dream world and bringing him back to grim reality.
"No. Give me a scotch, straight up. Make that a double."
The time for sissy drinks is over, he told himself. It's about time I had a real drink, a MAN's drink.
He grabbed the shot glass, took a gulp and almost choked.
Ugh! This stuff is awful!
Despite the unpleasant taste (that was an understatement!), he continued to drink the whiskey, as though it were some primitive ritual to prove his manhood. He made it halfway through the glass—fairly certain he would throw it all up before the end of the evening—when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and saw the hulking figure of the bouncer towering above him.
"Come with me," the brawny weightlifter said.
"What did I do? I was just sitting here at the bar, having a drink. I didn't ...."
When he realized the bouncer was not evicting him from the club but was leading him to the door near the stage, Elroy's heart leapt with joyful anticipation.
I'm about to get a private dance!
* * *
The bouncer opened the door, and Elroy stepped inside the room. It was larger than he had imagined, and the walls were covered with the same fabric used to make the dancer's veils. Large, over-stuffed cushions served as furniture. The décor gave him the overall impression of being in a tent or on the set of a movie adaptation of The Thief of Baghdad.
All thoughts of his surroundings vanished when Sally appeared. Once again, her veils were in place.
"Sit down," she said, and he immediately obeyed.
There was no theremin music to accompany her movements. The only sound was the soft swish of her organza veils. Moments after the first one was dropped to the floor, Sally slowed her dance. Standing just inches away from the enthralled customer, she looked him in the eye and laughed.
"What would you be willing to do to have me take off another veil?"
Her provocative voice was as enticing as her eyes.
"Anything," he replied hoarsely.
A slight tug of fabric, and another veil fell to the ground.
The dancer twirled, and the organza ballooned out around her.
"Anything?" she asked, slowing down to look him in the eye again.
"Yes."
She removed another veil and continued her dance.
"Anything at all?"
"Yes," he repeated more urgently.
Sally continued to tease him as she danced. The more playful she became, the more she captivated Elroy.
"No matter what I ask?"
"Yes. I'll do whatever you want me to."
Another veil down.
"Promise?"
"Yes, yes! I promise! You have my solemn word."
Sally handed him a corner of the veil and let him pull it free. As in her stage act, only two veils remained. One covered her body—just barely!—and the other concealed her face.
"Come with me."
Elroy did not question her as to where they were headed. Like a slave, he followed her every command. The dancer parted two silk tulle curtains on the wall, revealing a door, through which they descended a staircase. At the bottom of the steps, in a cavernous cellar, was a pole. No scantily clad women danced on it, but a man was secured to it with ropes.
What ...?
It was the only thought Elroy was capable of forming. Only that one word was able to squeeze through the images of Sally that crowded his brain.
The man on the pole slowly raised his head. Artie Stinson's eyes widened when he saw his cousin standing beside the exotic dancer. He made no effort to move, for the ropes held him too tightly. He did, however, try to call out a warning, but the gag in his mouth made it impossible for him to form words capable of being understood.
"Are you willing to kill to see me take off the last two veils?" Sally asked.
"Yes," Elroy replied.
The hulking bouncer suddenly appeared. He untied Artie and removed the gag from his mouth.
"Quick! Get out of here," the doomed man advised his cousin. "Run for your life!"
As the bouncer forced Artie down on his knees, the dancer produced a chopping block and an axe.
"Kill him," she told Elroy.
"I can't. He's my cousin."
Sally teased him by pretending to remove another veil.
"Don't you want to see me finish the dance?"
As though acting against his will, the man from the DMV took the axe from her. The large veil fell, leaving only the one on her face. After seeing Sally's voluptuous body, Elroy surrendered himself to her bidding. With no will of his own, he lifted the axe and brought it down on his cousin's neck.
The dancer raised her hand and removed the final veil.
"Sally," Elroy moaned in rapture at the sight of her exquisite face.
"My name is not Sally. It is Salome, daughter of Herodias and stepdaughter of Herod Antipas."
The name echoed in his befuddled brain. It sounded familiar and somewhat ominous, but in his current mental state, he could not place it.
"Salome?" he asked himself.
A hazy gauze, like one of Sally's veils, seemed to lift from Elroy's brain.
"Salome. She was the one in the Bible that demanded the head of John the Baptist on a platter," he said, at last able to form a coherent sentence.
"As payment for the dance I performed for the king."
"You can't be her. She lived ...."
"... more than two thousand years ago, and I've demanded like payment for my services for the past two millennia."
As the stripper began picking her veils up off the floor, the bouncer grabbed Elroy and tied him to the pole, using the same ropes that had kept his cousin prisoner. The bound man watched in horror as Salome picked up Artie's head by its hair.
"Get rid of the body," she ordered the bouncer. "And make sure no one finds it. I don't want another screw-up like the one that happened with that salesman from New Jersey. When you're done, drop his car off somewhere near the train station."
The bouncer reached into Elroy's pocket and removed his car keys. Meanwhile, Salome opened a closet in which there were hundreds of fleshless skulls and human heads in various stages of decomposition. Her captive turned away, not wanting to see his cousin's terrified features frozen in death.
"I've got to go now," she announced after closing the door on her trophies. "I have a show to perform."
Elroy instinctively knew there would be another man in the audience who would look into her eyes and feel an instant connection. Eventually that man, after falling under the dancer's bewitching spell, would be granted a private dance. He would come down the stairs, willing to do anything to have Sally remove her last two veils. He would pick up the axe and swing it.
And my head will be placed in that closet beside poor Artie's.
No, Salem is not dressed to dance at The Cat's Pajamas. These are his actual pajamas. (Don't ask.)
