The Last Dance

‘I’m serious. Why don’t you do your job and focus on working the murders in that hotel? On a case you can actually solve.’ ‘So you think I can solve it?’ ‘Well, if anyone can, it’s the man I was married to. He was almost as good a copper as he was a dancer and he was one hell of a dancer.’ Alex stood up, smiling as she moved across to stand close b

‘You dance love, and you dance joy, and you dance dreams.’ GENE KELLY ‘Almost nobody dances sober, unless they happen to be insane.’ H. P. LOVECRAFT

The function room above the King’s Arms was not the most spacious in town and, as soon as the band had begun to assault their instruments, the few dozen local devotees of thrash metal willing to pay seven pounds fifty to risk permanent hearing loss had quickly coalesced into a frenzied, sweating mass of hair and leather. Men and women – mostly men

When calling upon a member of the public, for whatever reason, only a police officer with a phenomenal lack of self-awareness would expect a warm welcome. Nobody was ever thrilled to see you, that was a given. A copper (or even worse, two of them) on your doorstep was more or less guaranteed to put a crimp in anyone’s day, but Scarlett Ribbons star

Miller could not always control his instincts, but he trusted them.

To the casual observer, gazing down from the top of the Tower perhaps, or from a penthouse apartment in one of the expensive blocks that have sprung up in recent years, this might be Las Vegas. If that casual observer really squinted. And had never been to Las Vegas.

Miller tore open a bag of scratchings and got stuck in. As always, knowing how bad these crunchy slices of fried pigskin were for him and being well aware of the possibility that he might break a tooth at any moment only made the experience more enjoyable; gave it a salty frisson. It was basically Russian roulette with snacks. As far as the consump