Beatrice had watched the man for a long time. He frowned almost constantly. The only exception was when she came near; then his eyes would light up and he would grin like a fool. He would definitely be an easy mark.

“Hi,” she greeted, finally taking a seat at his table. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“It would appear I was waiting for you,” he replied. His eyes roved over her body, taking it all in. He started at her eyes and slid down, over her full breasts, her tiny waist, the flair of her hips and down to her feet. His gaze lingered there for a long time.

“Buy me a drink?” she asked.

“What would you like?” he returned, signaling a waitress to join them. When the tiny server was at his side, he said, “Whatever the lady wants and a bourbon.”

“Sure, sweetie,” the girl said. She turned her attention to Beatrice and smiled.

“A martini, extra olive please and easy on the vermouth,” she said. The waitress scurried across the dance floor deftly avoiding the girating couples by adding a few dips and spins of her own. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new in town?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I had to move suddenly. There was a fire and I lost a great many things that were precious to me.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Beatrice murmured. “So… what do you do?”

“I work in a restaurant,” he replied. “I’m one of the chefs.”

“Whoa, ain’t that the cat’s pajamas,” Beatrice said. “So you must be a pretty good cook then.” He smiled in reply and they chatted about inconsequential things for the next hour. Feeling the time was right, Beatrice invited him back to her place.

By the time they got there, he was nibbling on her neck. She giggled as he took off his tie and bound it over her eyes. He kissed her mouth, then there was a sudden piercing pain in her back and she crumpled into his arms. She moaned as he laid her on the floor.