Loving arched an eyebrow. Becky Sue?

“Hi, Becky Sue,” the face on the screen replied. “I’ve been watching you.”

“You yellow dog, you.”

“I’m in one of the back caverns. Got a bottle of champagne and a chaise longue. Would you like to join me?”

“I don’t know. Whatcha got?”

Christina found his attempt at a seductive look all too amusing. “More than you can handle, sister.” He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

“I dunno, pardner. I can handle a lot.”

Adam was still unbuttoning. “That’s good to hear. Because I’ve got a lot for you.”

“Tell me more.”

“Why talk at all? Come back to my cavern and I’ll give you a taste of my all-night sucker.”

Christina pressed a hand to her throat. “Oh, my.”

“Come on, gorgeous,” Adam cooed. “Let me show you what you’re missing. We’ll relax, pour a few shots.”

“Sorry, slick. I don’t do hard liquor.”

“Do you smoke? I’ve got some joints.”

Loving stiffened.

“It’s quality stuff. Just in from Mexico.”

Loving began to slide from their booth. Christina grabbed his arm. “Hold on, Starsky.”

“What’s the problem?” Adam asked. “He doesn’t smoke?”

“No, dear. The problem is he hates drugs and the people who promote them. Last guy who tried to pass him a joint ended up in the hospital for a week.”

The screen went black.

Loving got up. “I’m going after him.”

“Don’t bother. He’ll be long gone.”

Loving grimaced. “I got enough atmosphere. Let’s try some actual investigatin’. They’re expecting us. You want the owner?”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

“I’ll do the barmaid. Word on the street says she was a close friend of Tony Barovick’s.” He moved toward the bar. “Don’t make anyone mad or go anywhere I can’t see you. I’m only lettin’ you in on this ’cause we’re so pressed for time. Push hard. Don’t let him weasel around with half answers. We’ll meet back here when you’re done.”

“No doubt,” Christina said. “Unless I find a dark cavern with a chaise longue.”

Christina hated being made to wait, but she might tolerate it from, say, the president of the United States. But from a greasy, overweight club owner? It didn’t sit well.

Fortunately, she had the overhead monitors to amuse her. One was scrolling through a montage of images from throughout the bar: couples kissing, men’s butts in tight jeans, women’s cleavage-had a camera been pointed at her chest while she sat in the booth with Loving?-a rapid-fire succession of faces howling with gaiety or rapturous with passion. If this wasn’t a television commercial, it should be.

At long last, Mario Roma put down his cell phone. “So you’re defending the guy who killed Tony.”

“Accused,” Christina clarified.

“We had cops and lawyers crawling all over the place, after what happened. I don’t remember you.”

“I’m new to the case.” Christina took the open stool-then immediately checked to see if there were any cameras zooming in on her cleavage. “So you own this place?”

“I do. My pride and joy.”

“How’s it doing?”

“It’s turned into a nice little moneymaker. I’m talking to some people about turning it into a franchise.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s a unique concept. You deserve your success.”

“Thanks, lady, but I can’t take credit. It was all Tony’s idea.”

“Tony? Tony Barovick?”

“Yeah.” Roma waved, and a waitress brought him what looked like a microwaved burrito. “You want something?”

Christina gazed at the mass of congealed cheese and refried beans. “I already ate. Thanks, though.”

“When Tony came on as manager, this was a perfectly ordinary singles joint. People flirting and dancing and coming on to each other just like they have for the last fifty years.”

“And Tony Barovick came up with the idea of modernizing it?”

“Exactly. He was into computers and video and stuff. Understood all this high-tech jazz. Couldn’t figure out why it had never been used to help people get together. We use technology to improve our businesses and transportation and television reception, so he thought: Why don’t we use it to improve the mating process?”

“Good point, if a little clinical. So you went for it.”

“Almost immediately. I can’t take credit for the idea, but I know a good one when I hear it. I took out a loan and invested a million bucks in all these cameras and computers and stuff. We’ve been booming ever since.”

“That’s great.”

“Have you checked it out? It’s fabulous. You can scope the action-without embarrassment or awkward situations. Everyone’s more relaxed. It’s a great way to hook up with someone. I mean, compared to this, computer dating services look like something from the Stone Age.”

“And Barovick also managed the club?”

“Yeah. Did a bang-up job, too. He was on top of everything. Whatever the patrons wanted, he made sure they had it. They loved him.”

“So if Tony was your manager-and idea man-you must’ve known him pretty well.”

“For two years.” Roma took a huge bite, smearing some bean sauce on his gray mustache. “He was a great employee. And friend. I loved him like a brother.”

“You must’ve been pretty torn up after what happened.”

Roma’s cheeks sagged. Hard lines formed across his forehead. “Lady, there ain’t no words for what I felt when-when I found out.”

“Bad?”

“Let me put it this way. I’m not a rich man-but the second I heard what happened, I put it out on the street that I’d pay fifty thousand dollars to anyone who could catch, hurt, or kill the men who did it. Or better yet, all of the above.”

“You put a bounty on their heads? You know that’s illegal.”

“So put the cuffs on me.” He hefted a tall, cold mug of beer. “I did what I had to do.”

“They were caught very quickly. Right here in the bar?”

Roma clenched his teeth so hard his head seemed to shrink. “Yeah, they came back here. Bragging about what they did. How bad they hurt Tony.” His voice became quieter. “If I’d had the chance, I’d have ripped their heads off with my bare hands.”

Looking at the man, his physique, his evident anger, Christina didn’t doubt that he could do it. “I guess you knew Tony was gay?”

“Sure. Everyone knew.”

“And you were okay with it?”

“Didn’t see what business of mine it was who he slept with. Long as it’s between consenting adults, who cares?”

If only we all saw the world through the eyes of Mario Roma. “Did you know the two boys who were arrested? The frat guys?”

“I’d seen ’ em before. But I didn’t want anything to do with them.”

Christina made a mental note. “And why is that? Don’t like fraternities?”

“More than that.” Mario shrugged. “Could be wrong. But the skinny dark one looked like mob to me.”

“And that was bad because-”

“I have to explain what’s bad about the mob? Or maybe you thought that since I’m Italian-American I must be Mafia.”

“I was just asking questions.”

“I’ve kept my nose clean my whole life, lady. I put my life together without any help from anyone, including mob bosses. And I’m proud of it. So don’t start in with your insinuations.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Christina peered intently at the man’s face. Methinks he doth protest too much.

“My club’s a clean joint. We don’t allow people to stumble out and drive drunk. We don’t permit drugs-not even a hint.”

Christina decided not to tell him about Adam and the back cavern.

“Remote Control is a good place where a guy or gal can go to meet someone. Safe. Wholesome.”

“Sort of a Disney singles bar.”

“Well, yeah, in a way. I mean, there’s a need for this. Used to be, you’d meet a nice girl at church, or a neighborhood dance, or whatever. But those old communities have disintegrated. Hell, with computers, some people never leave home. We got more people, but it’s harder to meet them.”

Christina couldn’t disagree. Being single in Tulsa was like being an atheist in, well, Tulsa.