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“Who does he normally hang out with? Does he like a particular girl?”
“Yep. I believe he usually goes to Bambi when he wants a lap dance.”
“Is that her real name?”
“No. But that’s the name she goes by here at work.”
“Where can I find her?”
“She’s off today.”
“Home address?”
“You’ll have to get that from the manager. She’s in her office.”
“Manager’s name?” I asked.
“Krystal Thorndyke.”
“And she’s in her office now?”
“Yep.”
I thanked the bartender, downed the last of my beer and waited for Billy to finish his. We made our way through the dimly lit strip club to the manager’s office.
Krystal’s office was the most up to date part of the whole building. Clean and neat and well lit—clearly a business office. She was a pretty lady in her early fifties with long silver hair that came out of a bottle. Her red dress fit her curves snugly and I figured she might have started out on the pole herself.
Krystal’s eyes were glued to a computer screen. She looked up as we entered, her lips curling into a sneer. “What do you guys want?” she asked, her voice laced with irritation.
I flashed my badge and moved closer to her desk, Billy right behind me for backup.
“Sheriff Frost. Heard of you. Tough guy from Texas who came up north to show us how it was done.” She laughed and I liked her right away.
“If you don’t mind, I need the home address of one of your dancers—goes by Bambi.” I kept my tone polite.
“I don’t give out that information. My girls have private lives when they leave here. Why should I help you?” she asked with her eyebrows raised.
“It’s important to our murder investigation,” I said, hoping to convince her. “I need to talk to her about something urgent.”
“What would Bambi know about murder?” asked Krystal.
I explained about her being Burke Foster’s favorite dancer and Krystal acknowledged the connection.
“Okay, I see how she might be able to help you. And in an effort to keep on the good side of the cops, I’ll tell you something else that might be useful.”
“Appreciate it,” I said, and I meant it. We needed help.
She wrote down names and an address, giving us two good leads, and she didn’t mind doing it either.
We left with Bambi’s home address in Ethridge and the name of a girl Burke used to date. Used to be a stripper but retired early to raise her child.
Krystal didn’t know if Burke was the father of the child or not. The girl’s name was Heather Knudsen and she lived in Cut Bank but Krystal didn’t know her address.
I thanked her and left my card in case Burke happened to come in for a lap dance.
She promised she’d let me know.
It had been well worth our time to talk to Krystal.
