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RENO, NEVADAAPRIL 18THE DOORBELL JANGLED Kimmy Dale out of her dreamless sleep.She stirred in her bed, groaned, checked the digital clock next to her bed.11:47 A.M.Despite it being solidly midday, the trailer remained night-dark. That was how Kimmy liked it. She worked nights and was a light sleeper. Back in her Vegas headlining days it had taken years of testing shades, blinds, curtains, shutters, sleeping blindfolds, before she found a combination that could truly keep the branding-iron Nevada sun from niggling at her slumber. The Reno rays were less relentless, but they still searched and exploited even the smallest sliver.Kimmy sat up in her king-size bed. The television, a no-name model shed bought used when a local motel finally decided to upgrade, was still on with the volume off. The images floated ghostly in some distant world. She slept alone right now, but that was a condition in constant flux. There was a time when each visitor, each prospective mate, brought hope with them to this bed, brought a this-could-be-the-one optimism that, in hindsight, Kimmy realized, bordered on the delusional.There was no such hope anymore.She rose slowly. The swelling on her chest from her most recent cosmetic surgery ached with the movement. It was her third procedure in the area, and she wasnt a kid anymore. She hadnt wanted to do it, but Chally, who thought he had an eye for such things, had insisted. Her tips were getting low. Her popularity was waning. So she agreed. But the skin in that area had become too stretched out from past surgical abuse. When Kimmy lay on her back, the damn things fell to the side and looked like fish eyes.The doorbell rang again.Kimmy looked down at her ebony legs. Thirty-five years old, never had a baby, but the varicose veins were growing like feeding worms. Too many years on her feet. Chally would want those worked on too. She was still in shape, still had a pretty great figure and terrific ass, but hey, thirty-five is not eighteen. There was some cellulite. And those veins. Like a damn relief map.She stuck a cigarette in her mouth. The book of matches came from her current place of employment, a strip joint called the Eager Beaver. She had once been a headliner in Vegas, going by the stage name Black Magic. She did not long for those days. She did not, in truth, long for any days.Kimmy Dale threw on a robe and opened her bedroom door. The front room had no such sun protection. The glare assaulted her. She shielded her eyes and blinked. Kimmy did not have a lot of visitors- she never tricked at home- and figured that it was probably a Jehovahs Witness. Unlike pretty much everybody else in the free world, Kimmy did not mind their periodic intrusions. She always invited the religiously rapt into her home and listened carefully, envious that they had found something, wishing she could fall for their line of bull. As with the men in her life, she hoped that this one would be different, that this one would be able to convince her and shed be able to buy into it.She opened the door without asking who it was. Are you Kimmy Dale? The girl at the door was young. Eighteen, twenty, something like that. Nope, not a Jehovahs Witness. Didnt have that scooped-out-brain smile. For a moment Kimmy wondered if she was one of Challys recruits, but that wasnt it. The girl wasnt ugly or anything, but she wasnt for Chally. Chally liked flash and glitter. Who are you? Kimmy asked. Thats not important. Excuse me? The girl lowered her eyes and bit on her lower lip. Kimmy saw something distantly familiar in the gesture and felt a small ripple in her chest.The girl said, You knew my mother. Kimmy fiddled with the cigarette. I know lots of mothers. My mother, the girl said, was Candace Potter. Kimmy winced when she said that. authentic nfl football jerseys cheap It was north of ninety degrees, but she suddenly tightened her robe. Can I come in? Did Kimmy say yes? She couldnt say. She stepped to the side, and the girl pushed her way past.Kimmy said, I dont understand. Candace Potter was my mother. She put me up for adoption the day I was born. Kimmy tried to keep her bearings. She closed the trailer door. You want something to drink? No, thank you. The two women looked at each other. Kimmy crossed her arms. Not sure what you want here, she said.The girl spoke as if shed been rehearsing. Two years ago I learned that I was adopted. I love my adopted family, so I dont want you to get the wrong idea. authentic nfl football jerseys wholesale I have two sisters and wonderful parents. Theyve been very good to me. This isnt about them. Its just that... when you find out something like this, you need to know. Kimmy nodded, though she wasnt sure why. So I started digging for information. It wasnt easy. But there are groups who help adopted kids find their birth parents. Kimmy plucked the cigarette out of her mouth. Her hand was shaking. But you know that Candi- I mean, your mother- Candace... ... is dead. Yes, I know. She was murdered. I authentic nfl football jerseys found out last week. Kimmys legs started to feel a little rubbery. She sat. Memories rushed back in and they stung.Candace Potter. Known as Candi Cane in the clubs. What do you want from me? Kimmy asked. I spoke to the officer who investigated her murder. His name is Max Darrow. Do you remember him? Oh, yes, she remembered good ol Max. Knew him even before the murder. At first Detective Max Darrow had barely gone through the motions. Talk about low priority. Dead stripper, no family. Another dying cactus on the landscape, that was all Candi was to authentic nfl football jerseys china Darrow. Kimmy had gotten involved, traded favors for favors. Way of the world. Yeah, Kimmy said, I remember him. Hes retired now. Max Darrow, I mean. He says they know who killed her, but they dont know where he is. Kimmy felt the tears coming to her eyes.