by Patrice Lyle
"It got good when I told Lola about your Health Nuts Rock wellness center, and he mentioned that his ex hates health nuts. Ming fired back, and I quote, Stupid lady who hate health nuts going to soon be death nut." Aunt Alfa laughed and adjusted her velvet head wrap. "Lola got all excited, slapped me a twenty, and left to post the news on Facebook."
I gently grasped my auntie's wrist. "Aunt Alfa, maybe you should be more careful in how you word your prophecies."
"Tell it to Ming." Aunt Alfa anchored her hand over her eyebrows and peered at Cooter. "I can't help it if Ming's blunt, and I also can't help it if Lola got all excited about his ex dropping dead. Personally, I think that's kind of psycho."
"I reckon I agree." Tex lowered his voice. "I sure hope she doesn't drop dead at this expo."
Just then my cell phone buzzed with a new text. A glance at the screen showed it was Mystic Ming. "Oh, for the love of dark chocolate cheesecake."
You stay out of Triple-A psychic business, Dr. Piper. You have enough problems of your own looking for wedding dress soon.
"Who texted, Doc?"
Problems shopping for my wedding dress? I was about to ask Ming to clarify, but then I decided against it. I refused to let Mystic Ming jinx my pre-wedding joy.
"Mystic Ming," I said and slid my phone back into my silver, sequined purse. I hoped Tex wouldn't ask to read the message. Psychic stuff wasn't his favorite. Plus, I didn't want him to worry about me finding a wedding dress.
Aunt Alfa elbowed my side and pointed at the action. "Wow, these two guys have drawn quite a crowd."
That was for sure. I wouldn't have pegged holistic health attendees for Elvis arm-wrastling fans, but apparently, Elvis 'personators drew all kinds.
"Yer goin' down, Elvis!" Cooter scrunched his face until it had more wrinkles than a shar-pei.
Sweat spilled down Cooter's forehead as he finally slammed his opponent's arm onto the table. He leapt up and clasped his hands over his head. People shrieked for more action, which Cooter took as a request for an impromptu Elvis performance. He tapped his cell phone, and the music to "A Little Less Conversation" filled the air. Cooter began slowly gyrating his hips as he belted out the lyrics to the fast-paced song.
Cooter's opponent joined him in a duet, and they shuffled onto the nearby stage. The two EP's broke into a full-fledged hip-gyrating performance, drawing shrieks from the crowd. The loudest whoops came from my pint-sized auntie.
"A little more Activia!" Aunt Alfa swung her hips and jammed to the music. "This is one of my favorite Elvis songs, Pipe!"
Tattoo Tex didn't catch the Elvis Aunt Alfa-ism and snapped a couple of pictures. "Don't want Brownie missing out on our fun."
I kissed him on the cheek. "You're such a great piglet papa."
He laughed and took a few more photos. When the song ended, Cooter queued up "Burning Love," which roused the crowd more. Especially Aunt Alfa.
"This is my very favorite song by the King. Yes!" She threw her little arms in the air and swung her hips, making her long skirt swoosh along the carpet.
"I feel my temperature rousing." Aunt Alfa's eyes sparkled as she belted out her version of the chorus.
People gawked at Cooter and his friend as they twirled and thrust their hips in their bejeweled spandex jumpsuits. The whoops and hollers they earned were impressive. Cooter tried for the splits but didn't get too far. He braced his back and let out a squeal louder than Brownie's, but then he hoisted himself upright and continued singing.
Tattoo Tex tapped his boots to the music. "I love Elvis, Doc. How can anyone be unhappy when his songs are playing? How about we have our first dance at our wedding reception be 'Can't Help Falling in Love'?"
My arms tingled, and my eyes stung as the lyrics about romantic fools rushing in passed through my mind.
I sniffled. "That's the perfect song, Tex."
"How 'bout we make it our song, Doc?"
Our song. My heart beat so fast that I couldn't speak. I simply nodded. My sudden gushiness was twofold—sentiment about the sweetness of the lyrics and relief that our song hadn't ended up being some twangy country tune.
I was marrying a Texan cowboy, after all.
Tex leaned in and kissed me, making my lips tingle. I was such a goner when it came to Tex. He made my life complete. How lucky was I?
When "Burning Love" ended, Tex cupped his hand around his mouth and hollered out, "Can you play 'Can't Help Falling in Love'?"
The crowd cheered, agreeing with Tex's suggestion. Cooter looked over and waved at me before tapping his cell phone. Soon the two impersonators' shockingly beautiful voices belted out the lyrics to our song.
But then a voice even more beautiful cut in.
"Can I have this dance, Doc?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
And there, in the expo hall of the Big Apple Convention Center, Tattoo Tex and I danced to our song.
For the first time.
Tex whispered the chorus in my ear. My mind was dizzy with thoughts of our future, and my heart brimmed with love. My eyes welled up, and I wondered if I'd be able to make it through our wedding without crying. Tex moved on the floor with a grace I wasn't expecting.
"I never you knew you were such a smooth dancer." I'd secretly pictured him more of a square dancer.
He beamed. "I've been taking ballroom dance lessons so I could twirl you like the princess you are at our wedding."
Aw. I think I fell a little more in love with him.
When the song ended, he dipped me, and everyone clapped. Aunt Alfa sniffed and swiped a tear from her cheek.
"You kids remind me of me and my first husband, Chuck."
Tex looked surprised. "How come I've never heard of Chuck?"
Aunt Alfa waved her hand. "Because the schmuck's on the lam for orchestrating a bingo-hall heist in Vegas."
Quick to change the subject, I elbowed Aunt Alfa. "We should make sure your booth's okay since we left it unattended."
"Sure thing, Pipe. I don't want anyone stealing my crystal ball."
I turned and saw Ruby scurrying across the expo floor toward the back door. Then I noticed something that made my wavy hair shock itself silly.
Veronica Forks lay on the floor. Belly up. Not moving.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ding-Dong! The Diva's Dead
The naturopathic doctor in me took over, and I ran toward Veronica, anxious to provide medical assistance. I crouched beside her and felt her wrist for a pulse. There wasn't one. I pressed my fingers to her neck next. No pulse.
"Call 9-1-1!" someone hollered. "Veronica Forks is unconscious!"
Chaos erupted while people scurried about, snapping cell phone pictures, including Cooter and his EP friend, and pointing and whispering.
How crass.
My chest tightened as I scanned Veronica for signs of what had gone wrong. She could have had a heart attack or a pulmonary embolism. Her reddish complexion and glassy eyes were troubling. The expression on her crimson face was flat, as if her life had seeped out. Her cheeks were still warm. On instinct, I leaned over and blew into her mouth and then compressed her chest.
No reaction. I tried again and again.
It looked like Veronica had left the building and joined Mystic Ming.
"Doc?" The worry in Tattoo Tex's voice was palpable.
I glanced up at him. "Veronica Forks is dead."
Silence hung between us until Loyola popped into view. He gawked at Veronica's body, and the Joker's grin spread across his face. He did a few Irish jig steps and belted out a tune I recognized from The Wizard of Oz.
"Ding-dong! The Diva's dead!"
Loyola's jig continued as the news spread around the room. Whispers rose and joined forces, creating a buzz louder than a colony of honeybees.
Tex's expression darkened. "Not another death at a health expo."
I rose to embrace my cowboy in distress, but the tautness of his jaw told me he was beyond verbal comforting. So I reached into my purse and offere
d him the only thing known to calm me in the throes of the most horrendous PMS.
Post-murder stress.
He eagerly popped a dark chocolate quinoa crisp into his mouth. I did the same while I stared at poor Veronica. She had been a vicious woman from what I'd seen, but no one deserved to die so young and on public display with a cheering ex-fiancé.
Aunt Alfa sidled beside Tex and me. "Rumor has it that the stiff's Veronica Forks, Lola's ex. Is that true?"
I nodded. "I met her earlier." It didn't seem right to speak ill of her now, however.
"Huh. That's weird," Aunt Alfa said as she scratched the veil covering her foam rollers. "Mystic Ming predicted that Veronica would drop dead but not for another twenty-four hours."
Holy chocolate babka! I'd forgotten about that.
"Keep that to yourself, all right?" The last thing I wanted was for an investigative spotlight to be shone on my auntie again.
Aunt Alfa pursed her glossy red lips. "It sure is strange."
A crowd had gathered to gawk at the body. The woman in the kimono edged closer. During the arm-wrastling match, she'd muttered that Veronica was going to be sorry. Her eyes shot daggers of accusation at us.
I grasped Aunt Alfa's elbow. "Let's not talk about that here."
"I can up my rates now, but Ming's got to get his timing right." Aunt Alfa's teal-lined eyes sparkled. "Think about it, Pipe. I can use Veronica's death to market the heck out of my Triple-A psychic business. Ming's accuracy about the 'what' is spot on, but his 'when' is off."
I was going to remind Aunt Alfa to keep quiet when someone let out a shriek that made my legs feel mushier than melted fudge.
"Look at that!" The woman in the kimono pointed near Veronica's body. "A bag of Ken's Killer Kale Chips. Was she eating them when she died?"
She was right. I'd been so distracted examining Veronica's vital signs I hadn't noticed the spilled bag of kale chips near her feet. Hmm. That's interesting.
The girl in the kimono strode toward the bag.
"Don't touch the kale chips," I warned. One of my PI flash cards—from the set I'd used to solve two murders—said never to disrupt evidence. "The police will bag and collect those."
"She's right," a strong female voice said. "We'll collect any and all evidence."
I turned to see a woman in a light gray suit and a brunette bob stride over to Veronica's body. Maybe ten years older than me, she shared my love of cosmetics. Her eyes were lined in a perfect shade of cocoa-brown that made blue eyes pop, and her pink lips matched her pink blouse. And her nails.
Finally, a detective who liked pink.
"All right, everyone, listen up." She flashed a badge and then slipped it into her blazer pocket. "I'm Meg Malone, NYPD homicide detective, and I'll be heading up this investigation."
Two crime scene investigators wearing CSI jackets arrived next, along with a couple of plainclothes detectives, police officers, and paramedics. They rushed toward Veronica's body. The crowd quieted and strained to hear the hushed discussion of the crime scene investigators. But I couldn't make out what they were saying.
Mainly because Meg was talking.
"I'll need everyone to remain in this room until we've had a chance to talk to each one of you." Detective Malone's gaze swept around the room. "For now, we're treating this as a crime scene, and you're all witnesses." After her proclamation, Detective Malone joined the other detectives.
"Crime scene?" Aunt Alfa sighed and dug her phone out from the layers of her gypsy outfit. "I hope this won't cut into our early-bird rice noodles. I know how these murder raps go, so I better let Snookums know we might be late."
When my auntie stepped aside to call Snookums, I looked at Tex. We'd met Snookums at the Carat Cream event several weeks ago, and he'd taken a shine to Aunt Alfa. I wasn't super keen on the idea—mainly because he'd been one of her customers at Senior Sweet Talk, which luckily had disbanded—but if it made her happy then we'd have dinner with him.
"I heard a bag of my Killer Kale Chips was lying by Veronica?" Ken asked as he wedged himself near Tex and me.
A memory sparked like a firefly in my mind. "Ruby gave Veronica a bag of honey-mustard kale chips, but Veronica got angry because she wanted plain honey."
"That's right, Doc." Tex pursed his lips and adjusted his cowboy hat until it was perched on his head just the way he liked it. "I reckon that's kind of interesting."
What was more interesting was that I'd seen Ruby running out of the conference hall when I'd spotted Veronica's lifeless body. Hmm. I didn't want to spread rumors, so I'd share that piece of intel with Tex later.
Ken slid his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "I can't believe they think this could be a crime."
"I reckon they do this in all suspicious deaths. At least the ones we've been at." Apparently the chocolate had worked because Tex's jaw had unclenched.
"Not that we've been at too many suspicious deaths," I said, shooting a Can It, Cowboy look at Tex. I didn't want the pink-loving detective finding out that Aunt Alfa had been a suspect in two separate murders.
That didn't look good, even if she was a cute nonagenarian psychic.
Surfer-esque Ken pointed at me. "You're a doctor, right?"
"A naturopathic doctor, yes," I said.
"Is she dead for sure?" Ken asked.
I nodded. "She really is, I'm sorry to say."
"I wouldn't say I'm sorry about her being dead." Then he must have realized how bad that sounded. "I mean, it's sad and all. But I was just wondering what could kill a healthy young woman?"
Fair question. "Could be a congenital heart defect or a pulmonary embolism."
Ken furrowed his brow. "What's that last one?"
"It's a blood clot. Risk factors are being on the pill and over thirty-five, as well as smoking." I paused, wondering if that was what had happened to Veronica. "How old was she?"
"Thirty-six. But I have no idea if she's on the pill anymore."
Hmm. The word anymore struck me. That implied that Ken had once known an intimate fact about Veronica. Had they been romantically involved? It had been hard enough picturing Veronica with slightly nerdy Loyola.
I hesitated, mainly because it wasn't any of my business, but what if it turned out that Veronica had been murdered? As a part-time PI, it was my duty to ask.
"Did you two have a history?" I didn't need to point out that their previous conversation at the kale chip booth certainly indicated they had. But how serious and for how long?
Ken glanced at his beachy flip-flops, suddenly intent on staring at their woven design. "I don't want to talk about it."
Of course he didn't. He walked away, and I cast Tex a curious look.
"Don't you think it's odd that Ken had a tiff with Veronica, and when she said she would be his new boss, his response was, 'over my dead body'?"
"That's interesting, all right," Detective Malone said as she barged into our conversation. "I'd like to hear more."
I thought about retracting my statement, but the lion-stalking-a-gazelle glint in her eyes made me reconsider.
"You're the doctor who tried to revive the deceased, correct?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Let's go talk."
"Sure. Where?"
Detective Malone pointed to some chairs that had been arranged into small groups on the stage. "We're talking to witnesses and suspects there. Meet you there in sixty seconds, Dr. Piper." She strode away with the kind of purpose I'd once used to ensure I got the last tub of dark chocolate coconut ice cream at a health-food store.
Long story.
"Suspects?" A knot of fear formed in the pit of my stomach as I glanced at Tex. "And how'd she know my name?"
He shook his head and slipped his arm around my waist. "Don't worry, Doc. If for some crazy reason she thinks you're the killer, we can solve this chick's murder. We've done it twice now."
"This is a new twist though. Usually Aunt Alfa's the suspect." Not that I wanted my dear auntie to be a suspect
again, but this was most unsettling.
"I reckon maybe Cooter told the police about you two having words at the kale chip booth."
"Maybe." But if Cooter had ratted me out, was it because he was hiding something? Veronica had ridiculed his weight. Could arm-wrastling-champion Cooter have snapped and killed Veronica?
"Come on, Doc. That detective's giving you the stink eye."
I looked at the stage where Detective Malone was indeed shooting me an unfriendly gaze. I left Tex waiting at the bottom of the steps and hurried up for my meeting. I strode past Cooter talking to a detective quietly and a skinny guy in a minister's collar conferring with another detective.
Hmm. I don't remember a minister.
"Over here, Dr. Piper." Detective Malone was sitting on a folding chair with her legs crossed and a pinched look on her face. She pointed at the chair next to her. "Have a seat."
I sat down and took in her appearance up close. Her hair was cute, but it was thinning at the top, and it looked a bit dry. And her stiff lips gave away her frustration.
Hmm. She was about to interrogate me—a suspect, in her mind—but the naturopath in me was itching to diagnose her.
Detective Malone angled a pen over a small notepad. "State your full name, please."
"Dr. Piper Meadows." Had she ever had her thyroid tested?
Her mouth dropped. "As a matter of fact, I just had it tested, but that's none of your business. Even if you are a doctor."
I scrunched my eyes. "You had what tested?"
She shot me a look that screamed, duh. "My thyroid."
Oops. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud. I was just wondering."
She tilted her head. "What made you think that?"
Oy. How to best approach this subject? What woman enjoyed having their thinning hair pointed out? But then again, what woman didn't want to get to the root of these symptoms? Honesty was always the best policy.
I delicately mentioned her hair and then added, "Also, you seemed a bit edgy." Of course, she was at a potential crime scene. Maybe she'd booked a pedicure for today that came with free dark chocolate that she was now going to miss? That would irk me.
"I've been really anxious lately." She settled back into the chair. "But the thyroid test came back fine, so I don't know what to do. I've tried numerous diets and hair restoration systems to no avail."