by J R Pearson
“I’m not—” I started, then stopped when she pinched my back, silently telling me to play along. “Oh! Right, she’s right. I’ve got the bladder of a squirrel.” I smiled at Shelly.
“I know what you mean, girl. I was pregnant with triplets, and it seemed like I spent the whole pregnancy on the toilet.” Shelly unlocked the door. “Go ahead.” She waved.
“Thanks!”
“Make it quick!”
Inside, Debbie still behind me, I was inches from Anthony’s office. Please don’t be locked. Please don’t be locked. I turned the doorknob, and it creaked open. Yes!
“I figured you were up to something. You’re lucky I helped you out back there. What gives?” Debbie crossed her arms.
I turned to her and quickly told her my attempt to solve our manager’s murder.
“You don’t have to be here, Deb. In case I get caught I don’t want you getting in trouble too,” I said.
Debbie put her hands on her hips and lifted a brow.
“Not going anywhere.” Her voice was firm. “If you’re trying to find a clue in his office, I say let’s get a move on before Shelly comes.”
I smiled, secretly relieved for her support. Clock ticking, the tiny office was packed with file cabinets, and it would be good to have another set of eyes to help.
“Thank you, Deb. I’m in way over my head,” I said.
“It’ll be okay. I’m here to help,” she replied.
“I’ll be honest. I’ve never done this before. I’m not sure what I’m even looking for.”
“Like a written confession the killer left behind?”
“Exactly. That would freakin’ awesome.” I pointed to a tall cabinet by the door. “You can start there. I’ll quickly go through the desk.”
“On it.” She easily opened a drawer. Frowning at that, I was starting to doubt us discovering something pertaining to Anthony’s murder if everything was unlocked for the whole damn world to see. Nothing important was going to be hidden in an unlocked office. Anthony’s desk held the essentials—calendar, blank notepad, a cup of pens and pencils, and a group picture of all of us in front of the restaurant. I stood in the front row, midlaugh, my eyes closed. Gently I set the picture down and started opening drawers. Box of tissues, paper clips, a jar of olives. Inside the last drawer sat an electronic tablet, programmed to contain employee schedules. I clicked it on and scrolled to last Thursday. I was listed as opening waitress at 11 a.m. The next server to come in at noon, Brandon, a veteran waiter. The schedule was last modified Wednesday night.
Wednesday night? Impossible. Anthony told me Ashley called, suddenly sick, that Thursday morning. How did he know that she would be hacking her guts out the night before?
“Find anything?” I whispered to Debbie. Her back to me, she shook her head.
“Nope. Just employee info stuff. I’ll start looking in this one.” She pointed to another cabinet in the corner.
“I’m almost done searching the desk. Afterward we’ll have to go. I don’t want Shelly walking in on us.” The tablet tilted out of my hand and slapped loudly onto floor. We both froze, expecting someone to come running in.
“Well, that just knocked ten years off my life. I’ll go see if the coast is clear.” Debbie tiptoed out. I bent to pick up the tablet and noticed slips of paper tucked in between the tablet and its rubber case. I took them out one by one.
A receipt from Hot n’ Ready Egg Rolls.
Two around-the-world cruise tickets.
Sticky note reminder to pick up rash cream.
Gum wrapper.
Hold on, cruise tickets? Sure enough, I held a pair of tickets to JewelCove’s annual around-the-world cruise trip. My eyes widened at the bright blue paper. It read “Experience beautiful cultures and dine upon unique dishes! Your adventure begins—” The date was stamped in bold.
Tomorrow.
“Jennie, let’s go!” Debbie called. I shoved the tickets in my purse, tossed everything else in the drawer, shut it, and then closed the door behind me.
Debbie sagged with relief.
“Finally. I was beginning to worry Shelly would call EMTs thinking you had gone into early labor on the bathroom floor. Why are smiling like that? You found something! What is—”
“I’m not sure what it means yet.”
“Let’s talk about it over lunch. Triple B’s?” she asked. “I can meet you there?”
I mentally kicked myself again for not hanging out with Debbie sooner.
Chapter Nine
My stomach grumbled loudly. It knew I had entered Triple B’s. I inhaled deeply like a newly released prisoner who hadn’t breathed fresh air in years. In the middle of the restaurant sat a full-circle bar with a wraparound counter. In the center, two bartenders served drinks. Neon pink pigs with angel wings hung on the walls. This place was heaven to we humans but straight-up hell to pigs. The lunch wave had died down, and a few stragglers occupied the stools and booths along the wall. Once seated, a waiter came to take our order. She asked for a honey mustard chicken, avocado-bacon salad, and a diet soda. I ordered the mushroom Swiss Angus burger, a mini stack of onion rings, and a strawberry lemonade.
“Somebody’s hungry.” Debbie chuckled.
“I guess snooping through a dead man’s office while trying not to get caught really works up an appetite.”
Our drinks came, and Debbie asked what I had found. I slid the tickets to her and pointed to the departure date.
“Tomorrow?” she said in disbelief. “He never mentioned leaving,”
“Maybe he didn’t get a chance to,” I said.
“Or maybe he didn’t plan on telling any of us.” Either way, he’d never be able to go on the adventure of a lifetime.
Moments later, the waiter arrived, order in hand. The onion rings were heavily battered and crunched blissfully in my mouth.
“Despite the arguments, I think Anthony would have taken his wife on the cruise,” Debbie stated around a mouthful of lettuce.
“I wouldn’t put my money on it. Anthony wanted a divorce.” I reiterated the conversation I had with Mrs. Genova.
When I finished, Debbie whistled lowly.
“What a mess,” she said.
“Tell me about it. Now I need to find a way to talk to Maria.”
“I may have the solution to that,” Debbie said, setting down her fork. “I’m ashamed to say my brother, a total slimeball, is a regular at Cha Cha’s. He probably knows Maria.” Debbie took out her cell phone. “I’ll send him a text.”
“Jennie! Hey!” I turned to see Mandy walking toward us. “I was-who the hell is she?” Mandy glared at Debbie, who looked at me in surprise. I introduced the two and patted the booth. “Sit.”
Mandy complied, though remained wary of Debbie. She stole an onion ring before calling over a server, ordering a deluxe toasted turkey bacon sandwich and fries with an orange soda.
“I can’t stay long. I’m on a short lunch break.” She was practically bouncing in her seat with a goofy grin plastered on her face. Something was up.
“Unleash it before you explode.”
“I got a job! I’m officially a sales clerk at Monique’s Boutique.” She gushed.
I choked on my lemonade.
“Why would Monique hire you after your little stunt this morning?”
“What stunt?” Debbie asked.
“Mandy started a protest at the boutique this morning,” I explained.
“Oh yeah, I heard about that. More ass, impressive,” Debbie complimented.
Mandy just shrugged.
“It comes naturally. I firmly believe I was put on this earth to be the voice of those who don’t have one,” she said.
“You caused a public disturbance.”
“Not according to Monique. She says I’ve got passion and thinks I’m the perfect person to represent her store.”
“She’s right about passion. Is she going to comply with your request of carrying larger sizes?”
“She is!”
“Oh, that’s great.” I applauded. Meatball Mandy, making a difference.
“It is. She also said if I started any more trouble, she’ll have me arrested faster than a pair of sandals selling during Saturday’s sizzlin’ shoe sale.” When Mandy’s food arrived, I finished and told her about Maria.
“Old man ditches wife for a younger side piece. Classic.” She shook her head.
Debbie’s phone chimed.
“My brother said, and I quote, ‘The stacked brunette works there every night around eight.’“
“Perfect! We can meet here at a quarter till seven and—”
“Actually, I can’t. I’ve got to go into JewelCove this evening,” Debbie explained.
Whoops, I hadn’t thought about anybody having plans tonight. I turned to Mandy. “What about you? Are you busy?”
“Josh and I are seeing a movie, but that starts at nine. You and I can go to Tacky Tacky’s before then.”
“It’s Cha Cha’s.”
“I know. The name I gave suits it better.”
The three of us parted ways and I headed home to catch up on some laundry. Although, being lazy on the couch sounded far more appealing. Key in the lock, I heard footsteps approaching from down the hall. I glanced behind me to see a handsome man headed my way.
“Hello, you live here?” Worry clouded his pale blue eyes. I didn’t answer. The man shook his sandy blond head, then held out a hand.
“I’m sorry, that sounded weird. Let’s start over. I’m Tyler.”
“Jennie.” I shook his hand. He smiled wide. Not bad.
Tyler went back to looking worried.
“I was walking Lucky, my aunt’s dog, and I stopped to look at my phone, completely not paying attention, and he just took off somewhere around the building. I was wondering if you could help me find him. I’m not familiar with the area.” He smiled hopefully.
I was skeptical, and he sensed it.
“Please? Here.” He showed me his driver’s license, issued in West Emily. Not a local. Tyler Cunningham. I wanted to question him, but I had to believe not everyone had something to hide. Like Anthony.
“Okay.” I followed Tyler around the block, calling out to Lucky—oh, the irony. A yellow Labrador. We weren’t alone on the sidewalks, so I was glad this wouldn’t end in an abduction. Is paranoia a good color on me? After thirty minutes of no luck-shit, sorry—Tyler gave me his number, telling me to call if I found the dog.
“Call also if you want some company one night.” He winked and walked away.
I snorted. Don’t count on it, buddy.
Kicking the door shut behind me, I came to the realization that my current employee status was in limbo. Should I be searching for a new one? I have rent to pay! Even if Enzo’s reopens, do I really want to stay and constantly be reminded of the murders while I’m serving lasagna to people?
Nope!
I dumped the contents of my purse on the kitchen counter, in search of my phone. Greenville had a community website, listing any job openings. Fortunate for my best friend, her protest led to a hiring since, after scrolling the list, all that was available was a proctologist position at the medical offices. I guessed the previous person was fired due to being an asshole.
Clicking out, my thumb hovered the dreaded voice mail app. Twelve new messages. One from Kal, my brother; one from dad; and ten from my lovely mother. Were any regarding the murder? Had she found out? Not likely. The messages would be quadruple in amount. I inhaled deeply. I’ll start with Mom. Just get it over with. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. I tapped her first message.
“Jennie! The Anderson sisters just told me that Trixie, the florist, told them that you’re pregnant! I can’t believe—” I quickly clicked out before she finished.
Obviously, the Band-Aid metaphor sucks. I slapped my forehead, groaning. Shelly must’ve spilled about my fake being pregnant excuse to get back into Enzo’s. Minus the fake part. How stupid of me to not think it’d come full circle to shoot me in the foot. The invisible gossip drones with ultra-powerful hearing that zipped around small towns loved to zero in on the words dating, pregnant, and DUI. Apply one of those to a single chick, and you’ve got yourself a hit. The rest of Mom’s calls were about the pregnant rumor, her voice growing louder than the last. I simply sent a text saying:
-My oven isn’t baking any buns now nor in the foreseeable future.
She immediately replied -I nearly had a heart attack! But just in case, I’ll leave the baby registry open at Tammie’s Toddlers. Of course, she would. Dad was next.
“Hey there, pumpkin. Heads up, your mother is going a bit cuckoo in that noggin of hers over some silly talk that you’re, um… well… that you’re pregnant. Which you’re not, right? Not that I’d be upset if you are because you can tell me anything. And… and maybe we can all meet the… um… father.” He cleared his throat, mumbling something before just hanging up. Oh, for the love of caramelized bacon. This is getting ridiculous.
-Not preggers. You can put the shotgun away, I answered back to ease him. Lastly, I moved on to Kal.
“If a woman named Felicity asks you where I was last night, say you and I were watching movies at your place. Appreciate it!” I followed that up with -You’re a moron.
Family fun time over, I dropped facedown on the couch. Stomach blissfully stuffed of burger and onion rings, I was pretty sure a nap was in order to help with digestion. That’s true, isn’t it? No sooner had my eyes closed and blackness hugged my brain than a dream began to unfold.
Chapter Ten
The scene opened to me sitting at a table in Enzo’s. The room was dim. Windows lining it revealed the darkened sky. Candles were centered on each white-clothed surface, as well as shiny silverware. Despite the beautiful and intimate ambiance, a nervous sweat prickled my spine. For some reason, I already knew I wasn’t going to like where this was going.
Suddenly, Caleb appeared, sitting across from me.
His devilishly handsome face partially shadowed, he smiled, hunger gleaming in his eyes. Okay, maybe I do like where this is going. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, hair gelled and styled to sexiest-man-alive perfection. His wolfish grin sent tingles throughout my body. Boldly, he slowly drank me in, from midtorso to hair—which was in a neat, curly twist. Crystal earrings dangled from my earlobes, matching the necklace that sat atop the two raised basketballs that were my boobs. Holy freakin’ cannoli. The girls were disproving the shit out of the laws of gravity. Heat spread across my face. The deep purple dress left nothing to the imagination. Discreetly, not really, I pulled up the daring neckline. Nip-slips were so not on the menu tonight. I glanced around to see we were the only occupants in the dining area.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I reserved the entire place,” Caleb says smoothly, clasping my hand lightly. “I wanted us to be… alone. Is that all right?”
“Uh, yeah. It is,” I reply. He and I are finally on a date. Granted, my location of choice wouldn’t be Enzo’s, but I can overlook that by the effort he put in. I sure as hell hope the kitchen was scrubbed clean with bleach. Wait, does this mean the investigation is over? A date that doubled as a celebration of solving the murder? If so, who killed—
“Relax,” Caleb instructed, pressing his lips to the back of my hand, then to the knuckles. “There’s nothing to worry about. Focus on us. On this.” The kisses continued, causing my breathing to hitch. His words and actions were like two different paths, and I had to choose one to take. Either follow those soft lips on a trail that’ll lead to a toe-curling night, or push why there wasn’t anything to worry about by bombarding him with questions about Anthony and Luca. But this is a harmless dream. Issues happening in the real world can’t reach me here. My meddlesome subconscious needed to sit the hell down. The answer on choosing which path was easy. Caleb looked past me, waving.
“I signaled the waiter over. Now we can order dinner already,” he says.
I choose food!
“Wine too,” he promises.
“Perfect.” I smile, completely giving in. Proving such by sliding my high-heeled foot up his leg. Caleb winks then turns his attention to the waiter, who stops to set menus in front of us.
“So sorry I hadn’t provided these sooner,” an accented voice says.
My heart stops. I know that voice. No, no, no, no, no, no, no—
“Miss? What do you care to drink this evening? How about a nice aged red?”
It’s Anthony.
My jaw drops, eyes widening at the sight of him, a scream building inside me. He held out a wine bottle, his hands covered in blood, skin entirely pale, lips purple. He’s effing dead and offering me wine! I slap a hand over my mouth, hiding a gag as I stare at the giant red hole going through his chest. The horrid red fluid drips from Anthony’s hands and onto my plate.
“Babe, you okay?” Caleb asks, oblivious to my dead boss. “Don’t you want wine?”
“You’re seriously not seeing this?” Panic rising, I point to Anthony. Caleb looks confused, then smiles brightly.
“Oh, I know! This’ll make you feel better, baby.” He shoots to his feet, whips off his tie, and begins stripping off his jacket while gyrating to a non-existent beat. “You like what you see, babe?” More hip thrusting. Belt released, he strikes the table with it. What a sad, sad train wreck. However, I can’t look away. Caleb jumps onto the table, making the whole damn thing shake. He rips open his shirt, causing a rainfall of buttons to pour on me.
“Please, stop,” I croak. Under different circumstances I probably would’ve enjoyed this but not while Anthony, in all his corpsey glory, stands nearby, egging Caleb on.
“Your boyfriend has fantastic moves!” he shouts gleefully. Are those dollar bills in his hands?
“Did somebody call the cops?” Caleb swings his shirt in the air, flinging it on Anthony’s head. He then drops a pair of handcuffs in my lap and tucks his detective badge in his trousers, right above his crotch—just inches above my face. “Get ready for the most outrageously sexy lap dance in the entire world.”
Okay, party stops now.