Fearsome Foursome

by Pierce, Nicolette

  He didn’t seem mad about the forgotten dinner.

  “I missed you,” I said.

  He held out his arm for me to cuddle into, ignoring the waiting men. “I missed you too.”

  “I know you’re busy, but have you seen my laptop?”

  “I saw it on the table earlier.”

  “That’s where I thought it was too, but it’s gone.”

  “Maybe Emily borrowed it.”

  Of course. Her “borrowing” had led to many missing items since her arrival.

  “Hey, buddy,” the first man in line said. “Can I get inside? I’m freezing my nuts off out here.”

  Brett ignored him, but I couldn’t, not with my guest services background. “I’ll talk to you at home.” I stepped away.

  “Wait,” he said. “I wanted to apologize for falling asleep.” At my confused expression, he added, “I thought I could take a quick nap before we went out for dinner, but it ended up being a long one. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  Ah. Well, that was a lucky happenstance.

  “You need your sleep. I kept busy over at Mrs. Janowski’s house. She made sandwiches.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Hey, buddy. Are you deaf? I want to see the girls.”

  I backed away. The slightly older man was a bit rough around the edges and clearly wasn’t intimidated by Brett.

  “Did you read the sign?” Brett asked simply.

  “What sign?”

  Brett jabbed at a sign at the door. “No weapons allowed.”

  “What about it?” the guy asked.

  “Lock your gun in the trunk of your car, and then you can go in.”

  “I’m not carrying.”

  I scanned the man and didn’t see a gun.

  “You don’t want me to search you,” Brett said. “Just follow the rules.”

  “What if she does the searching?” The man pointed at me with an oily smile that made me retreat behind Brett. “I’ll follow her rules if she follows mine.”

  Ew.

  Thankfully, T stepped outside at that moment. No one messed with T. I’m pretty sure it had to do with the tarantula tattoo on his neck that moved when he talked.

  “Can you take over for a bit while I talk to Mars?” Brett asked.

  “Yeah,” T replied, as if he’d expected to find me glued to Brett’s back. “How you doing, Mars?”

  “Good. How about you?”

  “Been better.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Emmy’s upset. I haven’t heard two words from her since yesterday.”

  I stared at him. “And do you have any idea why?”

  “None.”

  “She hasn’t mentioned anything to you at all?”

  “No, why? Do you know something?”

  “Yeah, and you might want to start listening to Emmy.”

  “How can I listen if she’s not talking?”

  “Hey, jackass! I want to go inside.”

  T sent the man a lethal glare that would have me running in the other direction. “Read the damn sign. No weapons.”

  Did they see something I didn’t? I studied the man, looking for suspicious bulges but couldn’t detect anything.

  Brett swung his arm around me. “I think T’s got this.” He steered us into the club where it was warm. “You don’t mind, do you? Your toes have to be freezing.” He pointed to my flip-flops.

  They were, but I’d rather have them fall off than go inside. But since I was corralled by his arm, I went anyway and tried not to be a prude. But, as a prude, I trained my eyes on the floor, the ceiling, the walls.

  He led me to a spot in the far corner where a tall booth blocked most views. I sat on the side that faced the wall and not the happenings behind me. Brett, however, could still see everything, which I didn’t like. Since his eyes didn’t drift to the stage, I let it go.

  “Put your feet up,” he said, tapping his leg.

  “They’re ice.”

  “I know. I’ll help warm them up, sweet thing.”

  Not arguing, I plopped them up on his lap and proceeded to lose all thought as his deliriously toasty hands kneaded and soothed.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said.

  “Me too. If I had known this night would end in a foot rub, I would’ve come earlier.”

  “Hopefully T and I will only have to do this for a few more nights. Emily is busy trying to hire new recruits. By the sound of it, she’s creating an army. I can honestly say I don’t care how much the overhead will cost. I just want to spend more time with you.”

  I smiled. Brett was always generous with his words, and I appreciated it. A part of me needed to hear him say such things.

  The cuddly bubble I was floating in popped when I heard a sickly sweet voice. “Hi, Brett.”

  I looked up at the girl standing next to Brett, thankful that she wore three tiny triangles that covered bits and pieces.

  She was young. Way too young to work in a place like this. I tried to guess her age.

  “What can I do for you, Cinnamon?” Brett asked.

  Cinnamon? I guess strippers had to use a fake name. I sighed, knowing mine would be Cheesecake.

  Cinnamon dragged her gaze away from Brett to study me, then returned her focus to Brett with a practiced pout from her cinnamon-colored lips. “Can you check the dressing room for me again?”

  She had a dressing room? For what? She wasn’t wearing anything except for string and postage stamps. I was pretty sure she didn’t need a room for that.

  “Sure.” Brett stood, knocking my feet to the floor.

  Dropped like a bag of rocks. If he hadn’t leaned over to kiss me and murmur that he’d be right back, I’d have had a serious case of molting, ruffled feathers.

  Instead, I sat back and tried to ignore the happenings around me.

  But, something felt off. And it wasn’t just the general lack of clothes.

  I turned to peek out when my head was nearly lopped off by three seniors piling into the booth with me.

  “What are you doing here?” I questioned.

  “We got information from Bob and Mac.” Mrs. Janowski rapped on the table. “They squealed like pigeons.”

  I thought that was a mixed metaphor but let it slide. I was more interested in what Bob and Mac had to say.

  “We did not squeal!” Bob blustered behind the girls, making them all squeal. There certainly was a lot of squealing, and I still had no idea what was going on.

  “What are you doing here?” Mrs. Janowski demanded. “This is Fearsome Foursome business.”

  “We have a right to help our friend,” Mac stated. He pressed his lips together so tight I couldn’t even see them behind his beard.

  “You mean Hank,” Sylvia said. “We are trying to help Ida.”

  “Hank said she killed Wade,” Bob said.

  “And we believe him,” Mac added.

  “He doesn’t have proof,” Mrs. Janowski said.

  “A dead body on his property is proof enough,” Bob said.

  “Still no evidence,” Sylvia countered.

  Bob scowled.

  Mrs. Janowski crossed her arms, staring down her nose at him.

  Brett returned, looking very confused. “What did I miss?”

  “Hank sent Ida to jail,” Mrs. Janowski said.

  “Yeah, because she killed Wade!” Bob barked.

  Brett put his hands on his hips. “Who is Wade, and why would Ida kill him?”

  “There’s no proof!” Sylvia stated.

  Brett eyed the opposing sides and then me. I shrugged. It didn’t seem like picking a side would be wise at this moment.

  Brett scratched his jaw before asking, “Can I at least get the bullet points of what happened?”

  Mrs. Janowski straightened as she held up her index finger. “First, Ida has been officially charged with murder. Second,” she held up two fingers, “without a whiff of proof, these bozos think she did it. Just because Hank says somethin
g doesn’t make it true.”

  There was a bit of an uproar from the boys, but Brett quieted them. “You’ll get your chance to speak.”

  “Three,” Mrs. Janowski continued, “The Fearsome Foursome will prove her innocence . . . or find sufficient evidence that she was defending herself. Four,” she let her hand drop, “we ran into a snag.”

  “What snag?” I asked.

  “She waived her right to legal counsel.”

  Waived her right? Did she want the proverbial book thrown at her?

  Whatever happened all those years ago, she was doing her best to make sure no one found out.

  Chapter 11

  I sat up in the strip club booth, stunned by Mrs. Janowski’s revelation. “Why would she waive legal counsel?”

  Mrs. Janowski frowned. “Something bad happened all those years ago. I don’t know what, but we intend to find out. Ida needs our help whether she wants it or not.”

  “What’s your plan?” I asked.

  “That’s another snag. All of our leads are dead. The only people alive who knew Wade are Hank and Ida.”

  “It’s not right.” Sylvia slapped the table. “Ida won’t talk, and Hank is spouting lies.”

  “He wouldn’t lie!” Mac snapped. “He’s a straight shooter.”

  “Ida wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’s as docile as a mouse,” Edna said, finally getting in on the conversation. But docile wasn’t quite Ida.

  “With her waspish tongue?” Mac raised his brows. “She’s half-drunk all day long.”

  “But she doesn’t kill,” Mrs. Janowski said.

  Bob had dropped from the conversation. His focus lingered on me.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Your necklace. Have you worn it before?”

  “No, I found it earlier today. Why?”

  “It struck me as familiar but also not quite right.” He shook his head. “I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “I thought the same too,” Sylvia said.

  “Me too,” Mac agreed.

  “I found it on the lot,” I said. “Maybe it belonged to someone you know.”

  Edna squeaked, her eyes rounded as she pointed to the necklace. “Oh, my goodness! I knew it looked out of place. That belongs to Hank and Ida’s daughter. She wore it in nearly every photo I ever saw of her.”

  Now that Edna mentioned it, I had seen a picture of the daughter. Lifting the necklace to inspect it, Edna was right.

  “Where is she?” I asked. “I’ll deliver it to her tomorrow.”

  Mac shook his head. “None of us have ever met her. She was long gone when Bob and I started going to the Hog.”

  I looked to the girls, but they all shook their heads too.

  “So, we are all friends with Hank and Ida, but no one has met the daughter?”

  A general chorus of no’s answered me.

  “What’s her name?” I asked.

  Mrs. Janowski’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know that either. They don’t talk about her much.”

  “When they do, they only refer to her as ‘our daughter,’” Bob added.

  Mrs. Janowski looked to Bob. “Do you think?”

  “Think what?”

  “The daughter,” Mrs. Janowski started, pausing for a moment. “Could she be why Ida is staying silent? She would’ve known Wade.”

  Mac clucked his tongue. “But she would’ve been just a girl at the time.”

  “Do you think she knows what’s happened?” I asked. “Maybe she can get through to Ida. Where is she now?”

  No one said anything until Mrs. Janowski perked up. “Well, I think we all know what needs to happen now.”

  “Go home,” Brett suggested.

  Mac ignored the suggestion and pulled out a stack of singles from his pocket. “We could stay.”

  “No, we have to go find her,” Mrs. Janowski said. “Since Ida is currently unavailable, we’ll need to talk to Hank. Shake him for information.”

  “There’ll be no shaking, especially not tonight,” I said. “Let’s sleep on it and regroup tomorrow.”

  “She’s right,” Edna said. “Hank needs time to cool down. We’ll be better prepared to start this tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Janowski’s shoulders slumped forward. “You’re probably right. No sense in chasing our tails. We’ll resume at nine tomorrow.”

  “I’ll bring donuts,” Edna said.

  “Don’t you dare,” Sylvia scolded. “I’m watching my figure.”

  “You can watch it expand, because I want donuts,” Edna sniffed. “You know I like to nibble when I’m nervous.”

  “Will you be free tomorrow, Mars?” Mrs. Janowski asked.

  “I’m sure I can squeeze in some time.” Especially for donuts. Edna had the right idea.

  Mac also looked as if he was going to volunteer his services in exchange for donuts. Bob elbowed him. “Time to go.”

  Mac fanned his singles. “Can I get rid of these first?” He looked to the stage. “I know just who to give them to.”

  His gaze lingered on Cinnamon. She was currently dancing and staring pointblank—not at the man about to shower her with singles—but at Brett.

  Of course.

  Thankfully, Brett didn’t seem to notice and was more interested in his watch.

  “Don’t bother, Mac,” Sylvia said, noticing what I had. “The girl set her sights higher.” She leaned over to whisper to me, “Take your man home now. Make sure he knows who owns his ass. His tight, gorgeous ass.”

  “There are times you remind me of Rand,” I said.

  Edna yawned. “Well, I’m going home to bed. I’ve seen enough.” She swatted Mrs. Janowski. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming here.”

  They scooted from the booth, said their farewells, and walked to the door. Edna, like me, kept her eyes on safe zones. Mrs. Janowski scoped out the room, I suspected for security systems. And Sylvia, well, she trailed far behind at half speed, flirting with every man in her path. Unfortunately, that included T as well.

  “We’ll go as soon as my money runs out,” Mac said to Bob.

  “Only if I can help you with that,” Bob said, snatching the singles.

  When Bob headed to the stage, Mac pulled out another stack of bills from his pocket. He turned to slyly wink at me and then trotted after Bob.

  With that kind of cash, they’d be here until closing.

  “Looks like it’s just us again,” I said to Brett, but I could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. He muttered something and took off to where T stood. Mrs. Janowski had just pried Sylvia off T when Brett arrived.

  After a few moments of nods and exchanged words, Brett came back to the booth but didn’t sit down. “Sorry about that.”

  “That’s okay. You’re at work.” I stood, understanding my welcome had been revoked. “I should go home and sleep. Sounds like the Fearsome Foursome will have a busy day tomorrow. And you have a couple of hours left here too. Will I see you in the morning?” I stepped closer. “I can be late to the meeting if you want to spend some time together.” I trailed an inviting finger down his bicep. God, I nearly forgot how much I loved touching his arms.

  “I don’t think I’m going to make it home tonight. T and I are working on a project after the club closes.”

  I let my hand fall to my side. “But you have to sleep.”

  “I’ll take a nap if I’m tired. Emily bought a couch for my office.”

  “Oh.”

  He kissed my forehead. “I have to get back out front. But I can walk you to your car.”

  I nodded.

  Office? I never once saw his office and Emily was buying furniture for it?

  That didn’t seem right.

  * * *

  I woke up the next morning to find my house empty. Brett stayed true to his word and didn’t come home.

  Neither did Emily.

  And where did Cinnamon sleep?

  Since I was due over at Mrs. Janowski’s house, I shoved disturbing thoughts to the back of my head
. There were other things to focus on. Plus, I knew Brett. He wouldn’t cheat on me. I just had to remember that.

  When I arrived at Mrs. Janowski’s house, I found the girls were busy at work. Edna poked at her laptop keyboard on the dining room table while Mrs. Janowski scribbled on a whiteboard. Sylvia had one ear to the phone and one finger stuck in the opposite ear to block out the noises of Edna huffing and clicking, and Mrs. Janowski mumbling as she drew lines on the board.

  “Any news?” I asked.

  Mrs. Janowski turned. “Oh, Mars! Glad you’re here. We have a lot to do today.”

  “I can stay for a couple of hours, but Rand called a meeting later about the menu.”

  “Menu? Does that mean Jack will be there?”

  “Possibly. Rand didn’t tell me.”

  “Well, if he’s at the meeting, can you smooth talk your way into his mom’s name? Be creative.”

  “His mom?” I hadn’t thought of that before. Jack never talked about his mom. “I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable asking.”

  “We’re at a dead-end. Hank hung up on Sylvia twice and Edna once.”

  “What about you?”

  “He turned off his phone.”

  “Mrs. J, I don’t think we should ask Jack about his past. There were obviously some issues. No one talks about his mom.”

  “We need to find her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she is our only other link to Wade. Something happened to rip that family apart. She knows something.”

  I rubbed my arm, considering. “We should leave them alone. If Ida doesn’t want a lawyer, it means she has accepted her fate. I’m all for helping, but not if it means digging through a past that everyone wants to stay buried.” When Edna squeaked, I cringed. “Sorry, bad choice of words.”

  “She’s just a little jumpy,” Mrs. Janowski said. “The cause of death was just released. Edna was just looking it up.” She turned to Edna. “Did you finally get that damn machine to work?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And?”

  “I can’t say it out loud,” Edna said.

  Sylvia leaned over to look at the screen. “From the markings, they’ve concluded that his throat was slit.” She cringed. “Sounds like a horrible way to go.”

  Mrs. Janowski crinkled her nose. “Are you sure you’re reading that right? Where are your reading glasses?”