We start in and Debbie’s blonde ponytail whips my way.
“So what’s it like?” she asks. “You know, having two men pawing all over you.”
“They’re not pawing all over me.” I turn to give Carlotta the stink eye before she can come up with some salty quip, and I catch what’s under the apron swinging freely.
“But still”—Debbie blows a stray hair from her face—“it has to feel good. I can’t even get one man to look at me.”
“That’s not true,” Naomi pipes up. “You have an entire line of men, gorgeous men, lining up to date you.”
“Date me? Or my father’s money?”
I wince at the mention of the deceased. “I’m sorry for your loss.” I realize how disingenuous it must seem as I ramp up my speed on the bicycle to keep time with the music.
She nods. “It’s why I’m here. I just need to get my mind off of it for a while. I don’t know who did this.” She glances to Naomi. “And I don’t think it was Keelie. Poor thing. She’s about to have a baby. The last thing she needs is to be a part of a murder investigation. Murder.” She shudders.
A furry little head with long, floppy ears pops up between my handlebars and an all-out shriek streams from me.
“Oh my God, Bruiser! You scared me,” I pant with zero regard to the crowd around me.
“What?” Debbie shouts up over the music.
Bruiser bleats my way and sounds like a crying child.
“Mom?” Evie gets my attention. “Did you just say Bruiser?”
Carlotta bobs her head. “I’m afraid she’s cycling too hard, honey. Lottie’s not used to this type of aerobic activity.”
Naomi snorts. “That’s right. She prefers another aerobic activity entirely.”
“Good grief,” I grunt.
Debbie laughs. “I’m sorry, Lottie. It’s just that it feels good to have a nice chuckle. Things have been real tough. Dad’s attorneys are doing their best to process everything, but my father’s many ex-wives are already lawyering up.”
“I’m sure he has a will,” I offer it as if it were some big consolation.
“Oh, he does.” Debbie wipes the sweat from her brow. “But with the legal barracudas circling, we know it will most likely be contested if the legal tender doesn’t get distributed the way they want it to. Money just seems to complicate everything.”
“And I guess he had his share of enemies.”
She nods. “Money buys you many of those for free.”
Bruiser bleats again, “Ask her which enemy would be so brazen to off him that way in the middle of the afternoon, in the middle of his own hooome.”
I nod. “Which enemy do you think was brazen enough to kill the poor man in the middle of the afternoon, in the middle of his own home?”
Bruiser brays and grins so wide I can see all of his adorable chunky teeth.
Debbie blows out another quick breath. “I don’t know. Jenson, my stepbrother, was there. He said he was talking to Analise at the time. They had a history. Analise might know something I don’t. She’s a wild card. I tried to warn him. She’s younger than me, if you can believe it. And she’s an idiot. My father didn’t care about her brain cells, though. All he wanted was arm candy. He was essentially buying a wife. He would have eventually traded her in as well.” She narrows her gaze as if she were having a private thought.
“See that?” Bruiser suddenly glows with a lime green aura I’ve never seen before. “She’s guilty as sin, Lottie. Call Noah and have her arrested. But not before I can finish the rest of that blueberry pie. I never knew berries could taste so delicious. And that peach cobbler was divine. Ooh, and that chocolate pecan pie?” He flops backward and pretends to faint.
A quiet laugh bounces through me. That chocolate pecan pie is a little out of season, considering it’s a holiday favorite, but Everett really loves it. And once that man moans over something, well, everything in me demands to give him more.
Debbie pauses from her frantic cycling a moment. “To be honest, I’m disappointed the sheriff’s department hasn’t made an arrest yet. I mean, Analise should have been dragged down to Ashford and waterboarded until she coughed up everything she knew. I warned my father about her. One of her old boyfriends was in that mob family—the Lazzaris.”
Carlotta perks up, and yet some parts of her simply refuse to perk up at all. Carlotta dated Luke Lazzari, the big kahuna of the mobster crime scene, way back when. In the past, I’ve dealt with both the Lazzaris and the Canellis. And to be honest, I don’t want to deal with either of them again.
“Uncle Luke?” Evie shouts over the music as she looks our way. Luke Lazzari was the one that found Evie and brought her to Everett. Once we found out Everett’s crazy ex was hiding a child, it was all hands on deck to find her, even the dicey illegal hands.
Debbie shakes her head. “His nephew, I think. Anyway, I warned my father they were dangerous people—that Analise was a toxin, and now he’s dead.”
I cock my head to the side. “So you think someone took a hit out on him?”
“Probably. I mean, to your point it was a brazen killing. Not really a woman’s style, unless the woman was the hitman.”
Naomi nods. “And she’d have to be a good shot. Keelie was standing feet away from him. She and her baby could have easily been killed, too.”
My blood boils just thinking about it. I’m going to nail the killer to a wall, and if it was a hired hand, I’m going to nail the person who okayed the hit to a wall as well. How dare they almost off my bestie and that baby bear brewing in her belly.
Bruiser grunts and snorts as he floats through the air, moving his legs back and forth like a miniature reindeer.
“You look good and maaad, Lottie. I heard Lily say that you bake when you’re in a moood. Could I possibly put in a request for more of those scrumptious little cake pops? They’re so smooth, so creamy. I ate an entire bowl of them yesterday without stopping.”
I give a quick thumbs-up his way.
“Hey, Debbie?” I lean in. “Where do you think I can find Analise these days? Do you think she’s home in mourning?”
“Ha!” Debbie averts her eyes. “More like down at Midnight Moonshine. It’s some seedy western bar in Leeds.”
“Ooh!” Naomi raises a hand. I’ve been there. It’s line dancing nonstop, and the guys are real gentlemen. It’s odd that way.”
“Midnight Moonshine,” I whisper under my breath.
I have a feeling I’m about to get real familiar with line dancing, and perhaps a killer.
Chapter 6
The Midnight Moonshine Bar and Grill is located in the sweaty, smelly armpit of Leeds.
I take that back. All of Leeds is a sweaty, smelly armpit. But I suppose if you were to get anatomical, this little western dive bar might be better suited for the end of the alimentary canal where the sewage meets the road.
It’s just Carlotta, Keelie, Bear, and me at the moment, standing right outside of this questionable establishment, taking in the night air as we pause to look up at the glittering neon cowboy boots that stretch fifty feet into the sky. It’s a simmering hot June night, and the scent of sour milk and old fries lingers in the air as we take a moment before stepping inside.
Keelie wasn’t at all thrilled she couldn’t come with me earlier to Swift Cycle, or as she calls it the Swift Sting Operation. So when she heard I was doing something as entertaining as line dancing, she quickly donned her western gear.
Both Noah and Everett are working late tonight, but they said they’d stop by on their way home. Evie wanted to tag along, but I had to explain that there were laws against minors in places like this. And she explained right back to me that she had connections with certain people who ruled the city, who could land her in any club at any time to do anything.
I couldn’t argue with her. Luke Lazzari could most certainly make all of those illicit things happen. In fact, he did on the very first night he helped her escape from Ellington, her former boarding school, whi
ch she likened to a penitentiary. For instance, Luke delivered her straight to Red Satin, the strip club where my sister, Meg, works.
Meg isn’t actually a stripper. She simply teaches those wayward women their moneymaking moves. Meg used to work the wrestling circuit back in Vegas, and that’s where a majority of her experience in that arena comes from. Nevertheless, Evie is home alone with my sweet cats, and I have a sneaking suspicion there will be a little more to the story once I get back. I should have instated a no boys rule.
I pluck out my phone to do just that when Carlotta intercepts me.
“No can do, Lot Lot. We’re here to have a good time.”
Keelie rubs her enormous belly. “A rootin’ tootin’ good time.”
Her fiancé Bear growls at the doors that lead to this den of depravity. Bear is as tall, burly, and barrel-chested as his nickname suggests. He’s got dirty blond hair and the beginning of a summer tan from all the time he spends outdoors. Keelie says he’s overseeing three major contracting projects. I suppose that’s why the repairs to Nell’s old house have landed on the back burner.
A spray of stars lights up the night and the form of an older woman appears before me, and in her arms lies the ghostly outline of a cute little miniature goat that I could just eat right up. Nell and Bruiser don’t even bother to fully materialize. Instead, Nell gives a slight wave as she walks right through the door—right through thick mahogany to be exact—as they make their way inside.
Keelie picks up the sides of her tented denim dress and waddles side to side.
“Let’s get inside. I’ve got to pee, eat, and dance, in exactly that order. I can’t wait to get my two-step on. I just wish I could have squeezed these sausages I call feet into my old cowboy boots. I feel ridiculous wearing flip-flops to a place like this.”
Bear grunts, “Don’t worry, babe. I’m in construction boots. And I can assure you, nobody is going to give us a tough time.” He lifts his arm and makes his biceps dance, which, in turn, makes Keelie do an odd little shuffle.
“Oh!” She stops short. “I think I just tinkled.”
We shuffle her in as quickly as we can, and Keelie disappears to the restroom while the rest of us crane our necks, taking in the establishment.
Neon lights blaze in every direction. It’s spacious inside, wall-to-wall bodies, the twang of country music proliferates through the air, and everyone in front of us looks as if they’re partaking in some choreographed dance.
Bear moans, “What have you gotten me into, Lottie?”
A tiny laugh bubbles from me. “Is this too latent to be considered revenge?”
He lifts a brow. “For cheating on you? Boy, you really know how to hold a grudge.”
“Just wait until you see what I have planned if you don’t fix Nell’s old place.”
He lifts a finger. “Duly noted.”
Keelie waddles back out, and a waitress seats us at a round table near the back. There’s a bar that lines the entire right side of the restaurant, and there’s a swarm of bodies smashed together—women in short denim skirts, men in flannel shirts, and there are cowboy boots on just about everybody. I pulled out my own boots tonight, a caramel and turquoise delight that I picked up a few years back. I’ve donned my tightest blue jeans and a red and pink checkered flannel, which Evie quickly unbuttoned in all the right places and cinched into a knot just above my belly.
A waitress comes by and we order enough food to feed fifty people and proceed to graze our way through it. Everything from baby back ribs to coleslaw, fresh baked cornbread, and collard greens abounds, and I don’t let a single delicious bite get away from me.
A hard groan comes from my throat. “My jeans are so tight it’s going to take a team to get them off me.”
A dark laugh expels from Carlotta. “You’re in luck. I know two men who’ll volunteer for the effort.”
Keelie snorts. “Lottie Lemon, the last thing you need to worry about is who will help you take off your jeans at night.”
“That’s right,” a friendly voice trills from somewhere near the ceiling, and I glance up to find a supernatural spectacle floating above the table.
“Nell!” I gasp at the sight of her staring down at us, her limbs floating alongside her as if she were face down in a large body of water.
Keelie gasps as well but for an entirely different reason. “You did it again! Lottie, you’re not really using Grandma Nell’s name like some salty curse word, are you?”
“Me? No way.” I shake my head up at Nell just to make things clear. “I just”—I glance to my left, relieved to see Noah heading this way, his dimples digging in deep the moment he sees me. “Noah Corbin Fox.” I hop out of my seat and latch onto him. “You’ve got perfect timing.” I plant a kiss right over his lips, and that smile of his grows ten times in size.
“You’ve got perfect kisses. What did I miss? Have you questioned anybody yet?”
I make a face. “Are my moves that obvious?”
“They are to me. We think the same. We’re practically the same person.”
My insides twinge when he says it. “That’s exactly what Britney said about us at Swift Cycle.”
His eyes widen a moment at the mention of his ex, but before the entire conversation goes sideways, I land him a seat next to mine and throw some ribs onto his plate.
The food here is served family style and there is plenty left for six more people. Before Noah has a chance to finish, I spot Analise Johansson looking like a blonde sex siren in the night. She’s dipped herself in a red latex dress that looks as if she’ll need nail polish remover to take it off.
Carlotta follows my gaze. “Hey, Keelie? Isn’t that the girl you threatened to kill?”
Keelie looks that way and gasps. “Yup, that’s her, Aunt Carlotta. I guess the bad news is that she won’t be getting a wedding after all. But on the bright side, the blush pink Veragamo wedding dress is still on the table for a cool ten grand.”
A sharp whistling noise expels from Bear once he hears the price tag, and Noah quickly slaps him on the back.
Keelie stands and plucks Bear out of his seat. “Come on, old man. You might be getting out of paying for a pricey wedding gown, but you’re not getting out of shredding it up on the dance floor with those sexy construction boots of yours.” She gives a wink my way. “You’d better get out there, too.” She nudges her head in Analise’s direction, over by the bar.
“Come on, Noah,” I say, grabbing him by the hand. “We’ve got a suspect to question.”
“Don’t forget me!” Carlotta skips on over, and before we hit the bar she’s shockingly shed her sweater.
“What are you doing?” I squawk at the sight of her—for lack of a better word— love grenades. “This isn’t your bedroom. And this isn’t Swift Cycle. There are men here, you overheated lunatic,” I say, trying to place that sweater back over her head, but she manages to wrestle it away from me.
“Calm down, Miss High and Mighty.” She pulls her sweater to her chest. “I’ve got one of those sports bra do-hickeys on. I checked with Scarlet Sage, and she said it was perfectly acceptable to wear this out in public.” She pulls her sweater away, and both Noah and I let out a scream of sorts because—well, there’s not a sporty thing in sight.
I glance to her sweater and find the sports bra tangled up in the white furry mess.
“Newsflash, you’re not wearing the bra. It’s getting along a little too well with that white mop you were wearing.”
She flaps her arms like a bird taking flight. “I thought I felt a breeze.”
“Carlotta,” Noah says it firmly. “Put your clothes back on, or I’ll be forced to arrest you for public nudity.”
A husky laugh vibrates through her. “Only if you promise to go slow with the handcuffs.”
“Gah!” I pluck the sweater from her arms and smack her. “You may not hit on my man!”
“Which one?” she teases. “You’ve got a surplus.”
A spray of light pink min
iature stars erupts to my right as Nell crops up.
“She’s got you there.” Her disembodied voice trills with laughter.
I take up Noah’s hand. “Nell’s here.” I give a quick look around and spot the miniature goat glowing a shade of crimson as he sits on the bar next to Analise, and from here it looks as if he’s gnawing on her hair. Oh, wait. He is. “Bruiser’s here, too.” I wrinkle my nose up at Noah. “He’s the goat.” I shrug.
“The goat.” He nods. “Of course, he is. He’s also dead, I’m assuming.”
“That’s because you’re a good detective,” I say. “Carlotta, get dressed or get a free ride to the pokey.”
She struggles to get her sweater on as quickly as possible.
“Hot flash just finished, and now it feels like the dead of winter,” she shivers the words out. “I’m telling you there’s no in-between. It’s hellfire or Arctic tundra. Just you wait, Lottie Dottie, until you hit the big ol’ men-o-pause.” She smacks her lips my way. “Who are we kidding? You’re not pausing a thing with the men anytime soon.”
Nell chortles as if she couldn’t get enough. “Oh, my sweet Carlotta, how I’ve missed your sense of humor.” She heads over and links arms with a now sweater-clad Carlotta and they begin to chitchat.
But I don’t stick around to play fashion police or supernatural police with Carlotta. I figure with Nell around she’s in good hands, even if they are invisible to all those in the room.
Instead, I squeeze my way past a man in a dark blue flannel that reeks of cheap whiskey as I get in close to Analise.
Noah orders a beer from the bar and I do the same. I get the feeling it’s a requirement if you’re going to stand here like a cinder block. I bump my shoulder to Analise just to get the party started.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say as I glance over, making sure I didn’t spill the fruity concoction she’s nursing over her plastic accouterment.
She waves it off before lifting her drink to her lips, but doesn’t give me the time of day otherwise.
I lean over to Noah’s ear. “Hit on her.”
“What?” He winces. “Lottie, I was the one that questioned her.”
Cake Pop Casualties (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 22) Page 5