by Ellie Ashe
I started the bike, pulled into the strip mall’s parking lot and parked. Then I walked into the coffee shop on the corner, taking my helmet off as I entered the cafe. The Bean & Biscuit coffee shop had large plate glass windows that looked out directly on the front of Red Silk Ribbon, a very expensive lingerie shop that catered to the city’s elite. I’d shopped there a couple times, but had yet to buy anything. Paralegals were not the target demographic for the pricey silky underthings.
The reflections on the shop’s windows obscured my view of the inside of the Red Silk Ribbon. I ordered an ice tea and a snickerdoodle cookie that was the size of my head and settled into the seat by the window, watching for Eddie.
I couldn’t go over there without revealing myself to him. And walking in wearing a black helmet with a tinted face-shade would be far too conspicuous. I reached for my phone. It was time for reinforcements.
She answered her phone on the first ring. “Miranda Vaughn.”
Miranda wasn’t just my best friend. She was also my coworker, providing Rob with the financial expertise for his white-collar criminal cases. Hopefully, she’d abandon her spreadsheets to help me out.
“Hey, what are you doing right now?”
Ten minutes later, Miranda’s dented white Volkswagen GTI, known as the Golf Ball, sputtered to a stop in a parking space in front of the Bean & Biscuit. She found me in the cafe and took the seat across from me.
“What’s our mission?”
Gotta love Miranda. Her personal life may be a mess, but she’s always up for an adventure. And I knew she’d have my back, no matter what. That’s what best friends do.
“Eddie Lucas.”
“You want me to serve him? I haven’t done that before.”
“It’s not hard.”
“I heard what happened on Friday so I don’t believe you.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s in the lingerie shop across the street. If I go over, he’ll run. So either you serve him, or you flush him out and I serve him.”
Miranda smiled and tried to hide a laugh. “I think it’s better if I serve him.”
I pulled the subpoena from the pocket inside my jacket. “He’s faster than he looks.”
“I don’t know why you don’t let Burton do this,” Miranda said, sliding the folded papers into her purse.
“Oh no,” I said. “I can do my own damn job.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. I knew she suspected that I had a crush on Burton Worthington—the tall, dark, and gorgeous investigator who shared the office with us. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure, he was handsome and charming, but he knew it. And he’d never let me live it down if he had to step in and do my job for me. I’d rather chase Eddie Lucas down a hundred alleys than spend the rest of my life hearing Burton bring up how he bailed me out on a simple subpoena service.
“Okay, then, I’ll do your damn job,” Miranda said, then jumped up and moved toward the door before I could react to the dig. I could hear her laughter as she slipped out the door.
Grumbling to myself, I leaned back in my seat and kept my eye on my friend, jogging across the street to Red Silk Ribbon. Miranda looked like the target demographic for the shop—young, professional and stylish. She had her shoulder-length blonde hair in a low, sleek ponytail and she was wearing my favorite summer dress, a pink A-line number that she’d borrowed at least a month ago. I’d complain, but half my closet was filled with Miranda’s clothes that I hadn’t yet returned. Plus, it was better for her coloring.
Miranda disappeared into the shop, and I pulled out my cell phone in case she called for backup. Maybe she’d pick up something she could use to seduce the seriously sexy FBI agent renting the apartment over her garage, finally. She certainly deserved to find a good man, and from what I knew of Special Agent Jake Barnes, he was a decent guy—for a fed. He was certainly an eyeful of awesome and was making our lazy summer days at the pool much more scenic.
A few long minutes passed and then my phone beeped—a text from Miranda.
They’re having a sale on swimsuits.
I frowned and typed my response. Focus. Eddie. Where is he?
Don’t see him in the store.
I leaned forward and saw the green car still in the same parking space. Eddie hadn’t left, at least not in his car. Oh, damn, what if he made me? Could he have slipped out a back door and left with someone else?
The phone beeped again and a photo flashed on the screen—a picture of a blue-and-white-striped cover-up.
This is half off. Cute?
I sighed. Put down the muumuu, and get back to work.
The woman had a sexy federal agent panting after her, and she wanted to cover up? Bad strategy, especially considering she was doing as much panting as he was. Also, she had a job to do. My job, but still.
Moments later, another photo appeared in my text messages—a very tiny teal green bikini.
Better, I texted back. Now where’s Eddie?
Still don’t see him.
The phone in my hand rang, and I saw Miranda’s number pop onto the screen.
“What do you mean he’s not there?”
Miranda’s voice was low. “I looked around. He’s not here.”
I tapped my fingers on the tabletop and thought about that. “Is there a back door?”
“Hold on.” I could hear Miranda moving and a low murmur of women’s voices in the background. “Yeah, and there are two doors past the dressing rooms. One goes outside, but it has an alarm. The other looks like it goes upstairs.”
I frowned again, and instantly my mother’s voice invaded my head, reminding me that my scowl would be memorialized in wrinkles. I shook my head and focused on the store across the street.
“Can you see what’s up there?”
“Not easily. I’ll call you back.”
The line went dead and I gritted my teeth. Could Eddie have spotted me and slipped out earlier? His car was still in the parking lot, so he’d have to walk out of the alley next to the lingerie shop’s building. I sure hadn’t seen anything that looked like a chef sneaking away. Plus, the motorcycle and the gear was a good disguise. I barely resembled the young woman who had accosted him just a couple nights earlier.
Several more minutes passed and I stood, fidgeting in front of the window. Where was Eddie?
Finally, the phone buzzed again.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“He’s upstairs,” Miranda whispered.
“Can you get to him?”
“Pretty sure he’s, uh, busy.”
I paused. “What do you mean?”
“There’s an apartment up here and I think he’s with someone,” she hissed.
“Go back downstairs and wait there. What’s out the back door?” I tossed my empty iced tea cup into the trash and left the cafe.
“Just an alley behind the store. Looks like a couple of reserved parking spaces.”
“Be right there.”
I darted across the street through a break in traffic and walked down the block past the lingerie shop, peering between the buildings. There wasn’t any access to the alley from this street, so I rounded the corner and saw the opening. I found the door Miranda had described and reached for the knob, only to find it locked, and then remembered that Miranda had said it looked like there was alarm on it.
Through a glass window covered with lace, I saw Miranda at the end of a short hallway, still loitering in the shop and glancing back toward the door. That didn’t look suspicious.
I glanced up and down the narrow, empty alley. There was a sporty little red convertible parked behind the lingerie shop with a personalized plate that said “4 Rita.” It was in a reserved spot, I assumed, for Rita. I took my phone out and sent a text to Miranda.
Stay there. When Eddie comes down the stairs, he’ll have to get past you.
Through the lace curtain, I saw Miranda look down at her phone, then up toward me and nod. There was nothing to do but wait for Eddie’s lunch, or tryst,
or whatever, to end. I looked around for some shade in the late-morning sun. There wasn’t much of a shadow as the sun was nearly overhead. To stay cool, I imagined diving into the pool behind Miranda’s house, the refreshing water enveloping me, the weightlessness of being submerged. My imagination didn’t cut through the 100-plus degrees that were baking me. But at least I knew where I’d be heading as soon as that subpoena hit Eddie’s palm.
Minutes ticked by slowly as I waited and hoped that none of the neighbors thought I was casing their houses. It was hard to blend in when I was standing in an empty alley, wearing black riding gear and holding a helmet.
Every once in a while, I saw a glimpse of Miranda or other store patrons browsing inside the air-conditioned shop, but Eddie was still upstairs. Then I heard footsteps inside, probably coming down the staircase. I flattened myself against the wall so the person walking downstairs couldn’t see me, then waited. I expected to hear Eddie put up a fight when Miranda tried to serve him. At least I’d be there and could witness that he’d been served. Assuming the back door wasn’t locked, at least.
After a couple minutes passed and I didn’t hear a commotion, I send Miranda another text. Was that Eddie?
She got back to me nearly instantly. No. The owner came downstairs. Alone.
I peered through the glass and saw a tall red-headed woman with her back to me, her long hair flowing down her back as she held up a skimpy piece of lingerie for a client. I ducked back before they saw me.
Maybe you can sneak upstairs now.
I’ll try.
Good girl. I moved a few feet away to stand in the small strip of shade provided by tall shrub near the corner of the building, sweat trickling between my shoulder blades. Yes, a dip in Miranda’s pool was exactly what I needed. I was still a little sore from the tumble over the hedge on Friday, and a nice long swim would help work out the knot in my shoulders.
I felt, rather than heard, the bang of a door inside the shop. I rushed toward the back door, just as it flew open, smacking my arm and sending me reeling backward. I landed on my ass in the gravel and looked up to see Eddie’s red face gaping in surprise and anger as he recognized me.
“You!”
He barely paused before racing toward the convertible and jumping in Dukes-of-Hazzard style. I scrambled to get up as Miranda raced out of the back door, the subpoena still gripped in her hand, and a shopping bag dangling from her other wrist. I snatched the subpoena and ran toward Eddie, but he threw the car in reverse and backed up, heading toward me.
In that split second, I had to decide whether to dive over the convertible’s trunk and into the backseat, or get out of Eddie’s way. I opted for self-preservation, leaping to one side and stumbling to the ground. The car missed me by inches, then Eddie slammed it into drive.
“Not today, girls!” he yelled as he accelerated, spraying gravel toward me and Miranda, before fishtailing out of the alley.
“Are you all right?” Miranda asked, helping me off the ground.
The crumpled paper in my fist was my answer. That son-of-a-bitch had gotten away again.
I sighed in frustration.
“Sorry,” Miranda said, her face scrunched up. “I thought I had him cornered.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said.
“Why is he so against helping Leo? I thought they were business partners. Wouldn’t it be better for Eddie if Leo wasn’t convicted of arson?” Miranda asked.
“Hey!”
I turned and saw the redheaded woman standing in the back door of the shop. Her eyes squinted at me and Miranda, and her face pulled into a sneer.
“You two are not welcome back here!” she screeched. “Do you understand me?”
Miranda and I exchanged a glance, then shrugged and started walking away, back down the alley where Eddie had just fled. Neither of us could usually afford to shop at the Red Silk Ribbon, so banishment wasn’t the penalty she seemed to think it was. The redhead continued to scream at us, then I heard a door slam behind us.
“Want to see what I bought?” Miranda asked.
“Sure.”
She opened the bag and pulled out a blue bikini with gold ties. If there was a dozen square inches of fabric, I’d be surprised.
“Nice!” I said.
“Yeah, half-off, too.”
A piece of paper fluttered to the ground and I stooped to pick it up. I started to hand it to Miranda, but stopped as I read the flyer in my hand. The Red Silk Ribbon was moving to a new location.
“Did you see this?” I asked.
“I saw the sign at the cash register. They’re moving to a larger space with better parking.”
“Did you see the address?” I asked, a slow grin spreading over my face. “It’s where Leo’s restaurant was.”
Miranda gasped and we turned to each other again.
“Got time to go talk to Leo?” I asked.
“At his food truck?” Miranda asked, her face lighting up at the thought. “I’ll drive.”
3
Leo’s food truck, the unfortunately named Five Alarm Tacos, was easy to find. I’d downloaded his app that kept me updated with his current menu and location. As Miranda drove the Golf Ball across town, I gave directions to a shady parking lot near the university where Leo was scheduled to serve up his unique brand of tacos until mid-afternoon.
Even though we arrived before the lunch rush, there were already a dozen people in line. Leo leaned down and waved at us as we approached. By the time we got to the window, my mouth was starting to water from the sight and smell of baskets of tacos passing by.
“Good morning, ladies,” Leo said with a grin. “How can I help you this morning?”
Leo’s unfailing good mood just made me feel worse. He was the most optimistic person I’d ever met. He was certain that he’d be acquitted and that we would be able to prove that he didn’t burn down his restaurant. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as confident in our ability to counter his own words admitting that it was his fault.
“Well, we were hoping to talk with you, but you seem busy,” I said, looking back at the line behind us.
“No problem,” Leo said. “I can take a couple minutes break. Now what will you have?”
“Two sweet potato and black bean tacos with extra sour cream and a side of hot salsa,” Miranda said. “And two of the chicken tacos with cilantro sauce.”
Miranda continued to study the menu with the intensity of a scholar. “And let’s try the tilapia sliders with jalapeño cole slaw.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Aren’t you going to order anything?” Miranda asked.
“Right. Of course.” I glanced up at the specials, handwritten in chalk on a crowded blackboard and just chose one at random. “I’ll have a number three.”
“Grab a table and I’ll bring it out in about five minutes,” Leo said. He refused to let us pay and waved us away.
We found a picnic table in a grassy area under a shade tree where it wasn’t as sweltering, and waited for Leo to bring us our lunch order. It was a typical valley summer day—warm and dry, approaching scorching by late afternoon. It was still pleasant enough to sit outside, or at least it would be if I weren’t still wearing my black padded motorcycle pants.
A light breeze moved the air around as we watched the line grow at Leo’s distinctive taco truck. Office workers from the university were drawn like moths to the flames painted on the side. When the Lemon Basil Bistro burned down, the insurance company balked at paying Leo while the criminal investigation was pending, so he scraped together enough money to start Five Alarm Tacos. He thought the name was a hilarious nod to the fact that his restaurant had burned down. Rob had nearly had a heart attack when he heard the name and tried his best to convince Leo to change it. Rob had been right—the local paper loved the irony and never failed to mention Five Alarm Tacos by name when they wrote about the arson charges and the upcoming trial.
However, Leo had also been right because all that publicity ha
d led to his success. He was making more money than ever thanks to his low overhead and a steady stream of people who wanted to eat at the infamous taco truck. That success would end, of course, if he were convicted and thrown in the slammer.
Miranda eyed a couple passing by with plates of nachos as if she might jump them, then she turned back to me. “Think it’s time to call in Burton?”
“No!”
She raised an eyebrow.
“The trial’s in two weeks. What if he takes off?”
I was spared from answering that question by Leo’s approach with a tray of food, most of which he set in front of Miranda. Leo sat next to us as we dug into the fragrant tacos. The number three turned out to be chicken mole tacos with cotija cheese and crunchy jalapeño coleslaw. It was a good choice.
“So what did you need to talk to me about?” Leo said, sipping on a large iced tea.
“Why won’t Eddie Lucas talk to us?” I asked, rolling up my last taco and preparing to finish it off. Miranda was well into her second plate of tacos and had already finished off the fish sliders. I had managed to grab one without losing a finger, but it had been close. The woman was serious about her Mexican food.
Leo gave a long sigh. “I honestly don’t know. I mean, he’s always been a good mentor and business partner. He could tell the jury how much it meant to me to have my own restaurant. That’s why I really think he should testify.”
I nodded and bit into the taco, savoring the sweet spicy flavor.
“He doesn’t seem to want to testify for you, Leo,” Miranda said, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. “In fact, he seems really determined not to.”
Leo shook his head. “I just don't know why.”
I finished the last of my taco and pushed the paper plate away, then pulled the flyer out of my pocket. “Did you know that there’s a new business going into your old restaurant building?”
Leo took the flyer and read it and for the first time, I saw a bit of a cloud cross his perpetually sunny expression. “No, I didn’t know that. Well, it’s a good location with off-street parking, so it’s pretty desirable. I’m sure Eddie wouldn’t have any trouble renting it out again.”