Panty Raid
Page 17
Except Chryssinda. She’d been the one to stash the cone bra in my #GetCheeky swag bag. Not because she wanted me to have it, but because she had to get it out of Joey’s booth.
“What about the hotel? The guestbook from the chapel?”
“I talked to Irene. She told me she spilled coffee on the guestbook and tore out the pages so they wouldn’t stain the other entries. Your solicitation charge—”
“Suspicion of solicitation,” Nick corrected.
I rolled my eyes. “—brought Kristin and Sue Ellen to our room, except they thought it was Marc’s room because our room was on his bill. But why would Marc hire escorts if he was upset about his wife? That’s how I found out about Jacques and his side business.”
“The Left Bank concierge runs the escort service?”
“Yes. And I’m sure if Alain Remie learned the truth, Jacques would be out of a job.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“No.” I squeezed Nick’s hand. “Once Jacques knew I knew about his side business, he became very cooperative. If he hadn’t called the police like I asked, I’d be—not here.”
I wasn’t the only one who had suspicions about Marc. Nick had too. He just hadn’t expected me to force Marc’s hand with my spontaneous wedding ceremony act and had been sitting vigil by Chryssinda’s side to make sure Marc couldn’t get to her. The only problem with his plan was that Marc had lied to him about my whereabouts, giving him a constant stream of updates about my shenanigans at Intimate Mode. It was Amanda who finally reached Nick and told him I was in trouble. Not because she suspected the truth, but because she knew if anything happened to me, Nick might not recover.
That’s the funny thing about friendship. Once you realize who the people are that you want in your life, you do what you have to do to protect them. Sometimes those people let you in, and sometimes they don’t. I’d spent years operating as a free agent, and I was done. It was time for the next chapter. I didn’t want to die alone in a Las Vegas hallway wearing nothing but a T-shirt, panties, and a tacky wedding veil.
Hypothetically speaking, of course.
Epilogue
Alain Remie comped our room at The Left Bank for the duration of our time in Vegas. It took two days for the physical effects of the injection and fight with Marc to fade. I briefly wondered if the Associated Press would mention me in the news surrounding Marc Rico’s downfall. The question was answered when the flowers started arriving: from friends, family, and even my old friend Detective Loncar.
I milked my recuperation time and sampled all twenty-two versions of mac and cheese from the comfort of my king-sized bed. While I recovered, Nick acted as my unofficial assistant, faxing my lingerie orders to Tradava and arranging a few extra days of unpaid leave. It was three days later when Nick returned to the room to find me sitting on the corner of the bed.
“It’s time for something different,” I said.
“I didn’t think you were ever going to get tired of mac and cheese.”
“I’m not talking about mac and cheese.” In my hand was the $50 poker chip Jacques had given me when Nick and I first checked in. “Wanna gamble?”
“On what?”
“You know what.”
Nick nodded. I opened my hand and showed him the chip. “You said when you gamble, you want the universe to determine the outcome. No thought involved. We could bet it all on roulette.”
“That requires us to pick a number.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that.” I took his hand. “You know that scene in Casablanca when the lady who goes to Rick for money plays roulette and keeps winning on twenty-two?”
“Yes, but isn’t that also the number Julie Hagerty keeps betting on in Lost in America? The reason she loses her and Albert Brooks’ nest egg?”
“Yes. The way I see it, those two movies cancel each other out.”
He sat down next to me. “If only there were a sign that said the number twenty-two was significant.”
“Like the number of mac and cheese selections on the menu?”
He smiled. “Works for me.”
***
The universe was feeling romantic. Chaplain Rick conducted the ceremony, and Irene wore a pink floral shift dress and matching flower pot hat for the occasion. Nick asked Amanda to be his witness, and I Skyped Eddie (and Logan) in via my laptop to act as mine. The Left Bank tossed in both Elvis and Ann-Margret at no additional charge.
We honeymooned in Paris. The real one. And the Eiffel Tower was every bit as spectacular as I’d hoped.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to: Jenette Goldstein from Jenette Bras for taking the time to chat about the lingerie business, Teresa Kander for allowing use of her name, Gretchen Archer for suggesting I ask Samantha what she didn’t like about my original idea, The Polyester Posse, for helping my books gain visibility, Ramona deFelice Long for editorial guidance, the members of Shoptalk, The Atelier, and the subscribers of The Weekly DiVa, who brighten my world.
Dedication
To Amy O’Connor
About the Author
After close to two decades working for a top luxury retailer, Diane Vallere traded fashion accessories for accessories to murder. Diane started her own detective agency at age ten and has maintained a passion for shoes, clues, and clothes ever since. Sign up for The Weekly DiVa and receive girl talk, book talk, and life talk: www.dianevallere.com/the-weekly-diva
Copyright Page
PANTY RAID
Book 8 in the Samantha Kidd Mystery Series
A Polyester Press Publication
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people, companies, institutions, organizations, or incidents is entirely coincidental.
Ebook edition
First published June 2018
Copyright © 2018 Diane Vallere
ISBN: 9781939197429
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/ 2018945172
polyesterpress.com
Books by Diane Vallere
The Samantha Kidd Series:
Designer Dirty Laundry
Buyer, Beware
The Brim Reaper
Some Like It Haute
Grand Theft Retro
Pearls Gone Wild
Cement Stilettos
Panty Raid
The Madison Night Series:
“Midnight Ice” Novella
Pillow Stalk
That Touch of Ink
With Vics You Get Eggroll
The Decorator Who Knew Too Much
The Pajama Frame
The Costume Shop Series:
A Disguise to Die For
Masking for Trouble
Dressed to Confess
The Material Witness Series
Suede to Rest
Crushed Velvet
Silk Stalkings
Sylvia Stryker Outer Space Mysteries
Murder on Moon Trek 1