by Patrice Lyle
"You know the saying, hell hath no fury."
"Yes, but did that fury extend to the Carat Cream?" I turned toward Tex. "We should talk to Loretta."
Tattoo Tex crooked his head toward Xavier's door. "What'd you think about our love? Think he did Dr. J in?"
"I'm not sure I see him killing anyone. He definitely wasn't a fan of hers, and he knew about DMSO, but we don't have a specific motive for him."
"True." He gestured down the hallway toward my room. "Want to see if Aunt Alfa can get Loretta's room number? She seemed pretty chummy with the front desk girl."
"That's because the poor girl was barely awake when we checked in, so Aunt Alfa gave her a bottle of energizing lemon aromatherapy. It perked her right up." At age ninety-one, Aunt Alfa was still mixing her own essential oils.
My auntie's dedication to her profession was inspiring.
"Is that the roller bottle Aunt Alfa gave me to use when I work a double shift at the peanut plant? If so, that stuff's better than a cup of joe."
I smiled. "Aunt Alfa makes incredible products."
Tattoo Tex slipped his arm around my waist as we headed toward my hotel room. His closeness made my thoughts drift away from Dr. J's alleged murder to Tattoo Tex's life in Texas. We'd only been dating for a couple of months, but my heart knew he was The One. Our relationship felt bigger than only two months. Maybe because we'd solved a murder together? Then my heart started racing.
Was playing PI a good enough foundation to build a future on?
Tattoo Tex cleared his throat and halted. A serious look flickered across his face. "Doc, I've got to ask you a question."
My legs felt as soft as spreadable goat cheese. We'd talked about him moving to Sea Spray, Maryland but the town hadn't ever had a murder. Would we survive without a killer to catch?
I guess I could invest in a Castle DVD collection.
"I don't want to rush you, Piper, but I have to know something." Tattoo Tex lifted my hands and kissed my knuckles.
"What, Tex? I'll answer any question you ask." Including, do you want me to bust out of Texas and move to Maryland. To which I'll say, yes!
"Do you really like them bling boots?"
Oh, for the love of dark chocolate shavings! No, I don't like those dung kickers.
But Tex looked so vulnerable—and he was The One, after all—so I flashed him a smile. "Yes, Tex. They're perfect."
Perfect for a jewelry booth at a roundup!
"You make me happier than anyone I've ever known." He grinned and pressed his lips against mine. "I love you, Doc."
Aw. "I love you, too."
He wrapped both of his arms around me and pulled me tight. I melted into him and sent a huge plea out to the universe.
Please let me learn to like those blasted bling dung kickers.
After we came up for air, we headed to see Aunt Alfa. When we arrived at the door, I retrieved my room key and noticed a teal curler—hooked to a white rubber band—hanging from the knob.
I lifted the familiar curler. "What's this?"
Tattoo Tex shot me a half-smile. "In Texas, we use a hat."
"For what?"
He tugged my hand away as I started to insert the card key into the lock. "I reckon your aunt's giving us a signal not to come in."
"What? Why?"
Tattoo Tex's face reddened to the shade of a third-degree burn. "If the curler's a hangin', don't go a bangin'."
"Tex! That's my auntie you're talking about."
"The door! I meant don't bang on the door."
"Don't be silly." I slammed the key into the lock and strolled inside, yanking my boyfriend along with me.
We barged into the hotel room, and the sight of my beloved auntie made my jaw drop. Aunt Alfa's back was facing us, and she had one red stiletto perched on the edge of her bed. Her footwear wasn't the shocking part, however.
It was the red negligee she wore over her velour pantsuit. And the hot pink boa that dangled from her neck.
Cute boa, but what's with the get-up?
"That's right, Stud-biscuit. You lucked out," Aunt Alfa said into her cell phone. "There's no one hotter than me. They call me Sahara."
"Aunt Alfa? What's going on, and where's Brownie?" My innocent piglet didn't need to hear such talk.
A quick glance around the room quelled my fears. Brownie was snoozing on his Batman cushion and missing the Senior Seductress Show. Thank goodness!
Tattoo Tex shielded his eyes. "I'll wait in the hallway thar." Tattoo Tex scurried out the door, leaving me alone to deal with my auntie.
Aunt Alfa turned around, and her eyes widened when she saw me. "Uh, sorry, Snookums," she said into the phone. "An IRS auditor just showed up."
Snookums? IRS auditor?
Aunt Alfa ended the call, dropped her phone onto the bed, and shot me a curious look. "Didn't you get my sign? The curler on the door knob?"
Tattoo Tex was right. I was too stunned to speak.
"Snookums gets spooked if I get interrupted." Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if we were engaging in a perfectly normal conversation.
"Uh…" Words wouldn't form. My brain was too stuck on the fact that my 91-year-old auntie not only owned a negligee but apparently liked to wear it in private while speaking to someone named Snookums while pretending to be someone named Sahara.
Aunt Alfa strode toward me and stopped inches away. "All I ask is for a little privacy in this hotel. Would you mind knocking when you see the curler?"
My gaze stuck to her red negligee, and I squinted at the letters SST embroidered near the lapel. "Does SST stand for Sea Spray Taffy?" One of Aunt Alfa's favorite stores at home.
"Sure. I think I ordered it online."
Yeah, but why would they have negligees? And I didn't recall seeing a SST purchase on my credit card, and Aunt Alfa usually used my card for fun stuff (a perk of her job). Then I stared at her boa. Hmm. I bit my lip while I formulated a polite way to ask her what the fennel was going on.
I took a deep breath. "Who's Snookums? Is that who you were talking to earlier today in the conference room? When I believe you told him you were hotter than a parked car in the Sahara desert?"
I was pretty sure that was what she'd said.
Aunt Alfa waved her hand. "Naw, that was Carl. He's a real cheapskate."
I pressed my hand to my forehead where a headache was starting to build. My auntie was an adult, obviously, but I felt responsible for her. Ever since she'd moved in with me after being kicked out of her Florida retirement home, our bond had deepened. Plus I felt bad for her because she couldn't afford her own place.
Retirement wasn't easy when your only savings were an essential oil collection.
"Who are these people, Aunt Alfa?"
"I can't say."
"Why not?"
She jutted out her little jaw. "Because I just can't, all right? If everything goes well, I'll tell you later."
"Does this have something to do with Granny Panties?"
She shook her head.
"Aunt Alfa, tell me who Snookums and Carl are." I felt like a parent suddenly, trying to pry incriminating information out of a defiant teenager.
"Look, I'm trying to work a few things out, Pipe. I'm not going to live forever, you know." Her voice cracked.
Aw. My eyes misted. "Don't talk like that, Aunt Alfa. You're my rock. My uncut precious gem. You have to outlive me."
"I love you, Pipe."
Aunt Alfa's eyes—lined in Sparkle O teal eyeliner—twinkled as she flashed me her endearing 91-year-old auntie smile. I nearly melted until I realized something.
Her words and heart-tugging smile might be a tactic.
The last time she'd done this was when she and her friend had broken into the Sea Spray bingo parlor because Auntie was convinced that the fry cook had hidden her stolen Elvis dauber between the couch cushions.
She'd used the same I'm not going to live forever line to weasel her way out of trouble.
Aunt Alfa peeled her negligee o
ff her purple velour pantsuit. "We should go. That front desk gal called me a little while ago to invite us to a cocktail hour in the hotel bar."
I tilted my head. "Why are they doing that?" To toast Dr. J's death?
"To thank the hotel patrons for all they've been through today with the crime. I say we go and do a little sting."
I needed to do a sting, all right. On Aunt Alfa!
But that would have to wait.
My phone dinged with the receipt of a new message. Aunt Alfa whirled around after zipping up her velour jacket.
"I bet that's Mystic Ming." She sounded far too excited.
I whipped my cell phone out of my purse and glanced at the screen. It read, Is everything okay in thar? I laughed. My poor boyfriend. He was probably traumatized by Aunt Alfa's outfit.
"It's Tex." I grabbed Brownie's leash and hooked it to his harness. "Come on, Mr. B. Let's go see if we can sniff out a killer."
Wwweee!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Zombies and Secret Face Lifts
A sizable crowd had gathered in the Annabelle Inn's Ahoy Matey Bar. I recognized Dr. Sylvia, Xavier, Cassidy, and Loretta from the party. Several others from the guest list, as evidenced by their nametags, were also present. White life rings, taupe-colored fishing nets, and a variety of stuffed fish decorated the walls. Glass floats had been turned into votive candleholders, and the light from the flames added a warm glow to the room.
We edged our way inside. Everyone was drinking and snacking on appetizers. Xavier waved to me from across the room, and I noticed Winnie filling up a champagne flute.
"You'd never guess someone died at the Annabelle Inn today," I said as I took in the party atmosphere. "Nobody's sniffling or looking somber."
"Maybe it's like a funeral reception, Doc. We have those in Texas."
"Or maybe no one's sad Dr. J dropped dead, Pipe."
Sadly, my aunt's assessment was probably the most accurate. A chill passed through me when I wondered if someone among us might have wanted me dead too.
Aunt Alfa removed a silver flask from her burgundy patent leather purse and held it up. "I don't know about you two, but I could certainly use a shot."
Tattoo Tex flashed a grin at my auntie. "No offense, ma'am, but I reckon you could use a smoke after that phone call."
"Naw, a cig's not worth killing my lungs. You never know what hot guy will call next, and I can't screw up my ability to breathe heavily into the phone."
Tattoo Tex burst into a coughing fit.
I wanted to ask Aunt Alfa about the sudden influx of calls, but I knew she wouldn't answer. Her stubborn streak was harder to remove than a glob of melted dark chocolate on a pair of white pants. The crazy phone calls had to be related to that Granny Panties website, but how? I picked up Brownie and cradled him in my arms.
My sweet little piglet. He loved company, but I didn't want him to be stepped on.
"You want me to take him, Doc?"
"Sure." I handed Brownie to Tex and glanced around at the mingling crowd. "Who should we talk to first?"
Aunt Alfa scrunched her face and pointed across the room with her Elvis flask. "There's the pervy British guy who was hitting on me until you kiboshed it."
My gaze followed the direction of Elvis and landed on Pervy British Guy. He was talking to Loretta in the corner. "Who is he anyway?"
A familiar ringtone sounded from inside my purse, signaling the receipt of a new text. I retrieved my phone and angled the screen so the three of us could read the message.
Dr. J say Pervy British Guy her husband. He want to kill her because she get him fired from his Wall Street job.
"Wait a minute," I said as I snapped my fingers. "I saw Pervy British Guy in the hallway, telling someone on the phone that he wanted that bloody woman out of his life, no matter what."
Tattoo Tex shot a look at Pervy British Guy. "That's a suspicious thang to say."
My phone dinged again. Another message from Mystic Ming. Dr. J say Pervy British Guy get red-faced mad when Dr. J tell his boss that he bang-bang boss's mama.
"The boss's mom?" My pitch rivaled a firecracker.
Aunt Alfa's face pinched. "That sounded a little ageist, Pipe. An older gal can't be a hot commodity?"
Now she's riled up about 'old age' comments? She let Mystic Ming get away with it.
"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way." Aunt Alfa had a point, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings. After all, I knew how hard she worked at her exercise routine. "I would have expected him to say he slept with the boss's wife."
"I reckon some younger guys like older women."
"You got that right, Tex. I'm living proof."
I turned toward my aunt. "Living proof of what?"
"Never mind." She sipped some wheatgrass from her flask and screwed the cap back on. "I'm going to go chat someone up. See what I can find out." She slipped the flask into her purse, grabbed her phone, and glanced at it. "Good. No one called."
Before I could say anything, Aunt Alfa was off to the murder-investigation-races. A twinge of unease hit me. I knew she was up to something with these phone calls, but what?
"I think we need to investigate Aunt Alfa," I said to Tex.
He shrugged. "What's a little harmless phone flirting?"
I shot him a look that said, are you nuts? "You call a negligee and boa 'flirting?'"
He blushed. "I guess not."
"If flirting was all it was, she'd tell me. Trust me. There's more to it." Once I'd reached adulthood, Aunt Alfa had never been one to exercise discretion when it came to telling me details about her love life. When she'd first moved in, I'd patiently listened to her stories about how she'd turned all the men's heads in Florida in her red thong bikini.
I'd eaten so many dark chocolate almond clusters, it was a wonder I hadn't packed on a hundred pounds.
"Maybe, but I reckon we're not going to figure it out tonight, if at all."
I sighed. He was right. "I'll keep my eye on her like I always do."
"Good idear." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder toward Loretta and Pervy British Guy. "Don't you think it's odd, Doc, that Loretta would talk to her ex? Don't women usually avoid that kind of thang?"
Wow, I hadn't put the two chocolates together. Xavier had told us that Loretta's husband left her for Dr. J, which would mean Loretta was indeed cavorting with her ex-husband.
"Great point." I focused on the ex-couple. They chatted casually in the corner, each sipping fruity drinks. Daggers weren't launching from Loretta's eyes, bound for Pervy British Guy's heart. "That's weird. Let's approach them and see what we can find out."
Someone cranked up Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville as we threaded our way toward the targets. Tattoo Tex gripped my elbow and pointed at several colorful stuffed fish displayed on the wall behind the bar.
"Look thar, next to the sailfish. That's one of those puffer fish." He shivered.
The small bluish fish with needles sticking out of its round body had been mounted onto a wooden plaque with its species engraved into a small gold plaque. The barb-like needles were major barf—no surprise as a needle-phobe—but the fish itself didn't elicit shivers from me.
"What's wrong, Tex?" Had a puffer fish caused a childhood trauma?
"Puffer fish venom was used in that movie, The Serpent and the Rainbow." He shivered again. "You ever see it, Doc?"
I shook my head and slipped my arm around his waist. Poor guy. The only thing I'd seen him scared of was a tofu chicken nugget, but who could blame him? "I quit watching horror movies after Freddy Kreuger came to town. He freaked me out."
Tattoo Tex laughed. "Freddy didn't scare me, but the weird voodoo man in The Serpent and the Rainbow sure did. I hate to admit it, but I had to leave my bathroom light on after watching that movie. Jeff Pullman ended up turning into a zombie and getting buried alive because of the puffer fish venom the voodoo man gave him."
"That's creepy." Ruining a fab manicure trying to claw your way out of a coffin was enoug
h to make me shudder. "I'm glad I didn't watch it."
"I didn't want to see the darn movie, but a couple of my buddies in high school did, so I couldn't wuss out."
Men. They wouldn't wuss out, yet they'd be scarred for life. I glanced at the dead fish again. I hated needles, but otherwise it was just another fish.
"Either of you like a drink?" a chipper man's voice asked.
I turned and smiled at a twenty-something bartender standing behind the counter. His dark blond hair and bronzed skin screamed, I surf, therefore I am. "That sounds like a great idea. Do you have champagne splits?"
The bartender dipped beneath the counter and appeared with a small bottle of Korbel. "Will this do?"
"Yes, thanks." I tugged on Tattoo Tex's sleeve to rouse him from his voodoo-man-trauma trance. "Tex, do you want something?"
He turned toward the bar and said, "I reckon a Bud will do."
"Is that an actual pig?" The bartender grinned at Brownie.
"Sure is." Tattoo Tex beamed and angled Brownie so the bartender could get a better look at my adorable piglet.
The bartender grinned. "That's the tiniest pig I've ever seen. He's cute."
"He's a miniature potbellied pig," I said. "His name's Brownie, and he's two years old."
Brownie's response was wwweee!
We laughed as several bar patrons turned our way. Brownie closed his eyes, oblivious to the attention he drew. The bartender opened my champagne and poured the effervescent goodness into a crystal flute. He handed it to me.
"Thanks." Nothing like a glass of bubbly to reduce the stress of a possible murderer on the loose.
"No problem." The bartender unscrewed the top off a longneck bottle of beer and reached for a glass hanging above the bar.
"Don't need a glass, man," Tex said. "But thanks."
"No prob." The bartender handed Tattoo Tex the beer.
Tex threw back half the bottle, wiped his mouth, and pointed at the puffer fish. "That thar fish is a nasty bugger. Turns people into zombies."
The bartender laughed. "Are you talking about that hokey old movie filmed in Haiti?"
Tattoo Tex tightened his jaw, and I wanted to bust out laughing. The surfer kid had a point. The film dated back to the eighties.