by Patrice Lyle
"Is there one?"
"I love what I do. It's a real kick. It's so much fun being Sahara." She gestured at her negligee and boa. "The new clothes are great, and the customers are a hoot. 'Course there was this one guy, Carl. He refused to pay. What a cheapskate he was."
Aunt Alfa's confession took a few minutes to process. Senior Sweet Talk sounded innocent, I supposed, but was her safety at risk? "What kind of guys are calling in?"
"Mainly lonely old codgers who want to talk."
"Why do you call them Stud Biscuit?"
"The guys love that term, especially Snookums." Her eyes sparkled like crystals. "That's an Alfa original. Ida and the other gals are using it now."
"The men calling in could be psychotic individuals, Aunt Alfa. This could be dangerous."
"Oh, come on, Pipe. There's no danger. The guys don't know who I really am, and I'm using a Senior Sweet Talk phone. Plus most of them are old coots, except for a couple of young guys who keep requesting me." Her rosy lips stretched into a wide grin. "I'm a bobcat, Pipe. A real bobcat."
I was pretty sure she meant cougar, but I wasn't saying squat.
I gestured toward her negligee. "Why do you have to wear that?"
She tugged on the stretchy red lace. "I don't have to, but it's fun and gets me into character because none of us use our real identities."
I crossed my arms. "I'm still not sold on this new job."
"I'm making more money with this than with my essential oils. How do you think I bought you those shoes? Even if they were two lefts."
"How can you work for a company with such an ageist name? Senior Sweet Talk? You hate old lady references." At least she used to.
"Not now that I'm making bank."
I focused on the letters SST embroidered on her negligee and narrowed my eyes. "SST doesn't stand for Sea Spray Taffy, does it?"
"No." Aunt Alfa made a face. "It's the Senior Sweet Talk company logo. They sent me a bunch of stuff in a starter kit. I got the negligee and the boa. Oh, and a pair of feathered sandals."
Oh, for the love of dark chocolate hot cocoa. "You lied to me, Aunt Alfa."
"It was for your own good, but now that things are out in the open I can share what's going on." She gestured at Brownie, who was snoozing away on his Batman cushion. "Brownie's excited because I'll be able to buy him all sorts of Batman stuff."
I turned to see what Tattoo Tex thought of Aunt Alfa's new career, but he'd made a break for it. Smart man.
My cell buzzed with the receipt of a new message. I dug my phone out of my purse and shook my head at what the message relayed.
Mystic Ming like Senior Sweet Talk! Great idea! Can I get number?
"Who texted?" Aunt Alfa asked.
I rolled my eyes. "Mystic Ming's asking about your new job."
Aunt Alfa grabbed my phone and read the message. Then she texted him the SST number. "We're supposed to promote wherever we can. Maybe I can get some customers from the other side."
I wished a boatload of Swiss dark chocolate truffles would materialize.
I was too stunned to speak. Had my precious auntie finally lost it? Was I going to have to hire a sitter for her? Or put her in a retirement home where she could be supervised? First order of business when we got home was a full assessment of her supplements.
A walloping dose of ginkgo for brain health might be in order.
"You okay, Pipe? You're about as pale as the time I accidentally torched that psychic's drapes."
I wasn't sure how to respond. I loved her more than sparkle makeup and dark chocolate combined. How could I allow her employment to continue now that I knew about it? Was Senior Sweet Talk using her? Taking advantage of senior citizens desperate for pensions?
"Aunt Alfa, I'm happy you're excited, but how much are they paying you?" I hoped it was at least ten dollars an hour.
She flashed me another Cheshire cat grin. "I make thirty bucks a call, and each call lasts thirty minutes max."
Holy chocolate schnitzel! That was sixty dollars an hour.
"Me and Ida are making bank."
"Who's Ida?"
"Ida Poppalopski. She's coming to visit us in Sea Spray next month." Aunt Alfa sat next to me on the bed. "She's been hustling at Senior Sweet Talk for a couple of years now. Bought herself a brand new, top-of-the-line scooter. She said it's totally pimped out."
A pimped-out scooter? Aunt Alfa would undoubtedly want one next.
The first telltale migraine sign hit me. A stabbing pain across my forehead. My stress level had surpassed the capabilities of a gazillion dark chocolate almonds dipped in chocolate ganache. I needed a coconut ice cream hot fudge sundae.
In a watermelon-sized bowl.
Aunt Alfa's cell phone rang, and she glanced at the screen. "It's Snookums calling back. You care if I take it? I could use the thirty bucks. I want to buy you a proper set of those pink shoes."
Aw. "The pink shoes aren't important. Don't do this for me, Aunt Alfa."
She cupped my hands in hers and sniffed. "You've done so much for me, Pipe. I hate that you pay all our bills. I owe you."
My eyes stung. "You've done way more for me, Aunt Alfa. You're the one who figured out that milk chocolate was making my skin break out and cemented my career in natural health. You don't owe me anything."
She kissed me on each cheek. "You're my girl, Pipe."
"And you're my beloved great auntie."
Aunt Alfa sniffed and stood up. "All right, that's enough auntie-niece lovey-dovey-ness for now. I've got a customer to counsel, Pipe."
I rose from the bed and vowed that Aunt Alfa wouldn't be working for Senior Sweet Talk much longer.
* * *
The Ahoy Matey Tavern appeared crowded from the entryway. Tattoo Tex and I were both deep in trauma mode after Aunt Alfa's revelation about her new career and needed a shot.
And not wheatgrass this time.
"Are you sure you're okay to go in here?" I was concerned about his puffer fish aversion, and his possible reaction to the stuffed fish on the wall.
He flashed me a half-smile. "I reckon a Texan cowboy can handle a dead fish after what Aunt Alfa just announced."
I laughed as we strolled inside. I plopped onto the first barstool I found, and Tex followed suit beside me.
"I can't believe my auntie," I said as I massaged my forehead. "Where have I gone wrong?"
Tattoo Tex shook his head. "I reckon she wants her independence, Doc."
"Can't she do that by taking a road trip?"
He shrugged. "Heck, she seems to like the work. Maybe it's not a bad thing."
"It's a horrible thing. I can't let her continue."
"Stopping Aunt Alfa's like stopping a charging bull."
I couldn't help but smile. That was my auntie. Bullheaded and strong as an ox, despite her tiny stature. It was what made her so loveable.
And challenging.
"Excuse me? Is anyone there?" A young female voice inquired. "Does this place have sushi on the menu? I really need a dragon roll."
I glanced over my shoulder at Cassidy, the new Sparkle O model. She was seated next to Tattoo Tex. Honey-colored waves fell over her shoulders as she leaned over the counter and revealed a colorful sushi tattoo on her left arm. Reddish pieces of tuna poked out of a dark green seaweed wrap. The words Sushi Queen snaked alongside the artwork.
What a weird tattoo.
Tattoo Tex, tattoo artist extraordinaire, gawked at Cassidy's tattoo. "Who did your tattoo work? I've never seen sushi done before."
Cassidy cast a dismissive glance at Tex. Given her superstar looks, she was probably sick of guys hitting on her and using her tattoo as an opener. Little did she know, however, that Tattoo Tex was seriously interested in the artwork.
"Some guy at a tattoo parlor in Manhattan." Cassidy turned away from Tex and peered behind the counter, undoubtedly looking for the absent bartender.
"Why sushi, ma'am?"
"Why're you so curious?"
Tattoo Tex
lifted his sleeve to show his gemstone tattoo and the Cocoa Bliss Bombshell tattoo that he said I'd inspired. A woman's side profile was crowned with green gemstones, and she held a chocolate bar and a caduceus.
"I see." Cassidy gazed at Tattoo Tex's arm before she pointed at her thigh, which was quite visible given her white stretchy shorts that only a model could get away with. Several more sushi tattoos adorned her leg, all the way down to her calf.
I could see why she was a cosmetics model. Given her height, she could have been a lingerie model, but I doubted Victoria's Secret wanted sushi tattoos on the runway.
"I love sushi," Cassidy said. "So I got a few tats."
Tattoo Tex focused his gaze on her leg. "I count five pieces of sushi thar. Looks like two salmon, two tuna, and a lone eel."
"Yep." Cassidy turned her attention toward the bartender—same one from last night—who finally appeared. "Hey, do you guys sell sushi?"
He shook his head. "Sorry. The only place that sells sushi on the island is Fresh Flippers. It's on the Westside by the water, but it's kind of pricey."
Cassidy crossed her arms and put on a pout that reminded me of a three-year-old who'd just been denied a Happy Meal. "I want sushi."
"There, there," a man's voice with a British accent said. "We'll get you some sushi, Cassidy."
I spun in my chair. The chipper voice belonged to Pervy British Guy, aka Dr. J's husband, who'd told someone he wanted that bloody woman out of his life no matter what and who'd been fired for sleeping with his boss's mother.
Well, according to Mystic Ming anyway.
"You better," Cassidy said. "You promised."
"Hi, I'm Dr. Piper." I extended my hand to the man, wasting no time because he'd vanished during our last attempt to talk to him. "You were at the Carat Cream party last night when Dr. J. tragically passed." I watched his face for any sign of guilt.
"I'm Heath." Pervy British Guy pressed his lips together. "Yes, Dr. J's death was tragic indeed."
"How did you know Dr. J?" I asked.
"She was my wife." His tone was flat, as if he were stating a fact.
I recalled his politician-like announcement about her death in the conference room. Hardly the reaction of a lovesick and grief-stricken spouse, which fit with Mystic Ming's comment. But how could I verify the boss's mother story?
"Heath, the Sushi Queen wants her crown." Cassidy's pouty demeanor increased. Her lips pursed as she turned to stare at the stuffed and mounted fish behind the bar. "I'm so sushi deprived I could eat those dead fish on the wall."
"Except that one." The bartender pointed at the fish with needles protruding from its round body.
"Which one?" Heath asked.
"The puffer fish," Cassidy said. "It turns people into zombies."
Tattoo Tex stiffened. "Just like that movie."
The bartender laughed and rubbed a glass with a towel. "Not The Serpent and the Rainbow, again?"
Heath tilted his head. "I don't recall that movie."
Cassidy reached into her purse for a tube of lipstick and slathered on a layer. "It's a dorky old movie about some guy that becomes a zombie from puffer fish venom. He doesn't even die."
"He nearly dies in the coffin." Tex's tone had an edge to it. He was undoubtedly annoyed that another young person didn't the think the movie was scary.
"Puffer fish's only supposed to make you a zombie." Cassidy dropped the lipstick in her purse.
The bartender handed us all menus. "Zombies are cool."
Cassidy nodded. "Because they'll do anything you say."
Enough of this bizarre conversation. Time to get back to the case. I needed answers from Heath.
"What kind of work do you do, Heath?" If any at all.
He toyed with the corner of a white square napkin. "Investment banking, but I'm looking to start my own company."
Good segue. "Do you work for someone else's company now?" Or were you fired for canoodling with your boss's mother?
He flattened the napkin with his palm. "I'm on my own now. The company I used to work for downsized recently."
Uh-huh.
"Care if I ask you a question?" His British accent was so proper it was hard to imagine him being a pervert.
I nodded my agreement.
"Is that hot old lady I saw you with earlier related to you?"
Cassidy let out a disgusted sigh, grabbed her purse, and stalked out of the Ahoy Matey Tavern. Was she jealous of Aunt Alfa?
"She sure left in a huff." Sometimes stating the obvious could get a suspect to fess up more information.
"Dude," the bartender said. "You shouldn't say stuff about some other chick in front of your chick."
Heath rose and slid his hands into his pockets. "Thanks for the advice, but she's too young to be my chick."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jewels Are a Girl's Best Friends
A short while later, we joined Aunt Alfa—who was off the Senior Sweet Talk clock—to review a major piece of evidence.
The naked-surfer video.
The things I have to do as a PI.
Aunt Alfa hooked her smartphone to the TV and turned on the power. "I can't wait to see this on the big screen. Who else wants popcorn?"
Tattoo Tex lowered himself onto the couch. "I'll pass, ma'am, but thank you."
I waved my hand. "None for me either, thank you." If I ate during the movie, I'd probably end up choking.
Aunt Alfa retrieved a giant bag of organic kettle corn and popped a few kernels in her mouth. "Sweet stuff's always good with spicy, don't you think?"
Spicy! My chest tightened as I scanned the room for my precious piglet. Aw, there he was. Curled up on his Batman cushion with his little eyes pressed shut. I can't believe I was going to start a potentially X-rated video without checking where he was.
Couldn't I be a good PI and piglet mama too?
I set my hand on top of Tattoo Tex's for moral support. "All right, Aunt Alfa. Let's watch the surfer video."
Heaven help us.
A huge grin spread across my auntie's adorable face as she queued the film. Grainy footage appeared on the TV screen as ocean waves lapped onto shore in the background.
But no surfer.
Tattoo Tex and I exchanged looks. Had Aunt Alfa messed up the shoot?
"Is there anything thar?"
Aunt Alfa perched on the edge of her bed. "It took me a couple of minutes to figure out how to make a video."
Seconds later, the fuzzy image on the screen dissolved into an indistinct shape, and peals of laughter filtered through the TV speakers. Followed by candid conversation.
"Look at that thing flop!" Aunt Alfa's voice boomed from the TV speakers. "It's like a kielbasa on steroids."
"I'd like to get that served on a platter, please, love," Xavier responded.
Eeww.
"How do I get the visual working? I gotta show this to Ida."
"Hit the focus button, love."
"Thanks for the tip, Zaveer."
Xavier's waist came into focus for a brief moment before the camera lens swept off the balcony and zoomed in on the surfer.
Or rather on the surfer's jewels.
A larger than life image of the surfer's manhood filled the screen. Holy chocolate babka! Aunt Alfa's kielbasa assessment was spot on.
"Wow, my camera phone rocks, Pipe. Look at that color! It's so life-like."
My jaw dropped as the surfer launched into a series of cartwheels, each one alarmingly more vulgar than the other. Or maybe the camera kept zooming in closer. Regardless, the surfer's performance was like the finale of a Cheaters episode.
You had to watch the cheatee confront the cheater.
"Will ya look at that! His jewels are floppin' all over the place!" Aunt Alfa's voice boomed out of the TV.
"I'd like to do more than look, love."
The footage shifted suddenly to the Inn's garden and focused on a gray bird hopping across the lawn. "Oops," Aunt Alfa said. "I got so excited I lost my angle."
A moment later, the camera lens returned to the performance. The surfer arched his back and leapt into a series of back flips, his jewels stealing the show.
This isn't helping the case.
"Aunt Alfa, did you get a shot of his face?" That was the only way to confirm the identity of the man I'd seen with Dr. Sylvia.
"Please, Pipe. Who videos a naked surfer's head?"
Tattoo Tex shifted uncomfortably. Aunt Alfa scarfed more popcorn. And I realized this piece of evidence was not working out as planned. I was about to turn the darn video off when my luck turned. The surfer retrieved a surfboard, which contained an advertisement. Yes!
I jumped up from the couch. "Freeze frame."
"Right here? The time to freeze the frame was a few seconds ago, Pipe."
I dashed toward her and grabbed the phone. The video screen was similar to my music program so I tapped the pause button. Then I set her phone back on the TV stand.
Aunt Alfa shook her head. "Unreal. I took time off from Senior Sweet Talk for this. I could be working." She angled the popcorn bag to her mouth like a funnel and slid a few kernels in.
"What do you think Tex?" I pointed at the surfboard. It read, Shoot the Curl Surf Shoppe, Annabelle Island, SC.
The color had returned to Tex's face. "That's something we can work with."
"Agreed." I turned toward Aunt Alfa. "Let's go over to this surf shop and see what we can find out."
Aunt Alfa's cell phone dinged, and she retrieved the phone. Her eyes sparkled as she read the message. "Ida says Snookums and Carl called asking for me. You care if I sit this one out?"
Of course I did but only because I didn't want her working for SST. However, that was a battle for another day.
"No prob." I glanced at my nightstand. Hmm. "Where's my Sparkle O GPS?"
"The Escalade has a GPS thar."
Oh no. He wasn't going to like my suggested mode of transportation on this interrogation.
"Uh, Tex. I'd like to take Pinky." My hot pink MINI Cooper (that I'd earned through selling tons of Sparkle O), with rhinestone-encrusted wipers, blades, and rims, was adorable.
And mostly practical.
Tattoo Tex leaned forward, planted his elbows on his knees, and wiggled his eyebrows. "I reckon Pinky's pretty small for large items."