by Patrice Lyle
"You won't."
"They could kick me out if they believe her."
I pulled my auntie into a tight hug. "That's not going to happen."
"I've been certified for more than fifty years." Her words were muffled in my hair, but I understood her desperation. She'd dedicated her life to helping her clients use aromatherapy to improve their emotional well-being.
Her life would be meaningless without it.
A protective feeling overwhelmed me. Aunt Alfa had always been there for me, so I couldn't let her go down for Mystic Ming's killer kung pao. But how could I figure out who had spiked his lunch with peanuts?
Then it hit me like a ton of dark chocolate bricks.
I'll learn how to be a PI. I'd learned how to be a naturopathic doctor, so how hard could studying investigative work be?
"I need to order some PI flashcards." Yes! Hope stirred inside. "I still have my favorite flashcard site bookmarked from my college days."
Aunt Alfa pulled out of the embrace, and her face brightened. "Great idea. You'll have this figured out in no time."
"Flashcards, ma'am?" Tattoo Tex looked confused.
"Pipe can master anything with flashcards." Aunt Alfa looped her arm through mine. "Why don't the five of us go out to eat, and you can order them while we're at the restaurant?
Tattoo Tex shot me a questioning look. "Five of us?"
"You, me, Pipe, Merv, and Brownie," Aunt Alfa replied.
"Never heard of anyone named Brownie before," Tattoo Tex said. "But I'm sure we'll get along great."
I laughed. "Brownie's my potbellied pig."
"Ma'am?" Tattoo Tex remained polite despite the fact that as a Texan, he would probably rather have barbequed a pig than adopt one for a pet.
"Brownie's a doll baby. You'll love him." Aunt Alfa peeked at her watch. "Oh, my. It's getting kind of late for dinner."
Dinner? I glanced at the time on my cell phone. "Aunt Alfa, it's not even three o'clock."
"We've got to find Mervyn." A look of panic crossed her face. "The early-bird special only runs 'til five."
* * *
Three hours later—after Mervyn finished his interview—I went on my first date with Tattoo Tex, a man who interested me more than natural health and dark chocolate combined.
Unfortunately, it was a double date with Aunt Alfa and Mervyn. Not exactly storybook romance stuff.
But it was a start.
"Can't believe we're paying full price." Mervyn scrunched his face as he perused the menu.
"Burritos are usually cheap." Aunt Alfa angled her menu toward Mervyn and pointed to the lower left corner of the oversized, colorful plastic list of options. "Or get a combo. Those are only seven bucks."
We'd chosen a Mexican restaurant because it was kind for those on a fixed-income budget and easy to order gluten and dairy-free. Chicken enchiladas, with corn tortillas and no cheese or sour cream, were our favorite. I loved mine with extra peppers, and Aunt Alfa loved extra onions, which was fine with me as long as she didn't blow her onion-breath my way.
"I told one of the cops that the early-bird special ended at five, but I guess he didn't care." Aunt Alfa reached for a tortilla chip and dunked it in the bowl of salsa.
Tattoo Tex winked at me. Apparently he also found it humorous that she thought the police would be more interested in a cheap dinner than rooting out a possible killer.
"I'm just glad to be out of there." I snuck a quick rub on Brownie's snout. He was snuggled between Tattoo Tex and me inside Aunt Alfa's roller bag. I tugged the zipper to give him a better view of the restaurant.
And to offer him a tortilla chip. He scarfed it, and I handed him another one.
"He sure is a cute little thang." Tattoo Tex's drawl lulled over the word thang.
My hand brushed against Tattoo Tex's when he petted Brownie, and a thrill shot through me. I'd never ever felt this kind of energy with a guy before. I'd met Floyd on February 15th. The day after yet another depressing Valentine's Day as a single girl. So when he'd asked me out in the coconut ice cream section of our local grocery store, I'd eagerly said yes.
That was four years ago. And I'd thought our energy was good—at the beginning—until just now. The comparison was undeniable. Floyd was like a pan of carob brownies. They looked good and were trying to be the real thing.
But you can't do better than real dark chocolate brownies.
And it was appearing I couldn't do better than Tattoo Tex. He was the real thang.
"What kind of stuff does he eat?" Brownie was practically salivating as Tattoo Tex scratched him behind his ears.
"Veggies, fruit, and a special protein pig feed. He's off gluten too and doing really well." I offered him another chip.
"What does gluten do to him?"
"Pretty much the same thing it does to humans. Upsets his stomach and causes GI issues." I refrained from telling him the gory details about Brownie's gluten issues.
Aunt Alfa stopped a passing waitress to inquire if the guacamole contained sour cream, and after she was triple-assured it didn't, she ordered some. "That piglet had the worst diarrhea on cinnamon rolls. What a mess that was."
So much for polite table talk.
"I didn't know gluten could cause those kinds of issues." Tattoo Tex dug into the salsa, and I was relieved he didn't seem disgusted by Aunt Alfa's remark.
But time to change the subject.
"What's everyone ordering?" I quietly informed Brownie that he'd had enough chips, but he let out one tiny squeal.
"After what Alfa said, I think I'll pass on the burrito." Mervyn shoved his menu away as if it might bite him. "Doesn't the wheat wrap have gluten?"
"You been having the runs, Merv?" One point for Aunt Alfa's directness. Minus five hundred for using the word runs in front of a cute guy.
"Aunt Alfa, can we please discuss something else?"
Tattoo Tex had taken the first comment in stride, but a discussion about Mervyn's bowels was certainly not going to lead to romance.
Mervyn winked at Aunt Alfa. "I'll tell you later."
At least not for us.
The waitress arrived with the guacamole and asked what we wanted for dinner. Aunt Alfa and I ordered our usual. Mervyn ordered two chicken tacos, and Tattoo Tex ordered three cheese enchiladas.
"One more thing, please," I said, once the waitress finished scribbling on her notepad. "I'd like a platter of shredded lettuce."
If the waitress noticed who the lettuce was for, she didn't let on.
After the waitress left, I retrieved my phone—still no response to my text of Who is this?—and pulled up the flashcard website. I typed private investigator into the search bar and hit go. Seconds later a boxed set of Learn to be a PI flashcards materialized.
I angled the screen toward the group. "They have private-eye flashcards."
Aunt Alfa squinted at the write-up. "Study at your own pace to become a detective. Detailed information on evidence collection and developing strategies. Sounds like just what we need."
"I'll order them and print the cards out when we get back to the hotel. Hopefully the office has a paper cutter." The site already had my credit card info, so I ordered the electronic set, happy I wouldn't have to wait for mail delivery.
Tattoo Tex tapped a few buttons on his phone and stared at the screen. "I don't reckon I've ever seen flashcards like these. I wonder if they have cards for tattooing?"
"They might. I used this company all the time in college, and there wasn't any subject I couldn't find." Many nights I'd ordered more cards, depending on my studies. Anatomy, biology, the periodic table of elements, herbal remedies, homeopathy.
"Boy howdy, they do have some tattoo cards. Cool."
What's even cooler is that you think my dorky flashcards are cool.
"Glad I could show you something new." I petted Brownie at the same time he did, and our fingers brushed.
Holy chocolate babka. This guy is hot.
Before I could lose all control
and sweep the chips and salsa off the table so I could love-maul Tattoo Tex, the waitress arrived with our food.
She arranged the plates before us and held the platter of shredded lettuce up. Her dark eyebrows lifted. "Who's this for?"
Tattoo Tex and I both raised our hands and said, "Right here."
I was probably being ridiculous, or possibly drunk on pheromones, but as our fingers collided I knew why I was supposed to come to the New Beginnings Body, Mind & Spirit expo.
It wasn't for my book's new beginning. It was for my heart.
Tattoo Tex accepted the platter of lettuce, which was a good thing because I was so overcome with emotion that I probably would have dropped it. I bit my lip and forced myself not to act like a drama queen.
But it was darn hard. The past two years of living in fear about causing Floyd to have another stye had kept me from breaking free.
And now, after a platter of shredded iceberg lettuce, I had.
I turned to Tattoo Tex. "Thanks." For making me see what I need to do.
He cocked his head to the side. "You okay?"
How embarrassing. I sniffed and willed my eyes not to shine with tears. But fortunately a commotion at the register interrupted my near tear-fest.
"I ordered this before the early-bird special ended so I'm entitled to the five dollar price," a woman's voice I recognized said.
I turned in my seat and gawked at Vesta. She stood at the counter with her hands perched on her narrow hips in a very how-dare-you? manner.
Vesta glared at the man behind the register. "I'm not paying full price for that pork burrito."
Pork burrito? Wasn't she a vegan?
CHAPTER NINE
A Texan Killer?
I covered Brownie's ears when Vesta screeched her question about the pork burrito again. Poor little thing didn't need to hear about his cousin being part of the menu. It might give him nightmares. The girl behind the cash register called for a manager. An older man in a red shirt and white bow-tie rushed to the counter to settle the dispute.
I set my fork and napkin onto the table. "Since I'm investigating Mystic Ming's death, I think I should question Vesta about this discrepancy."
Mervyn used his hand as an eye-shield and peered at Vesta. "Didn't she claim to be a vegan?"
"Yep," I said. "She has a talk radio show called The Vegan Vixen."
Tattoo Tex looked down at his plate. "I've never thought healthy chicks were hot."
My heart stopped. Had my shredded lettuce epiphany been a dream?
A grin spread across Tattoo Tex's gorgeous face as he turned to level his gaze on me. "Until I met you." His voice was too quiet for Mervyn to hear, but I heard every word.
Phew. Epiphany still on.
Aunt Alfa waived her hand in disgust. "This is why I don't like psychics. They always make false claims, like 'I see your dead father. I sense good things coming your way.' Or 'I promise I'm a vegan.'" She shot me her auntie-knows-best look. "See what I'm talking about, Pipe?"
This time I did.
But I wondered if Vesta's lie was less about being a dishonest psychic and more about having a secret.
A secret that Ming had on her. Was Vesta's private love for pork burritos some hush-hush dirt Mystic Ming had lorded over her? Was that why she slaved over the stove for him? And, more importantly, could this be a motive for murder?
This PI stuff was kind of fun.
"I'll be right back." I smiled at Tattoo Tex.
He responded with, "Go get 'em, Detective Piper."
I practically floated toward the cash register. The manager spoke more with his hands than words. He jabbed a meaty finger at the sign taped to the register that read Early Bird Special Daily 'Til Five.
"Sorry, señorita, but it's after five."
"I ordered it before five o'clock, which my phone log proves, so that has to count." Vesta stomped her foot. "And I'm starving."
"But you don't pick up your order until six thirty." He tapped the face of his gold watch. "You're too late."
"That's not fair," she said. "I was being questioned by the police."
"The police?" He lifted his hands, palms out, and stepped back. "We don't want any trouble here."
I stepped in and tried a befriend-the-suspect tactic. "She was delayed, sir. Could you just honor the special price?"
Pretty smooth for a move I'd just created.
Vesta shot me a tense half-smile and then glanced at her order on the counter. Large pork burrito with X-tra cheese was scratched like graffiti in black ink across the brown paper. She whistled and turned the bag sideways.
Busted, you vegan poser.
I pretended not to notice. "It wasn't her fault that she's late."
"Lady, I'm trying to run a business."
"I know, but can you make an exception?" I gave him my best pleading look. "Isn't it only like a two or three dollar difference?"
"I need to call my boss. I'm just the assistant manager." He let out a few Spanish words beneath his breath. "Give me a minute."
He left us in an uncomfortable silence. Vesta tapped her foot on the tile while she fiddled with her phone.
"You must be devastated." I used my comforting tone, reserved for grieving clients. "I'm so sorry for your loss."
She laughed. "Loss? Are you kidding? The jerk boyfriend I told you about? It was Mystic Ming."
"Still, you must be saddened. Losing a boyfriend." I stepped back, pretending to be on her side, and thought about how to work in the discrepancy over her diet.
A pfft of air launched from her lips. "Not to sound heartless, but he was making my life miserable."
"How so?"
She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."
I set my hand on her arm. "You can tell me. We're Sparkle O sisters."
She shook out of my grip. "I don't—"
"We'll give you the deal this one time," the manager said, interrupting us. "You can have the early bird special on your pork burrito." He pounded a few keys on the register and then looked up. "Five-thirty-five with tax."
Vesta opened her cute pink bag, removed her credit card, and handed it to him. Then she pressed her lips together and inspected the ceiling.
Classic think-of-a lie behavior.
"What were you going to say a minute ago?" I asked.
She turned toward me with a sugary smile plastered on her glittery face. "Just that I only came here as a favor to the hotel manager."
Yeah, like I believe that.
"He's working so hard tonight with the investigation," she continued. "And he had no time to go get dinner."
"I imagine he must be terribly busy given the circumstances." I made sure my voice sounded genuine because I was going in for the kill with my next question. "But why'd you tell that guy you were starving?"
Her eyes widened. "I did? When?"
"When you were arguing with him and trying to save three bucks?"
"Señorita, your card." He returned her credit card.
She slid the plastic into her wallet and dropped it into her purse. Then she snatched the bag containing a meal that would make vegans recoil in horror. "I really shouldn't keep Wilbur waiting."
That name sounded familiar. Oh, right. The nametag on the desk when I spoke to Detective Fifi.
"Yes, don't keep Wilbur waiting," I said. "I have to see him later tonight to ask about a paper cutter. I'll ask him how he liked the burrito."
She blinked.
I stepped closer. "I'm sure a vegan like you would be curious about how it tastes, but not curious enough to actually take a bite. Right?"
Vesta opened her mouth like she was going to say something. But then she spun around and hurried out the door.
My first interview hadn't yielded a confession, but I had learned two parts of an interesting equation. Vesta wasn't a vegan. And she wasn't sad about Mystic Ming's death.
If my math was right, those factors added up to a motive. Maybe even murder.
* * *
Mervyn pulled his Caprice Classic up to the Manatee Inn and put it in park. "You kids have a fun night."
I glanced at Tattoo Tex, wondering who exactly the older gentleman meant. "Do you want to do valet, Mervyn? Or I can park the car for you?"
"No need." Aunt Alfa turned around and pressed her elbow against the cushy front seat. A naughty grin spread across her face. "We're going to go check out a place running a special on orthopedic shoes."
I glanced at the time on my phone. Quarter to eight. Were they still open?
I lifted my eyebrows. "Are you going shoe shopping, Aunt Alfa?" She wore heels everyday, and wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of orthopedic shoes. Her will stipulated she be buried in her favorite red suede stilettos.
"Just helping Mervyn find a new pair of loafers." She wiggled her eyebrows. "You go to sleep, and don't wait up for Samantha."
I blinked and suddenly realized what she was getting at. The Sex and the City reruns we loved to watch with dinner. She admired Samantha's sexual freedom. "I wish this show was on when I was in my twenties," she'd say as the credits rolled. "Would have validated my life, because things were so prudish back then."
I'd always thought she was kidding, but apparently not.
What was there to say except, "Have fun, Aunt Alfa." I paused and added, "You too, Mervyn."
I wrenched the door open and hopped out, unsure of what I really felt. Surprised that Aunt Alfa was making a move on Mervyn? Or depressed that I didn't have the nerve to do the same with Tattoo Tex?
Aunt Alfa leaned out the window and blew me a kiss. "Give that to Brownie when you tuck him in tonight."
Aw. I smiled.
Then she blew me another one. "That's for you, Pipe."
I returned the sentiment, and she retreated inside the car. Pride swelled in my heart. Aunt Alfa still rocked at age ninety-one.
Maybe there was hope for me?
Tattoo Tex joined me on the pavement with Brownie's bag pressed over his shoulder. We stood side-by-side while Mervyn revved the sedan. Aunt Alfa scooted over beside him, slid her arm around his neck, and kissed his cheek. Then he cranked it in drive and cruised away.
Tattoo Tex cleared his throat. "Your aunt's a hellcat."