Juni shrugs. “Who the hell knows why they lock pretty girls up in the pokey these days? I’m a divorcee twice over. I haven’t had much luck with coloring inside the legal lines. But mmm”—she tugs at her blouse and tests the durability of those buttons as she gazes off to some unknown lusty pasture beyond me—“those prison guards with their sexy muscles, those tight-fitted shirts, those angry, hostile stares. And ooh the way they squeezed me tight.” She takes a page out of her mother’s overheated book and fans herself with her fingers. “I’m about ready for my next trip up the river.”
“What?” I squawk, half-afraid she’ll empty the registers just to ensure it.
She rolls her eyes. “Please, I’m kidding.” That faraway look returns to her eyes. “But what I wouldn’t do to get in front of that ornery judge once again. Blue eyes, black hair, and those heavy lids of his as he says get in my private chambers so I can punish you proper.”
Good heavens. Fish yowls. Someone toss a glass of water over her. I think she’s in heat.
Cinnamon barks. Can we have her arrested? I think she agitates Georgie.
I give a little nod. I think she agitates the free world.
Georgie slams her hand over the table. “Enough of your sparkling love life, Juniper Moonbeam. All that talk of comely prison guards and hot-to-trot judges—it’s clear that Bizzy here is getting a wee bit jealous.”
Fish chortles and, my goodness, it sounds like a bona fide laugh.
Georgie leans in. “Let’s help solve this case so you and Detective Wilder can get a little wild yourselves. What’s on the agenda? If anyone here has a criminal mind, it’s my Juni.”
I won’t disagree with her on that.
I proceed to tell them about yesterday’s faux pas and how it bristled Jasper’s feathers because he’s afraid he can’t keep me safe.
Juni balks, “If he really wanted to keep you safe, he’d make sure you were packing heat.”
“Heat?” I inch back. “As in a weapon?”
Sherlock barks. I’d talk to Jasper first if I were you. He doesn’t even like me touching his no-no.
In contrast to Sherlock, I’m afraid Jasper will gleefully hand me his no-no. My biggest fear is Jasper being onboard with the idea.
“I don’t think I want to buy a gun.”
Juni juts her chin out, as if trying to piece together why I would reject such an explosively brilliant idea.
“Why not?” she hoots. “You can pick one up anywhere on the cheap. Like, say, a pawn shop?”
I’m about to shake my head when my mouth falls open.
“Yes,” I say. “Like a pawn shop.”
Fish meows sweetly. I wouldn’t do it, Bizzy. Cinnamon has been chewing on everything. And no matter how hard I hide my toys, she not only finds them, but she destroys the squeaky. If that gun has a squeaky, it will be toast.
I have a feeling Cinnamon would be toast if she gnawed on a pistol.
I plant a kiss over the top of Fish’s head and set her down next to Sherlock. “I say we pack up these pets and head down to the nearest pawn shop. What do you say, ladies?”
Fish roars. Count me out, Bizzy. I’ll keep the inn safe from predators. She scampers as fast as she can back toward the reception counter.
Georgie and Juni let out a roar of their own—a roar of approval. The way they’re whooping and hollering you’d think we were headed off to have a steamy time with a trio of prison guards.
Georgie stands and links her arm through Juni’s.
“Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, to buy a gun we go,” Georgie sings while Juni does an odd little constricted hop and skip all the way to the door, a move I’m pretty sure she perfected during her time in shackles.
Cinnamon bops in Georgie’s arms while looking back at me. Hurry, Bizzy! Before they leave without you!
Sherlock strides by my side as we head their way.
I don’t know, Bizzy. I think you should see what Jasper thinks first. I’m not sure if Georgie and Juni are powerful enough to keep you safe.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Jasper knows all about my little adventure.” I’m just not sure if I’ll let him in on it before or after it happens.
Besides, I’m not really going to buy a gun.
I’m simply gunning for a killer.
Edison is lovely this time of day. That is, if you’re in the mood for a strip club or a dicey weapon that could inflict bodily harm.
The Pawn King is a tiny little nugget nestled between an exotic plants shop and the Liquor Emporium. The sign out front boasts Pawn with comfort!
I hold Cinnamon tight as Georgie minds Sherlock on his leash.
Juni takes a look at the sign and lets out a hoot before smacking her mama on the arm.
“Would you look at that?” she honks out the words. “Comfort. That means free booze for everyone.”
We head on in, and much to my surprise and delight, it’s clean and spacious. A large glass counter wraps around the periphery of the shop and there are a few curios that line the middle of the store with odds and ends in them. An armed guard stands at the door with his beefy muscles bulging out of his shirt. And as soon as he spots Juni, his stubbled cheeks hike with a smile as he nods her way.
Georgie groans at the sight of him before smacking her dicey daughter right back.
“Jumpin’ Juniper!” Georgie howls. “Would you look at the wall of muscles? Hello”—she staggers forward—“come to Mama.”
Juni pulls her back. “Down, girl. I’ve got dibs on all correctional officers.” She wastes no time getting in his face. “If you’ve got the crime, I can do the time.”
Why do I get the feeling that’s a line she’s used before—and it’s come to fruition?
“Come on,” I say, taking Sherlock’s leash from Georgie. “We’ll let them duke it out while we solve a crime of our own.”
Sherlock moans. I don’t want to get arrested, Bizzy. You don’t think Jasper will come here and take us downtown, do you?
“With my luck? It’s hard to say. But don’t worry. We should be quick.”
Good. Sherlock shudders. I don’t like spending time with that Camila. She sits on Jasper’s desk the entire livelong day. And she doesn’t have any bacon for me like Georgie, or a kind smile like you do.
I straighten at the thought of Camila sitting on Jasper’s desk all day long like a sexed-up cinder block.
Cinnamon titters. Oh dear, Bizzy. I can see the jealousy in your eyes. You really do love that man, don’t you?
“I do,” I confess. “And I really don’t care for Camila. The woman is harder to get rid of than a cockroach.”
“Did I hear you say cockroach?” A man behind the counter calls to me with a wave. He’s tall and lean, with a long goatee and a friendly looking smile.
I traipse on over with my menagerie.
“Hi, I’m looking for a gun.” Words I never thought would come from my mouth.
He squints over at me with a touch of suspicion. “Ever shot one?”
“Nope.” I probably should have at least hesitated if I wasn’t going to lie.
“Ever held one?” His left brow hikes as if he were amused.
“Nope.”
His mouth opens for a moment. “Okay. I’ll show you what I got. In fact, I’ve got a two-for-one special going on right now.”
Sherlock vocalizes for a moment. It sounds like they’d sell one to me if they could.
Cinnamon chortles. They are having a two-for-one special. I can get one, too.
They’ve got a point.
The man walks me to the next counter where a plethora of weaponry greets me in the locked glass case beneath the counter.
“I’ve got Glocks, .38 Specials. You name it. You want something pink and fashionable? I’ve got that, too. Maybe something short and sassy?”
He points to a tiny gun that looks every bit like a toy my brother once had when we were kids.
Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure they’ve outlawed those kinds of toys s
ince then, and I can see why.
“You’ve got quite the selection,” I say, looking at them row by row to see if I can find one that looks just like the murder weapon. It might have been dark that night, but when it gleamed in my hand, I memorized it.
“What do you want it for, little lady? You don’t look like the type who needs to fire a warning shot or two at a couple of debt collectors. You’re too pretty. Too clean.” He glances to Cinnamon and Sherlock. “You got well-behaved pets, too. I’m guessing you got an ex after you.”
My lips part, but not a sound comes from me. “Something like that,” I say. “It’s complicated.” A thought comes to me. “I work down in Cider Cove. We’ve been having a rash of homicides.” I genuinely shudder. “I just want to keep safe.”
“Ooh yeah.” His demeanor darkens. “I heard about that. You guys need to hire a SEAL team to keep watch over that sleepy seaside town. I think the crazies are using it as a serial killer training ground.”
Both Sherlock and Cinnamon moan.
Good Lord, that fun fact probably has an inkling of truth to it. And then it’s as if a heavenly choir bursts out in song.
“This one!” I say, stabbing my finger on the glass over a replica of the exact same gun I held in my hand that night. “Hey?” I pretend to feign surprise. “I think I’ve seen this gun before. Yes, I have. I saw the sheriff’s department handling one just like it the night Lad Warner was killed.”
His lids spring wide. “That would be the gun, all right.” He gives a wistful shake of the head. “But not this one, of course. The sheriff’s department is probably going to let the murder weapon rot in an evidence drawer somewhere. A shame when you think about it. A perfectly good weapon gone to waste.”
“Yes, well, it killed a person. It probably deserves to rot,” I say it low as if I were whispering to Cinnamon and she gives a soft bark right back.
I couldn’t agree more, Bizzy.
My arms tighten around her before I lean in toward my new friend, the pawn king.
“So you know all about the gun?” I ask as I tilt my ear his way. “Who do you think purchased the weapon? I mean, an upright organization such as yourself probably has a record of it, right?”
He bats a hand through the air. “I don’t have time for recordkeeping. You buy one of these pretties, I’ll promise to zip my lips.”
“Great,” I mutter. “I mean, great.” I force a smile. “Who needs records? Someone as handsome and smart as you probably has the ability to practically memorize what you sell and to whom.” I let the ego stroke sink in and watch as a wide smile spreads across his face. “Hey, you wouldn’t by chance remember who bought that gun, would you? I bet you do,” I say. “I bet you recall it with crystal clarity.”
“That I do.” He doesn’t hesitate with the answer. “I can tell ya”—he leans across the counter, his marbled green eyes bearing hard into mine—“but then I’d have to kill ya.”
Both Sherlock and Cinnamon break out into a series of semi-aggressive barks.
“Whoa whoa,” he bellows it out with laughter. “Call off the cute cavalry. I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t hurt your mama for nothin’. Especially after I sell her one of these babies.” He points to the glass case. “And as for that other gun, it was the dead man himself who came in and bought it.”
“What?” It squeaks out of me with surprise. “It was Lad himself?”
“Yup. And now he’s dead as a doornail. I’m telling you, I don’t sell toys. You put one of these in the wrong hands and things can go very wrong for you.”
“Like it did for Lad,” I pant, suddenly struggling to catch my breath. “Did he say why he needed the gun?”
His eyes travel toward the ceiling. “He mentioned it was for his friend, an artist. He wanted her to have protection.”
“Was he alone when he made the purchase?”
He glances to the ceiling. “Nope. He had a brunette cutie much like yourself with him that day. I’ve seen her around town a time or two.”
Madeline? She has brown hair and blue eyes just like me and happens to work just down the street at the art center. He could have easily seen her around town a time or two.
He shrugs. “I already told the detective that came nosying around here all of that. Still no arrest, though. I guess it wasn’t such a big break in the case.”
A brief prickling runs through me. “You told the homicide detective in charge?”
“That would be him. Detective Jasper Wilder. Talked to him a few days ago.”
I swallow hard.
How do you like that? Jasper’s been sitting on a wealth of information and he didn’t bother to share. Not that I expect him to.
Sherlock and Cinnamon get antsy, and I thank the man before tearing Georgie and Juni down from Mount Muscles.
“Where to now, Bizzy?” Georgie shouts as we make a break for the car.
“The art center down the street. I’m either going to meet with the killer or she’ll lead me right to them.”
Either way, Madeline Harper, I’m coming for you.
Chapter 15
Lucky for me, the Carter Art Center is located just a hop and a skip away from the Pawn King. And lucky for Georgie and Juni, this sip and paint has a live model—a man of a certain age, who is currently deprived of a single stitch of clothing. He’s surrounded by heart-shaped mylar balloons, a couple of lit candles, and a box of chocolates in one of those fancy velvet heart-shaped boxes next to him.
“Oh, Juniper Moonbeam!” Georgie cries out as she strangles Juni’s arm. “You’ve always been my good luck charm.”
The entire class begins to giggle just as Madeline Harper quickly strides this way.
“Bizzy!” She gives a cheery wave. “Three of you today?”
“Oh, we haven’t paid.” I shake my head her way as if declining the offer.
“You can ante up afterwards.” She motions for us to follow her. “And the dogs are welcome to stay.” She takes Cinnamon from my arms as she seats us in the right-hand corner, a little too close to the fleshy subject matter at hand for my liking, but the rest of my party seems pleased.
Sherlock whimpers as he spins in a circle. Why isn’t that man wearing any clothes, Bizzy?
Cinnamon whines as well. Why is he covered with fur? And what a small tail he has—in front, no less.
Oh good Lord. I turn my head toward Madeline until I’m practically facing the opposite direction of the furry subject at hand.
Georgie and Juni get right to work, sketching, mixing their acrylics, imbibing.
“Sorry about the other night.” I wrinkle my nose at the adorable brunette. “My sister has never been able to hold her liquor.”
“Don’t worry about it. We get a live one at least once a week. She helped us meet our quota.” She nuzzles her face into Cinnamon’s fur and Cinnamon nuzzles right back.
A warm laugh bounces from me. “I’m glad she could help. And since you’ve met your quota, I’ll make sure these girls behave.” I nod to Georgie and Juni, each with a glass of wine in hand.
Who knew this day would devolve into day drinking?
Me, that’s who.
And ironically, I’m not having a sip.
Madeline giggles into Cinnamon’s neck.
“I’m not worried about it, Bizzy. How’s everything at the inn? Getting ready for Valentine’s Day?”
“Oh, we’re ready. I’ve got the place decorated in more hearts and Cupid cutouts than should ever be legal. And the Country Cottage Café has an entire Valentine’s menu plotted out for the day of. Heart-shaped pancakes for breakfast, spaghetti and heart-shaped meatballs for lunch.”
“What about dinner?” She blinks my way and there’s an innocence about her. She doesn’t exactly scream killer, but then, if I’ve learned anything from my past encounters with homicidal maniacs, you can never be too sure.
“The café will be closed for dinner. In fact, the inn will be running with a skeleton staff. Everyone else will be at the com
munity center for Cider Cove’s annual Valentine’s Day dance. You should really come. It’s not far, and there will be lots of eligible men.”
Her eyes trail to the door.
How I miss Lad. Who knew some of the best memories I’d ever have would be attained while playing the part of mistress? Not that he was married. She sighs. But he was taken—by two other people.
“Maybe I will go.” She shrugs. “I mean, I guess you never know what will happen. It couldn’t get any worse than that singles mingle, blind date with Cupid catastrophe.” Her shoulders rise to her ears. “Did they ever catch the killer?” A tiny smile curls at the tips of her lips as if she were keeping a secret and whatever it is, delighted her.
“Not that I know of.” I lift a brow her way. “I heard the detective spoke to the guy at the pawn shop down the street.” I nod as if insinuating I have a little secret of my own. “It turns out, Lad bought the murder weapon himself. Can you believe it? He bought the very gun that only a few weeks later would be used against him. I wonder who he could have been buying that gun for? Himself? To give to someone as a gift? And if so, it does beg the question—did whoever he gave it to use it against him?”
She sucks in a quick breath. “That’s probably exactly what happened.”
Sherlock circles around her. Let’s arrest her, Bizzy. She’s getting agitated. Jasper says that’s a clear sign of guilt.
Madeline takes a breath as she stares off past me. “Bizzy, you’re not going to believe this, but I—uh, just so happened to be at the pawn shop that day. And since Lad and I were friends—” I truly hope she’s lousy at reading faces. I’ll never win an award for lying. “Anyway, he said he was buying that gun for the special woman in his life—Emily.”
“He said that?”
She gives a quick nod. “Apparently, the gun she did own was a little too big for those evening handbags she likes to tote around on fancy nights—sort of like the night he was killed. And I bet either she or her uptight daughter did the deadly deed.”
Cinnamon’s left ear rises a notch as she groans, But why would they do it?
I lean in. “Why would they want to kill Lad? I know you mentioned Paige didn’t care for him, but why?”
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