Diner Knock Out (A Rose Strickland Mystery Book 4)

by Terri L. Austin

  “I don’t know. Close your eyes. Rob’s told me a little about the fights. The men who run the ring are serious players. There’s a lot of money tied up in the fighters. It’s not a game.”

  I squinted one eye and cracked open the other. “Who, besides Will Carlucci, is in charge?”

  She stopped brushing my cheek. “I honestly don’t know. Everyone thinks Carlucci is this nice guy, giving money to kids’ charities, serving the community. He’s not a nice guy. He’s an asshole,” she whispered, and resumed painting my face. “Rob is in Carlucci’s stable.”

  “His stable?”

  “I wasn’t telling you the whole story last night. But now…Carlucci pays for the condo and the Escalade.” I’d already figured out that much, but I always appreciated confirmation. “He takes care of Rob’s medical bills. But it’s not free. Carlucci owns Rob. That’s why Rob has to keep fighting. Rob can’t turn pro, because he can’t leave. He owes Carlucci too much money. Okay, open your eyes.”

  “So there’s no way out?”

  “There’s one way. Rob needs to win one hundred fights, and they’ll cut him loose. He’ll walk away with a quarter of a million bucks, and all of his debt will be wiped clean. He’s got ninety wins so far, and he can fight twice a night. If he keeps on this streak, he’ll be out in five or six months. He’s so close to freedom. Turning pro is all he talks about.”

  “But you said his body can’t physically handle it.”

  She worked foundation onto my chin. “Yeah, that’s just a pipe dream of his. I want him out of the MMA business altogether. Anyway, I’m not convinced Carlucci will let Rob go, even if he does get to the magic number.”

  This Carlucci guy sounded like a crime lord, not a car salesman. “How did Rob get tied up in all this?”

  “He always wanted to fight professionally, but he needed more training. He used to go to these sleazy bars and sign up to fight on Friday nights. Those were even more brutal, if you can believe it. No rules, no weight class, just fight until you knock out your opponent. Then Carlucci approached Rob. Said he’d sponsor Rob’s training and offered a better venue.” Next she blotted me with powder. “I don’t think Rob realized what he’d signed up for. Or maybe he did. I don’t know.”

  “Then you had Olivia.”

  She looked down at me, her brown eyes filled with sadness. “Yeah. And she became my world. But not Rob’s. Fighting is his life.”

  I tried to imagine wanting something so much I’d sign over my entire future for it. Carlucci’s offer must have seemed like a lifeline at the time.

  “I heard Rob might be taking steroids.” I phrased it as gently as I could and watched her reaction. She didn’t flinch. “Is Carlucci providing those as well?”

  Sofia shrugged, turned to the counter, and grabbed two different blushes. She held them up to my cheeks. “I don’t know, but he was able to switch to the heavyweight division after he started taking them.”

  “I’ve heard that a lot of fighters get addicted to pain meds—all those injuries.”

  “Not Rob. Even through the worst pain, he likes to tough it out. His mom is an alcoholic, so he’s very sensitive to that type of thing. He rarely drinks, not even a beer.”

  Yet I’d found all those pills stashed in Rob’s recovery powder. He was up-front with Sofia about the steroids and the fight club. There was no reason for him to hide an opiate addiction. Unless he was afraid she’d leave for good, which happened anyway. Something didn’t add up, and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  Setting down the brush, Sofia leaned her hip against the counter. “He’s not the same guy I met five years ago. All those steroids make him moody. That’s one of the reasons I left for good this time. I have to be strong for Olivia.”

  My heart went out to her. No matter how this turned out, whether I found Rob or not, I had a feeling Sofia was going to wind up raising Olivia by herself.

  She’d been staring off in the distance, but now she blinked and took a deep breath. “Let’s do your eyes.” She grabbed a liner and rimmed my upper and lower lashes.

  “When Rob gets hurt, who treats him?” I asked.

  “There’s a doctor. Carlucci owns him too.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Cadwell? Cardwell? Something like that. He basically stitches Rob up and sends him home.”

  She brushed my lids with a taupey shadow, then used a little mascara. I stretched my facial muscles. All this makeup felt heavy, as though I were wearing a mask.

  “Listen,” she whispered, so softly I had to lean forward to catch her words, “don’t tell anyone about all this, okay? I can’t have Carlucci coming after us.” She grasped my hand, crushing my fingers. “Rose, I need to know what happened to Rob. Not just for me, but for Olivia.”

  “Of course. I’m going to do everything I can to track him down. I promise.” I felt the weight of that pledge settle over my shoulders, like a heavy mantle. I lied through my teeth on the regular and didn’t give it a second thought, but when I made a promise, I took it seriously.

  “Sofia, I heard Franco went to Buster’s gym and took a few swings at Rob. Do you know why?”

  “My brother means well, but he’s an idiot. He wants Rob to get a real job and start taking care of his responsibilities. This is the first I’ve heard about Franco confronting Rob at the gym, but I guess I’m not surprised.”

  “What do you know about Buster Madison?”

  “Not much. Rob likes him, respects him.”

  Since they’d split a few weeks ago, Rob probably didn’t tell her about his argument with Buster. Damn. I just kept striking out. Hopefully I’d learn something at the fight club tomorrow night.

  Sofia finished up with a touch of rosy lip gloss and stood back to view her work. “Wow, you’re gorgeous, Rose. Your eyes look big and bright and there’s color in your cheeks.” She stood aside, so I could see myself in the mirror. “What do you think?”

  Even though she’d used a dozen products, I didn’t appear made up. Sure, my lashes were a little longer, my lips a bit shinier, but I looked like myself. Just way hotter. “What’s the least expensive thing I’m wearing? Whatever it is, I’ll take it.”

  “Lip gloss. It’s less than forty.”

  I nearly sputtered. “Dollars?”

  “I’ll give you my employee discount. I’ll say you’re my cousin. Come on.”

  I trailed after her to the counter and emptied my wallet of tip money. Looking natural wasn’t cheap.

  Roxy and Sugar waited for me by the entrance.

  Sugar captured my chin between her fingers and moved my head from side to side. “Beautiful. See, Rox, I told you she was a summer.”

  Roxy shoved another piece of gum in her mouth. “So what’s the what? Did you find out anything from Sofia?”

  I jerked my chin from Sugar’s hand. “I found a solid link between the fight club and Will Carlucci. And Sofia made a police report.”

  “Fat lot of good that will do her.”

  Sugar gazed between the two of us. “Won’t the cops look for him? I mean, if the fiancée says he’s missing, won’t they have to take it seriously?”

  Roxy gave her a pitying look. “You’ve never dealt with Huntingford’s finest, have you?”

  “Only when I get stopped for speeding. I’ve never gotten a ticket, though.” She strutted off, checking her phone as she walked.

  Roxy inspected my face. “You look really pretty. Not that you need all that stuff. You look good without it.”

  I grinned at her. “Aw, thanks.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited. It’s not like I proposed or anything.”

  Chapter 7

  It was after five when I dropped the girls off at the diner. Roxy honked as she sped out, but I sat in the parking lot and called Kai Ada
ms. I wanted to get his take on the drugs I’d found at Rob’s condo. Maybe he could give a concrete answer about why Franco confronted Rob at the gym.

  When he told me he was still at the dojo catching up on paperwork, I shot up Apple Tree Boulevard, arriving at Kai’s studio ten minutes later.

  The dojo took up an entire strip mall. I knocked on the locked glass door and waited. A minute later, Kai appeared and let me into the large waiting room. Two dozen chairs filled the space, along with a glass coffee table and an enormous Buddha in one corner.

  “Come on in, Rose. Do you have any leads on Rob?”

  “Not yet. But I’ve spoken to Sofia, and I stopped by Buster Madison’s gym today.” He locked the door behind me and walked down a long hallway, past locker rooms and closed doors. “Are these your classrooms?”

  “Yeah.” He stopped at one, opened the door. Though the large rectangular area lacked windows, the wall-sized mirror helped reflect the light. “I have ten of these. Some are used as practice rooms. Come to my office and we’ll talk.” He crisscrossed through the building, leading me to the far corner. His office was a hodgepodge of cardboard boxes and various pieces of equipment. He moved an armful of fingerless gloves off the visitor’s chair so I could sit down.

  Once he settled behind his desk, he studied me. “If you haven’t found any leads on Rob, what’s up?”

  Straight to the point. I liked that in a client. “Do you know about Rob’s drug habit?”

  “You mean the steroids? Sure. You can’t bulk up that much without them. I don’t like it, but it’s Rob’s body, his choice.”

  “Is it a new thing with him or has he been taking them for some time?”

  He paused and cast his eyes to a poster of Bruce Lee tacked on the wall. “I started noticing over a year ago. That’s when he really blew up. Got stretch marks and everything. Why, do you think it has something to do with his disappearance?”

  I ignored his question. At this point, anything could be pertinent. “What about the pain pills?”

  His brows slammed together. “Pain pills? What kind?”

  “The serious kind. A lot of them.”

  “I’ve never seen Rob acting high. He’s always in complete control of himself. He doesn’t even take a Tylenol when he has a headache.”

  Sofia said the same thing. Rob wouldn’t swallow an over-the-counter pain pill, yet he had no problem injecting synthetic hormones into his body. Maybe Rob was selling the drugs, not using.

  If that was the case, I’d love to get a list of his clients and find out the name of his supplier. Although why would he sell drugs when he was such a freak about not taking them? Still, I didn’t rule it out. People did all sorts of strange things for money.

  “Any idea where he scored all those steroids?” I asked.

  “No.” Kai blew out a pent-up breath. “But to be honest, they’re not hard to get. He probably had a source at the gym. I’ve known high school kids who take them. How did you find out about the pain pills?”

  Again, I refrained from answering. “How well do you know Sofia’s brother, Franco?”

  He blinked at the change in topic. “I’ve never met the kid, but I know he doesn’t like Rob. Thinks Rob should get a real job and support his family.” He ran a hand through his short hair. “I really can’t believe he’s using pain meds. The steroids were bad enough. The guy’s going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t stop.”

  I tapped my chin in thought and then asked, “What’s the deal between Rob and Buster Madison? Do you know what they argued about?”

  Again, it seemed I’d thrown him for a loop. Leaning back in his chair, Kai huffed out a little laugh. “It seems you know more about my friend than I do. Drugs, arguments, family disagreements.” His eyes grew sad. “And here I thought we were pals.”

  “Where does Rob spend his off hours? Is there a bar or a club he likes to frequent?”

  “No. He doesn’t have much downtime. Training takes total commitment. At least that’s what I’ve always thought. But he could be living a secret double life, and I guess I wouldn’t know. Sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

  I stood and slung my bag over my shoulder. “Thanks, Kai. Don’t get too worked up about Rob’s lack of disclosure. People don’t like to share their dirty little secrets. Especially with friends. He was probably afraid of disappointing you.”

  He rose to his feet, shoved both hands into his jeans pockets. “I wouldn’t judge him. He should know that by now. You come in here asking all these questions, I feel like you’re talking about a stranger and not the guy I’ve known for the last four years.”

  I hoped my smile was reassuring, but I feared that nothing I said or did could make up for the bombs I’d dropped on Kai today. I sympathized with him. I had someone in my life who kept a lot of secrets. When it came to his past, Sullivan was as silent as a baseball stadium in the middle of December.

  Kai ushered me back through the dojo and opened the front door. “Thanks for stopping by. If you hear anything, let me know.”

  “Of course.” I stepped outside into the damp heat and climbed into an even hotter car.

  I rolled down the window, and while waiting for the air to kick in, called Ax. “So how’d it go? You didn’t give in and buy the orange pants, did you?”

  “No way. I now have three new pairs of stylin’ jeans that cost more than your car is worth. And I remember why I never shop. It’s exhausting, man.”

  “Good luck on Monday. I’ll be thinking of you.” I hung up and called Sullivan next.

  “Rose.”

  Hellos and goodbyes were too mundane for him. “What are you doing tonight? Want to meet up at my place? Have some dinner?”

  “I’d love to, but I have a business matter that’s come up.”

  Disappointed, I propped my elbow on the edge of the door and immediately regretted it. “Ow!” The metal strip burned my arm.

  “You all right?”

  “Super. Hey, I’m working on this case—”

  I heard deep voices speaking in the background. “I have to go, Rose. I’ll call you later.”

  Terrific. I’d plowed through my entire list of to-do items and was at a loss. Roxy was busy. Ax had exerted all of his energy at the mall. I was on my own.

  So I put the car in gear and went to check out Chez Carlucci. If nothing else, I could get the lay of the land.

  In northeast Huntingford, where properties came with acreage, I had to wind my way through curvy country roads to find Will Carlucci’s estate. Surrounded by a tall spiked fence and a dense grouping of trees, I didn’t even catch a glimpse of the house itself. The gates were overly fussy, with wrought-iron swirls and gold leaf initials WC. My mother would have shuddered at the ostentation. Visible cameras had been mounted on the trees and along the fence. They followed me as I puttered up the street, stopping long enough to get a gander at the setup.

  Though I hated to admit it, I couldn’t get through those gates on my own. I needed to get ahold of Sullivan, find out what he knew about Will Carlucci. If not, I’d be forced to ask my mother. I did have a family dinner tomorrow night. It would be the perfect time to talk to her. But first, I’d have to eat a big piece of humble pie—my least favorite flavor.

  Giving up on Carlucci for the night, I stopped by the Burger Barn on my way home. Standing at the sink in my kitchenette, I snarfed up a fat-laden burger and monster tots, then, properly sated, fired up ye olde laptop. I wanted to Google Jimmy Duncan, the fighter who’d been talking with Sugar this afternoon, the one with a pair of lips tattooed on his ass.

  According to his social media sites, Jimmy worked for Sanders and Associates. And he had a penchant for taking shirtless selfies. I glossed over the selfies and did a search on his employer.

  Sanders and Associates was a local land development company
. Wyatt Sanders was the head of an ecofriendly firm and a millionaire to boot. His latest project, a holistic hotel and spa located on the outskirts of Huntingford, promised to use the latest green technology.

  My spidey sense started to tingle. Could Wyatt Sanders be a part of the fight club? After all, Will Carlucci owned Rob. This could be the same type of setup. Jimmy didn’t strike me as an overly bright bulb, and he didn’t specify what type of work he did for Sanders and Associates. I wondered if Jimmy was part of Wyatt’s stable. Andre would say I was jumping to conclusions, but my gut told me I was right. Then he’d argue that my gut wasn’t a good investigative tool, but he wasn’t here, therefore, he could suck it. So sad, too bad, Hardass.

  I added Wyatt Sanders to the list of people I wanted to interrogate and fell asleep with my notebook tucked under my pillow.

  Sundays at the diner catered to early bird sinners and afternoon saints. Since the Fourth of July was right around the corner, Ray added a patriotic item to the menu: blueberry-strawberry pancakes topped with whipped cream. For some reason, people loved themed food.

  Throughout the morning, Roxy and I caught snatches of time where we could chat. I briefly told her about Wyatt Sanders and she described Sugar’s new routine. Something about floating scarves.

  At eleven, right before the church crowd congregated, Andre stiffly walked into the diner. He marched up to the empty table I’d just finished bussing.

  “I see you’ve heard about our patriotic pancakes,” I said with a smile.

  To be fair, he didn’t usually return my witty banter with a quip of his own, but today he was even more humorless than normal. “I’d like to speak with you.” He glanced around the diner, his sharp gaze raking over the checkerboard floor, the faded wallpaper. “Alone. Now.”

  Whew, someone rebooted on the wrong side of the bed this morning. “Sure.”

  Roxy cruised over and gave him a wink. “How’re tricks, Officer Thomas?” Her puffy blue and white dress was very Alice in Wonderland, complete with a pair of fuzzy white rabbit ears shooting up from her blue hair.