Fifth Grave Past the Light - Darynda Jones Page 0,2
probably have taken it better if I’d been over eighteen when I suggested it. He wanted to know how many male revues I’d been to.
“Counting this one?” was apparently not an appropriate reply.
Someone put a plate of food in front of me.
“Compliments of the chef.”
I glanced up at Teri, my dad’s best bartender. She knew I was working an infidelity case and probably guessed that I’d struck out, thus the comfort food. The heavenly aroma hit me so fast, I had to force myself not to drool.
“Thanks.” I took a slice off the plate and sank my teeth into the best chicken quesadilla I’d ever had. “Wow,” I said, sucking in cool air as I chewed, “Sammy really outdid himself.”
“What?” she said over the crowd.
I waved her on and continued to eat, letting my eyes roll back in ecstasy. I’d been enjoying Sammy’s concoctions for years, and while they were always mouthwateringly good, this was incredible. I scooped equal parts guacamole, salsa, and sour cream onto the next bite, then went in for another trip to heaven.
Duff watched me eat while standing wedged between the back of my barstool and the guy standing next to it. His left half was inside Duff’s right. The guy looked up, searched the ceiling for air vents, turned to his left, his right, then… three… two… one…
He shivered and stepped away.
Happened every time. The departed were cold and when people stood inside one, the hairs on the backs of their necks rose, goose bumps shot across their skin, and a shiver ran down their spines.
But Duff wasn’t paying attention to the guy. While he pretended to center his attention on me, he kept a weather eye on the door to the kitchen, glancing over every few seconds, chewing on a nail.
Maybe the door to the kitchen was really a portal to heaven and if he stepped through it, he would cross to the other side. No, wait.
As I sat there stuffing my face, I began to wonder about something. I’d checked out Mrs. Tidwell’s Friendbook page while researching Mr. Tidwell for more pictures. I liked to take every precaution when approaching a mark to make certain I could recognize him or her when necessary. I got the wrong guy one time. It ended badly.
I dug my phone out of my jeans again, found Mrs. Tidwell’s profile, and clicked through her photo history. Sure enough, when they got married a little over a year earlier, Mrs. Tidwell had been much heavier. She’d clearly lost a lot of weight, and she’d kept a log on her page with her progress, losing over one hundred pounds over the past year. While I cheered her dedication, I began to wonder if Mr. Tidwell would share my enthusiasm or if he’d liked his wife better before.
The concept kind of floored me. Most guys strayed when their wives gained weight. Tidwell seemed to be straying for the opposite reason. Maybe he felt threatened by her new look. She was a knockout.
I panicked when Tidwell stood to leave. He threw down a few bills, then started for the door, and I realized this night would be a complete bust. I was really hoping for a money shot to put this case to bed. With my optimism dwindling, I began contemplating my schedule to set up a second attempt when Tidwell stopped. His gaze locked on the front door. I looked past him and almost gasped at the raven-haired vixen walking through it. The moment our eyes met, Barry White started playing through the speakers overhead. The lights dimmed and a smoky, sultry kind of aura centered on the newcomer.
Coincidence? I think not.
Enter Cookie Kowalski. Loyal, stalwart, and just the right size. Cookie walked toward me, her expression a mixture of curiosity and hesitance. Surely she wasn’t worried I’d get her into trouble.
And she was dressed to kill. She wore a dark pantsuit with a long sparkling frock and a silver scarf opened at the neck to reveal her voluptuous attributes.
“You saucy minx,” I said when she sat beside me at the bar.
She grinned and scooted closer to me. “This is okay?”
I looked her over again. “It’s fantastic. And it definitely did the job.”
Tidwell sat back down at his table, interest evident in every move he made. I gestured toward him with the barest hint of a nod. She did a quick scan of the room and let her gaze pause a fraction of a second on Tidwell before refocusing on me.