Why I didn’t have one before, I don’t know. Maybe because the most notorious murder in Holly Woods’ history was when Bert Stanfield was killed over a barrel of beer and a cow.
Plot twist: he wasn’t. He shot himself after mixing up the moonshine bottle and the vodka bottle.
So, yeah. I never felt the need for a full alarm system in my house. There’s always been one in the Bond P.I. offices for obvious reasons, but who in their right mind would break into a cop-turned-PI’s house?
Precisely.
I wouldn’t.
My phone rings, and I groan when I see Nonna’s name flash up. The woman is seventy-five. She shouldn’t have a damn cell phone.
“You should answer that,” Bekah says.
Alison glances at the screen. “God yeah. She knows I’m here tonight. She’ll just call me and interrogate me about finding you a husband.”
“Freakin’ hell,” I mutter before answering. “Hi, Nonna.”
“Noella! You having fun-a at-a girl’s night?”
“Yes…” I answer slowly. And suspiciously.
“Buono! I want to tell-a you something.”
“Oh no.”
“Sì! I canceled Friday night-a dinner with-a Christofordo!”
“The date you set me up with?” What a name, my friends.
“Sì!”
“Well, grazie, Nonna. I appreciate it.”
“I promise-a him you go out-a with him after you solve-a the murder!” she reels off excitedly. “Sì?”
I clench my teeth in a pained expression. “We’ll see, okay?”
“Sì!” she shrieks. “Ciao!”
“Bye,” I mutter, all but throwing my phone down the back of my sofa. I summarize the conversation, much to Bekah and Alison’s amusement, and hold my cocktail glass out for a refill of margarita.
Girls’ night is just about the only time you’ll get me drinking something other than Jack Daniel’s, and even then, it’s because of peer pressure.
And I’m simply too lazy to make margs for one.
“I want to be her,” Bekah groans as Sean flips Pussy over his shoulder onto the hay bales.
I sigh. “Me, too. Damn my lack of actin’ skills.”
“I auditioned for a Bond movie once,” Alison says. “Then I got there and realized I was too darn Texas to be a Bond girl.”
“So jealous,” I mutter. “Really, Daniel Craig doesn’t hold a candle to Sean Connery, but I definitely wouldn’t mind getting shot by his gun.”
We three stare at each other for a second before we collapse into giggles. I spill a little cocktail. I’ve never pretended to be balanced, especially when giggles ensue.
We laugh and laugh, fueled by the alcohol swirling through our systems. Every time I think we should stop, Bekah makes a shooting motion with her fingers and we laugh all over again.
You know you have the best girlfriends when you’re all knocking on thirty’s door but feel like you’re eighteen when you’re together.
Bekah’s phone pings on the coffee table, and she leans forward to grab it. Seconds after swiping the screen, she groans. Alison and I share a look.
“Uh…” Alison’s eyes flick to her.
Bekah sighs. “I joined Tinder. You know, the dating app?”
I nod. Tinder has popped up more than once in infidelity cases.
“My cousin met this really great guy, so I figured I’d try it out. I have nothing to lose, right?”
“So, what’s the problem?” Alison asks.
“The guys are…creeps,” she whispers. “They say some real odd stuff. Like, listen to this.” She picks her phone back up and reads, “‘I’ve been feeling a little off all day, but you just turned me on.’”
I purse my lips to fight my giggle. “Oh, wow. Romeo, eat your heart out.”
“It’s not even the worst.” Bekah’s face wrinkles up. “Listen to this one: ‘Your body is sixty-five percent water, and honey, I’m thirsty.’”
“How did you answer that one?” I snort.
“I told him he could turn on the tap and get one hundred percent water if he needed a drink that badly.”
We all laugh. Then Alison reaches over and taps my arm. “Hey, why don’t you join, Noelle? It would keep Nonna off your back.”
“Oh! Do it!” Bekah exclaims. “Then you’re kind of actively datin’ and she can’t go on too much.”
I raise an eyebrow skeptically. “And I suppose Tinder just happens to be full of men with Italian blood.”
“Let’s find out!” Alison grabs my phone, and I lean over as she downloads the app.
This is going to end badly. Not least because I don’t have the time to date on account of my job, but because I’m happy not dating. I agree to Nonna’s dates once, maybe twice, a month to keep her happy, but as soon as I mention what I do, the guy basically jumps out the window.
Apparently, my job is intimidating.
I say that those men are boys playing dress up with Daddy’s clothes.
“We need a picture of you. Do you have a good one on your phone?”
“Maybe when you get past some of the images of cheating spouses.” I wince when she shoots me a dark look. “Okay, okay. I’ll go take one.”
“Put lipstick on!” Bekah shouts as I leave the room.
I look to the ceiling as I make my way upstairs to my bathroom. I rifle through my makeup bag and extract my lipstick. My phone buzzes from next to the sink just as I smack my red lips together.
Drake.
“What?”
“That’s professional,” he replies.
“I’m not working. I’m at girls’ night getting manhandled into joining Tinder. What do you want?”
He doesn’t say anything for a second. “Tinder? That dating app?”
“It’s a long story. I’m supposed to be taking a profile picture right now. According to Alison, a cheating couple using a leather whip won’t cut it.” Shame.
Another silence. “I’m not sure how to reply to that.”
“You could just tell me why you’re callin’, ya know.” Duh.
“I spoke to Ryan earlier,” Drake finally says. “You should probably have a meeting with your client.”
“Or you could save me the awkwardness of seeing his serially cheating butt and just tell me how it went,” I say hopefully.
“Confidential. I brought him in for questionin’.”
“You did that deliberately, you bastard!”
I can almost hear him grin down the line.
“He’s jumped so far up my suspect list that he’s the only one on it, Noelle. I wanted that shit recorded.”
And I can’t get access to those tapes unless the HWPD hires me.
No way. Rules and restrictions like needing warrants to access information will make this way harder.
“That’s a shame,” I sigh. “I was going to copy all the information on Lena and Daniel for you. You know, the info you’ll need to get warrants to access at the station? Oh well. I guess you don’t need it on file.”
“Noelle—”
“Sorry, Detective. Gotta go.” I hang up with a shit-eating grin and snap my profile picture.
There. If I have to do it, at least I’m actually smiling.
Apparently, Detective Drake Nash doesn’t take well to threats.
I mean, I wasn’t threatening him. I was promising that he wouldn’t get the information, but whatever. He also mentioned something about blackmail, but he knows as well as I do that it won’t stick because I didn’t technically blackmail him.
I did for the autopsy report, but he gave me it, so that’s moot.
I erase all the angry messages from both my cell and my office phones. The machine kept cutting him off, and he got progressively more irate with each message he had to leave. I’m doing everything I can not to burst into crazy laughter.
To be fair, I was going to give him the information. He could have applied for a warrant to get it while he already had a head start. I want this damn case solved as much as he does, and clearly, the connection between Lena and Daniel is a pivotal point in the case.