Pecan Pie Predicament (Murder in the Mix #27) - Addison Moore Page 0,53

on my way here and she was, well, she’s started that twitchy fingers salon in the back of her van called A Whole Lotta Touchin’. Anyway, I’ll have Noah write her a ticket later. Look at this.” I pull up the picture of the man in the fedora and enlarge it until we can partially make out his face. He looks to be somewhere in his thirties, has facial scruff, high cheekbones, and thin lips. That’s the same guy we saw roughing up Hannah the day she was killed.”

“Let me see this.” He takes the phone and holds it out a notch. “I think I’ve seen this man in my courtroom.” He shakes his head. “Actually, I know exactly who this is.”

“We have to find him, Everett. It’s pertinent we speak with him as soon as possible.”

“Sorry, Lemon. But I don’t think you want to be anywhere near this guy. He’s dangerous. He’s not just a suspect. He just might be the killer.”

Chapter 12

Everett wouldn’t offer up a single detail about the mysterious man in the hat. And believe me, I tried all of my dirty tricks to get the info out of him.

He was worried that I would take off after the guy before he had a chance to finish up at the courthouse and he still had a long day ahead of him. Although, he did inadvertently offer up two clues. He said the man was dicey, and that he was well-known for his underground activity.

Honestly, that’s all he needed to tell me. I no sooner jumped back into my minivan than I drove down to Leeds, right to that dicey club Meg happens to work at where there is more than its fair share of underground activity.

Red Satin Gentleman’s Club is the last place I want to be today, but no sooner do I pull up than I find a familiar van parked out front with a line of men ten deep just waiting to get their turn at the massage of a lifetime—as advertised off the back.

“Oh my sun and moon above Honey Hollow.” I can’t move fast enough as I elbow my way to the front. “Carlotta!” I pluck her out of the van without bothering to look inside to see what’s going on.

Her face is red, her hair is mussed, her hands are dripping with oil, and she reeks of patchouli.

“Lot?” She staggers a moment as if she was stunned. “What’s happening? The last thing I remember is I was taking a magic carpet ride.”

A man with a hairy chest steps on out, buttoning his shirt before landing a roll of twenty-dollar bills into her hand.

“Good work, twitchy fingers.” He winks before making his way into the seedy establishment.

Why do I get the feeling he was the aforementioned carpet?

“Twitchy fingers?” I called it. A growl emits from me. “All right, everyone, Twitchy Fingers is taking a twenty-minute break.”

The crowd moans and groans, but eventually makes their way inside, and I pull Carlotta with me as we do the very same thing.

Inside, Red Satin lives up to the lusty hue in its moniker. The walls, the floor, the stage, the lights that offer this place a smidge of incandesce—they all share that tawdry shade. The women are just about nude, save for star-shaped pasties, short shorts, and high heels. And the men are drunk, drooling, and begging to part with their money. The music is loud, and the girls shaking their stuff up on stage don’t have nearly enough clothes.

“What did you do that for, Lot? I made two hundred dollars in the last two hours. This isn’t a bad gig, you know. I got the feeling you didn’t want me in front of your prissy little bakery, so I followed my instincts all the way down to Leeds.”

“Yeah, well, your instincts are going to lead all the way down to the cemetery. You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days. It’s not safe to invite strange men into your van and oil them up for money. You’re just asking for trouble.” I crane my neck a moment. “There’s Meg by the bar. I’ve got an important question to ask her. Stick with me, and I’ll buy you something to wet your whistle.”

Meg teaches the dancers in this sleazy joint their moneymaking moves. She’s so good at it, other sleazy gentleman’s clubs have requested her services, and now she teaches classes on a rotation. I always knew she’d make a unique contribution to

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