My life has never been simple.
I don’t see why it should start in that direction now.
Chapter 11
All morning and well into the afternoon at the Manor Café I think about the nefarious origins of this sparkler on my wrist. Of course, I’m wearing it. Who in their right mind would leave a gem like this locked away for safekeeping? As far as I’m concerned, whoever sent this to me via snail mail already knows exactly where I live.
I suppose that depressing fact alone should have me tossing my secondhand treasures into Wanda’s trunk and zipping off to Canada where I should have gone to begin with. But not one inch of my fugitive flesh wants to boot scoot to the Great Frozen North. Why would I want to snuggle with a polar bear when I could snuggle with a stud muffin who brings me jewels at midnight?
Regina struts over with a sour expression on her face.
“Oh, come on, stop staring at that string of fakes as if it weren’t tacky. I almost feel sorry for you.” She pulls my wrist forward and examines the bauble dripping from it with the expert scrutiny of a jeweler. “My God, I think this is the real deal. Who gave this to you? Was it the old man who sat in the corner yesterday? I gave him thirteen refills and looked the other way when he almost gassed the entire café out onto the patio.”
“Nope.” I pluck my wrist back. “Shep gave it to me.” I shrug over at her with a mischievous smile. I couldn’t help it. That little nugget not only rings true, but it’s worth the guaranteed rise I’ll get out of her.
A laugh bucks from her chest.
“Shep doesn’t give diamonds,” she’s quick to school me. “And if he did, he would have passed a few my way a long time ago. I earned them.”
“The old-fashioned way, I’m assuming.”
A shadow darkens the counter, and we turn to find my diamond dealer himself at hand.
Regina cinches a knowing smile. “Bowie Bologna here thinks you gifted her this tennis bracelet. Newsflash: it’s real and I think it’s hot—as in stolen property.” She shrugs my way. “Sorry, boss, but I have no problem turning you over to the authorities.”
“Go on, Shep.” I bite down on a naughty grin waiting to take over my face. “Tell Regina where I got this icy bling.”
His chest expands, and that look in his hooded eyes lets me know I’ll pay for this later. If only he knew the ways I preferred to be punished.
“I gave it to her.” He glances to Regina. “Does that answer your question?”
“What?” The word rips from her like an expletive. “Oh no, you didn’t.” She swats him with a dishrag. “You’ve known her for less than five minutes, and I gave you the best six months of my life.”
He inches back. “Regina, we were never together.”
“Aaargh!” she roars in his face before taking off to tend to customers. Judging by that scowl and raging look in her eyes, the only tip she garners today might be a foul odor or two.
“Bowie.” Shep growls.
“What? I had to tell her it came from you. I don’t like to lie,” I say, petting my new toy. “So what brings you to the café? Ready to pen your next masterpiece?”
“I was just on my way to question a suspect when I got the heads-up regarding the mystery mail you’ve been receiving.”
I gasp as I make my way around the counter. “Where did it come from?”
“Pennington.”
My fingers fly over my lips. “That’s right next door to Hastings.” The words come out whiny, and it makes me hate my ex Johnny Rizzo even more for making me resort to it.
“I know.” Shep sighs hard as he steps in close. “I’m sorry, Bowie. You might be in very real danger. But don’t worry.”
“Why? Do you have a way to fix this?”
His cheek flinches and that dark scruff begs for me to touch it.
“No,” he says. “I just don’t want you to worry. Take care of the café. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“I was just about to leave myself.” I lift a brow his way.
“Bowie.” He closes his eyes a minute too long. “All right. Let’s have it. Who are you off to see?”
“You go first,” I say.
“Lucas Lane.”
“My, my.” A daring smile rides on my lips. “Aren’t we living in a small, rotten world?”
Shep scowls my way at the thought.
“Just give me a second, Honey Bunch.” I give a cheeky wink as I collect my purse. “My car or yours?”
Shep drove. As he should. His truck is just a hair more reliable than Wanda.
On the way over, we discussed the fact Madeline supposedly sold Parker Goldman’s fishy fountain of youth to one of his competitors, and Shep let me know that not only was he already apprised of that, but he spoke with Eternally Young Cosmetics, the company that bought the formula, and there was no trace of who exactly gave it to them. It was all done in a clandestine manner to protect the guilty serum thief.
Figures.
But right now, it’s onward and forward. It’s all investigative systems go for the suspect we’re about to shake down—Lucas Lane. It turns out, Lucas works for his father’s investment strategy company as a consultant, and Shep had the wherewithal to set up an appointment with him.
Since Nora, aka Detective Grimsley, Shep’s ex, was tasked with doing Lucas’ official interrogation, I convinced Shep that we go in as a couple under the pretense of wanting to find someplace snazzy on Wall Street to park my shiny, new, albeit fictional, inheritance.
“Who knew this bejeweled bangle would come in handy?” I wiggle the diamonds dripping from my wrist.
“Not me.” He gives a wistful tick of the head. “Look, Bowie. He’s probably going to recognize me. I’ll have to be honest with
