But there will be nothing funny if I find out either Zeke or Michaela murdered Julian.
And that makes me wonder if I should pursue this investigation further at all.
Chapter 13
The afternoon drones on and I’ve tried three different times to call McKenna, but she’s not answering—which isn’t like her. Although it’s not necessarily her I want to speak with.
She’s obviously up to her eyeballs with something—most likely her wedding. Something I should be up to my eyeballs in, too. But at the moment I’m sitting in the Cottage Café with Georgie, Juni, Sherlock, and Fish, trying my hardest to figure out how I can speak with Michaela.
Georgie slaps her hand on the table. “She’s not at Minty’s, you already called.”
Juni nods while snapping up a fistful of blondie bars. “Ten bucks says she’s on a date with the hottie gardener. You said yourself he was trying to score big with her.”
Fish mewls. Archie did seem rather determined when he left. And you said he was interested in her. Archie is handsome. Something tells me a man like that gets what he wants.
Sherlock barks. He wanted Macy for about five minutes.
Fish snorts. More like Macy wanted him for five minutes. Macy wears the pants and the panties in her relationships. She’s told me so herself.
I make a face. “That’s true. Maybe she did go out with him. I should speak to Zeke instead.”
Georgie and Juni exchange a look. Their silence is not only rare, it’s deafening.
Georgie pulls her phone off the table, and by the looks of it, she’s texting someone under the table. Her lips move as if she were mouthing each word as she types them out before she bucks and winks over at Juni.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and both Georgie and Juni jump in their seats and clap while giving one another knowing looks.
Sherlock howls. I know that look on Georgie Conner’s face. She’s up to no good.
Fish extends her front paws as she indulges in a slow stretch. A mewl streams from her tiny pink lips. I know that look on Juni’s face. Something fun is about to take place. Last week she had that same gleam in her eye before she took me to Cost Club. She laid me on a shiny new pet pillow and wheeled me around that place while she ate free samples. She said men love hot women with small pets. It shows their nurturing side for all to see. Sure enough, she spoke with three hairy hooligans.
My lips purse. I happen to know the three men Juni spoke with that day were as follows: the checkout clerk, the manager who tracked down Juni in the parking lot after she left her wallet on the counter—who also commended her for leaving an entire big box store with nothing more than a box of saltine crackers—and the sheriff’s deputy who pulled her over for speeding—whom she tried to bribe with a box of saltines. Apparently, it worked. Fish told me the entire story as I threw away the missing posters I had just printed up for her. I had zero clue Juni had taken her anywhere. Juni swore she’d never engage in cat-napping again if I promised to go back to Cost Club and buy that cat bed for her. For Juni, that is. She wants to use it as a pillow. She said it looked comfy. And according to Fish, she’s spot-on.
My phone spins over the table. “It’s a text from McKenna.” I perk up as I pick it up and read it out loud. “Sorry you missed Michaela at Minty’s. If you still want to chat about dresses with her, why don’t you meet us for dinner and drinks tonight? In fact, I’m desperate to have you join us. Michaela can be a little much. I’ll need you there for levity.” I gasp with delight. “How do you like that? It’s as if Michaela is falling right into my hot little hands.” I text right back and let her know it would be my pleasure.
Less than ten seconds later, my phone pings again.
“Perfect,” I read. “Meet us at the Salty Wench out in Edison at seven-thirty.” I grimace at the thought. “The Salty Wench?” I look up at Georgie and Juni as they giggle like schoolgirls. “It does sound funny.”
Fish makes a noise that sounds as if she’s chortling. I highly doubt that’s the reason they’re laughing.
I glide my hand over her back and nod.
I highly doubt it, too.
Georgie tosses Sherlock a strip of bacon from her pocket.
Here’s hoping Michaela will throw me a morsel in just a few hours—one that leads straight to Julian Fletcher’s killer.
Chapter 14
The Salty Wench sits directly in the heart of this salty town, Edison, in a tall, industrial building that holds the scent of rancid fryer oil and cheap booze.
Inside, it’s a spacious environment with loud rock music blaring from the speakers. It’s a bit bright, considering the fact it pretty much emulates a club scene with dinner tables to the left and a dance floor to the right. There are exposed ventilation tubes high up on the twenty-foot ceilings, the floors are made of glossy concrete, and the furniture looks as if it was plucked off of a pirate’s ship with its ship’s wheel theme on the tables and chairs.
And then there are the wenches. Throngs of waitresses are scantily dressed in barely-there white frilly tops with black corsets cinched across their waists. Their skirts are made of tattered purple fabric and there are some men dressed as pirates bussing the tables as well. Otherwise, the place is rife with twenty-somethings, both women and men, laughing like hyenas, so much so, it makes me wonder if they’re pumping laughing gas through the A/C. Speaking of air-conditioning, it’s just as icy inside as it is out.
Georgie juts her head back and forth like a chicken on the prowl.
“Boy, this place is snazzy,” she says, smacking
