by Liliana Hart
“You’re right,” he agreed. “Not inviting them at all would be bad form. Will you still marry me?”
“Of course,” she said, squeezing his hand. He winced, but she ignored it so he could keep pretending he was fine. “I love you. We can do this.”
“Can we order now?” Hank asked. “You know it’s just a matter of time before Coil tracks us down.”
“Speak of the Devil,” Coil said, pulling up a chair and straddling it at the end of their booth. “I thought I heard my ears burning.”
“How’d you find us?” Agatha asked, narrowing her eyes.
He tapped the star pinned to his shirt. “Good investigative work. I know you and Hank would never miss a meal. And your Jeep was parked out front, so it wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.”
“Any new information?” Hank asked.
“Hey now,” Agatha said. “What happened to no shop talk during lunch?”
“You’re right,” Hank said. “Sorry, Coil.”
“I get it,” he said, coming off his chair and sliding it back under the table he’d taken it from. “Shelly won’t let me talk about work at the table either. Ahh, married life. Y’all give me a call when you’re done scarfing down tacos.”
Coil was gone as quick as he’d appeared, and the waitress looked like she’d waited long enough. “Y’all ready or not?” she asked.
“We’ll each have the number six with everything,” Hank said.
“Aww, you remembered,” Agatha said, squeezing his hand again.
Hank winced and pulled his hand back into his lap.
“I’m not going to say a word, tough guy,” she said.
“I’ll get it checked out,” he said just as the waitress brought back two giant platters. “But maybe lunch will make it feel better.”
Hank and Agatha left the Jeep parked in front of the Taco and Waffle and hurried across the street to meet Coil at the sheriff’s office.
“Y’all finally done eating?” Coil asked. “Must be nice to take regular lunch breaks.”
“Hey, I’m retired,” Hank said. “A man my age can’t miss meals.”
“Just don’t forget you have a tuxedo to fit into in a couple of months,” Coil said.
“I’m still hitting the gym,” Hank said, rubbing his flat stomach.
“We’ve still got Martha in lockup,” Coil said, cutting to the chase. “We can keep her another forty-eight hours, but then we’ve got to spring her. I’ve already gotten a phone call from some hotshot attorney in LA who’s coming down here to make my life miserable, so we don’t have any more chances to talk with her until counsel is present. While y’all were shoveling food in your faces, I went back to the resort and watched the lobby security footage. You were right about Gaston. He arrived about the same time as you guys found Rowdy’s body, so he’s in the clear for the murder. But that still doesn’t mean he and Martha weren’t in on it together.”
“They were hooking up,” Hank said.
Agatha gasped. “I knew it! Her poor family. They’re always showing pictures of her twins and her husband, who’s just a normal guy. He’s an accountant or something. And she tries to make it seem like they just live a normal life like everybody else.”
“I want to check out Ronaldo Milan,” Hank said. “Gaston mentioned he and Rowdy had a few run-ins during the season. Things got physical and the producers threatened to kick Rowdy off the show.”
“I remember that,” Agatha said. “It was pretty intense. No one likes Ronaldo anyway. He was a real jerk to all the contestants.”
“Aggie and I will head over to the resort and see if we can pin him down for a few questions,” Hank said.
“I’m a step ahead of you,” Coil said. “I’ve already talked to the hotel manager and gotten a list of people with the show who’ve already checked in. And guess what? Your pal Ronaldo has been hunkered down all week at the resort.”
“Good to know,” Hank said.
“And maybe try not to knock this one out,” Coil said.
“Right,” Hank said, rubbing his sore hand. “Any news from the lab?”
“I was getting to that. You want the bad news or the bad news first?” Coil asked.
“That sounds promising,” Agatha said. “I guess we’ll take the bad.”
“The lab says the wounds on the back of Rowdy’s head are not a match for the French rolling pin. Rowdy’s wounds have a jagged edge, and the French rolling pin is completely smooth.”
“So the rolling pin isn’t the murder weapon?” Agatha asked.
“Nope,” Coil said.
“So what’s the bad news?” Hank asked.
“We still have a rolling pin with someone’s blood and Martha’s fingerprints on it. And we don’t have a victim. As soon as her attorney gets here she’s going to be back out on the street. She might be guilty of having an affair, but that doesn’t make her guilty of murder.”
Chapter Nine
The resort had done a good job of keeping the news vans and curious onlookers off the property. When Agatha and Hank arrived back at the security gate, the guard made sure to check out Hank’s badge and call it in to see if it was legitimate before he opened the gate for them to enter.
Hank parked his car under the covered portico at the front of the hotel and put his on-duty sign in the window.
“I’ve got to admit I enjoy the perks that go along with law enforcement,” Agatha said.
“You mean the horrible hours and lousy pay, or that you can park anywhere you want?” Hank asked.
“Just the parking part,” she said. “And the discount at the donut shop. They’ve started giving me that since you deputized me when you were sheriff.”
Hank snorted out a laugh. The lobby was cool and crowded, and there was an undercurrent of gleeful anticipation flowing through the room. It was as if all the resort guests were hanging around in the lobby to see who got arrested next.
“There’s Tabitha,” Hank said. “And she does not look happy to see us.”
“Get out of here right now,” she said in a menacing growl, marching up to them with the clipboard she habitually carried around. “You people are ruining everything. We have a reputation to uphold.”
“We’re so sorry that pesky murder got in the way of your reputation,” Agatha said hotly. “A man has died. And we’ll keep coming back until we find out who did it.”
“I’m sorry a man is dead, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still have a job to do. I’m the events coordinator, and now that y’all have the Sam Houston Room shut down for your crime scene, the TV people have taken over the other rooms and I’m having to cancel events at the last minute for other parties. Do you know how many times I’ve been yelled at today and what names I’ve been called?” Her voice kept going up in octave the longer she talked.
“Gee, that must be terrible to be yelled at for doing your job,” Agatha said dryly, but the irony went right over the top of Tabitha’s head.
Tabitha straightened her shoulders and her chin perked up haughtily. “Maybe your event is the next one on the chopping block. I don’t ever want to see you people again.” She turned and moved to walk away.
“You don’t want to walk away just yet,” Hank said. “Though I enjoyed the theatrics. You don’t want to threaten us right now because that’s not going to end well for you. So my suggestion is you show us where we can find Ronaldo Milan. And if you don’t feel you’re professional enough to work with us on our wedding then we’ll speak to the hotel manager and make sure he can find someone who will.”
Tabitha’s face went red, and Agatha was sure she was about to stamp her foot like a toddler.
“Fine,” she said. “Follow me.”
Agatha was having déjà vu. She was leading them back to the Jim Bowie Room, where everything had started just twenty-four hours ago. This was not how she’d imagined her wedding planning would be going.
“We appreciate your cooperation,” Hank told Tabitha.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she said, and swiped her card to open the room for them.
They were met with a scream that could’ve curdled milk and a very angry man charged toward them.
“What do you people want now?” he screamed, tearing at his hair. “Time is money, and you’re wasting all of it. Go away! Shoo!”
Hank planted his feet and withdrew his badge so the man could clearly see it.
“I don’t care who you are,” he spat. “Do you think your tin badge scares me? The people backing this show are the ones who scare me. Not you. Now get off my set.”
“Sure,” Hank said. “Just as soon as we get what we came for. What’s your name?”
“Kristoff,” he said. “Security! Get these yahoos out of here.”
“You don’t want to do that,” Hank said, showing his badge to the security detail coming out of the shadows. “I’m sure Kristoff would prefer to get back to work instead of having everyone in this room hauled down to the station and questioned. And yes,” Hank said, holding up a hand before Kristoff could interrupt, “I can do it. So take a step back. What’s your full name?”
“Just Kristoff,” he said. “Like Cher. I’m the director.”
“Good for you,” Hank said. “Where’s Ronaldo Milan?”
“Is he a suspect?”
“Just point us in the right direction,” Hank said.
“He’s in the room next door. We have it set up as a lounge for the stars. He’s in a tanning session.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Hank said.
Agatha was already heading toward the connecting door between the rooms when Hank caught up to her.
“These Hollywood people are weird,” Agatha whispered. “They can’t get out of Bell County soon enough.”
“No kidding,” Hank agreed.
When they opened the door to the connecting room it was like stepping into another world. It had been made to look like a spa retreat with loungers and roving waiters. Even a huge hot tub had been brought in. There were chairs and mirrors for hair and makeup, and in the corner were a couple of tanning beds and what looked like a shower for spray tans.
“Good grief,” Agatha said.
A tiny sprite of a woman dressed in all black with black lipstick hurried up to them, shooing them from the room, but Hank held up his badge again.
“Ronaldo Milan,” he said.
“He’s in the tanning bed,” she said. “But you’re not permitted in here. You’ll have to wait until he’s finished.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Hank said.
Agatha went over to the tanning bed and looked at all the buttons before deciding it was best to just unplug the whole thing.
“What are you doing?” Ronaldo screeched, pushing open the top of the bed and coming to his feet. He reminded her of a banty rooster.
Ronaldo waved his hand as if to swish her away. “You’re going to make me uneven. Go away, pale woman. I am Ronaldo.”
“Yes, I know,” Agatha said. He went to plug in the machine again, but she stood with her foot on the cord.
“You are very irritating,” Ronaldo said. “I do not give autographs. I am Ronaldo.”
“At least he knows his name,” Hank said. “Ronaldo, we just need to ask you a few questions.” Hank held up his badge. “I’m sure handcuffs would really mess up your tan line, so why don’t you take a break and talk to us.”
The man was barely wearing any clothes. Just a tiny thong to minimize his tan lines. “But maybe you could put on a robe first,” Agatha said.
“I am magnificent, no?” he asked, spreading his arms so every muscle in his body could be seen.
“Uh-huh,” Agatha said. “About that robe.”
“I am comfortable in my skin,” Ronaldo said. “Why aren’t you, pale one?”
“I’m not pale,” Agatha said.
“You are practically clear,” he said, waving her away.
“Hey, if you want to get questioned about a murder half naked, who are we to stop you?” Hank asked, taking his arm and leading him to a seating area away from prying ears.
If Liza Minnelli and Marc Anthony had a baby, he would’ve looked like Ronaldo Milan. He was acting just like he did on the show, and she was oddly relieved to see at least he was being himself.
But it was the bandage wrapped around his hand that drew her interest. And the fact that seeing Ronaldo in a skimpy thong standing next to Hank was comical at best. If he wouldn’t have killed her, she would’ve taken a picture.
“Are you taking me to the…” Ronaldo snapped his fingers and said, “What do Americans call it? The pokey?”
“Not yet,” Hank said. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“Fine,” Ronaldo said primly, taking a seat on the loveseat and crossing his legs. “Grill me. I can take it.”
“I doubt that,” Hank said. “Did you kill Rowdy Mustang?”
Ronaldo’s mouth dropped open and he got back to his feet, a drama queen in action. “Me?” And then he started speaking rapidly in his native tongue. “I killed no one.”
“Millions of people would say that the blood between you and Rowdy was bad. I’d even go so far as to say you hated each other. You certainly knew how to get under his skin. And it looked like you did it on purpose.”
Ronaldo flicked his hand. “Theatrics,” he said. “And he was…how do you say…white trash. A red neck. He knew nothing about the fine art of cuisine.”
“You’re not helping your case as far as murdering him,” Agatha said. “You hated him, you tried to sabotage his career, and I don’t see any remorse that he’s dead.”
“Everyone dies,” he said flippantly. “Where I come from, food is what matters. If you fight, you fight. If you make love, you make love. But food…” He kissed his fingers dramatically. “Food is what keeps us civilized.
“Where exactly are you from?” Hank asked.
“Mauritius,” he said. “We are a small island, but we’re known for our cuisine.”
“I’m going to assume murder is illegal too,” Agatha said.
“I tell you,” he said. “I not kill anyone. I am innocent.”
“You know, it’s funny,” Hank said. “I think it’s odd you chose to hide Rowdy’s rolling pin from him, and we find a rolling pin at the crime scene. There’s no such thing a coincidence in a murder investigation. Is a rolling pin your weapon of choice? What happened to your hand? Did someone fight back?”
“Weapon?” he asked. “I have no weapons. I am a lover. I am passionate. I am Ronaldo.”
“Yeah, we know your name,” Agatha said.
“I am a victim,” he said, holding up his injured hand. “It was the rolling pin that attacked me. I am innocent.”
“A rolling pin attacked you?” she asked.
“I show you.” He peeled back the bandage to show a jagged line of stitches in between his thumb and index finger.
“Ouch,” Agatha said. “Did that happen when you fought with Rowdy?”
“I told you,” he said. “We didn’t fight. We don’t speak. We don’t breathe the same air. He is garbage. I was chopping and rolling and being magnificent when my knife slipped. Que sera, sera.”
“And did you bleed on the rolling pin?” she asked, giving Hank a knowing look. That was one mystery solved at least.
“Yes,” he said. “Like stuck pig.”
“What did you do with the rolling pin?” Hank asked.
“It’s all a blur,” he said, putting the bandage back on his hand. “I screamed, I shouted, there was blood everywhere. It was horrible. And there’s all the equipment and cords, and I think I tripped. I thought I was going to die. The pain was horrific.”
“Hmm,” Agatha said. “And the rolling pin?”
“I shoved it at Martha and ran like a chicken with my head cut off. I am very fast. No one could catch me. I eventually passed out.”
“Who stitched your hand?” Hank said.
“When I woke up all these sexy men were leaning over me
and someone was sewing up my hand. They gave me good drugs, so I didn’t feel a thing.”
“Ronaldo,” Hank said, “We’d like to eliminate you as a suspect in Rowdy’s murder. Would you be willing to give us a blood sample?”
“If it will clear the good name of Ronaldo, of course,” he said.
“A medical tech will be by soon to take the sample,” Hank said. “Everything should be fine as long as you cooperate.”
“Sure, sure,” he said. “Now I must return my body to the sun.”
Agatha and Hank made their way back through the throng of camera people and assistants until they were back in the hallway.
“Coil texted,” Hank said. “Martha has been released and is on her way back here. Let’s get out of here so we’re not the first thing she sees on arrival.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Agatha said. “And maybe we could stop somewhere to eat on the way home.”
Chapter Ten
Thursday
The only thing Hank knew the next morning was it was way too early for his phone to be ringing. He hadn’t gone to bed until late because he’d been going over all the reports that had slowly been trickling in.
His phone rang again from the nightstand, and he reached out a hand, searching for it, and then he heard the thunk when it hit the floor. He growled and reached down to pick it up.
“What?” he barked.
“Hey, man, it’s Gaston.”
“Do you know what time it is?” Hank asked.
“It’s seven, sleepyhead. Back at home we’d already be coming in with the fresh catch of the day.”
“I’m feeling pretty okay about throwing you in jail right now.”
Gaston snickered. “Hey, man. I thought you wanted news. I can hang up and go about my business.”
“Okay, okay,” Hanks said, sitting up. He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Shoot.”
“Ol’ Martha came back last night, and boy did she have a lot to say about you and Skinny.”
