Phone Kitten: A Cozy, Romantic, and Highly Humorous Mystery

by Marika Christian

  To the naked eye, it might seem like I was the one being slippery. I’d lied to him about my identity, and my job, and I planned to continue lying to him. To the casual observer, I was the oily one. The casual observer didn’t feel his tongue trying to slide in between my lips.

  “I’m surprised you remembered me. I was so nervous calling you. And it‘s Emily.”

  “How could I ever forget a beauty like you?”

  He was truly puke-inducing.

  Damon took my hand and led me to the bar. I let him order me a beer, because I didn’t know a whole lot about the quality of beers from former Eastern bloc countries.

  We sat at a little table in the back of the bar. The place was dimly lit and might’ve been romantic had my skin not stuck to the table. Someone needed to wipe the place down occasionally.

  “I got you Silva. It’s from Romania.”

  I’m a sangria girl. Any beer I ever had left me with a bad taste in my mouth and a big quiver down my spine. I didn’t think Silva was going to be the exception to the rule. It was dark and I was pretty sure it would be bitter.

  “It’s strong,” he warned.

  I noticed his beer was lighter and a little less frothy than mine. I took a sip. My gut tensed, ready to reject the thick Romanian brew and send it flying across the table and right into Damon’s dry-clean-only pants. It was strong like a lumberjack.

  He laughed. “Maybe too strong?”

  I nodded a little. “So, I take it things are okay with you.”

  He nodded. “Things couldn’t be better. I got a new position at work. I was filling in after everything that happened and they decided to give me more responsibility.”

  Was he happy that his boss died and it had led to personal advancement?

  “I’m now on the fast track. I got a huge raise, lots of new responsibilities.” He gave me a smarmy little smile. “There are a lot of rewards, too.”

  I might as well act dumb and ask. “Jim’s old job?”

  He was a carrion-eating corporate bastard.

  He answered. “Not yet, but soon. I’m making my own way.”

  I moved closer, ran my fingers across his arm and hoped I was flirting correctly. “I’ve been so curious, what was Jim fired for?”

  “Embezzlement. There was a big investigation by corporate security. Everything led to him.”

  I widened my eyes. I really needed him to buy the good-golly-I’m-just-a-silly-girl act I was laying down for him. “But I heard he left his family with nothing. If he embezzled, then why didn’t his family get the money?”

  “I guess he was better than anyone thought. No one’s found the money.”

  “It just seems weird that he didn’t leave anything for his family. I would’ve thought he’d at least pay his mortgage if he got a big bag of cash.” I tried to down more of my Romanian swill.

  “He wasn’t much of a family man. I think Jim was heading for greener pastures when he was killed. He was going on the run. You know he had connections with the mob. I think they killed him.”

  “The mob?” Obviously, Damon had never had lunch with Sonny Damone. It wasn’t that I didn’t think Sonny was capable of pumping two slugs in the back of someone’s skull or throwing them off the Skyway into the bay. I just didn’t think he’d done it to Jim. I took another sip. With every drink, it tasted a little better.

  Damon started to laugh, grabbed a napkin, and started to wipe my upper lip. “You have a little foam.”

  Beer mustache!

  Before I could even contemplate the total humiliation of foam clinging to my upper lip, he kissed me. He kissed me right on the lips, with a tease of tongue just like a snake.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  I’d gone years without a date, let alone a kiss. Considering my massive dry spell, was it really fair that Rick had just seen my lips lock with a second kisser? It could only happen to me.

  Damon looked up at him. “Do I know you?”

  “No, you don’t, but she does.” Rick was red in the face and grinding his teeth. Maybe he was going to punch Damon. Maybe they’d fight over me. That could be cool.

  Wait, no! Definitely not cool! Two good looking men going all fist-a-cuffs over the right to touch my little lips was definitely not good, no matter how romance novel-y it might sound. I really wanted only one of them.

  I stood up and took Rick by the hand. “It’ll just be a minute, Damon. Rick’s a friend of mine. I’ll be right back.”

  I pulled him out of Beethoven’s and down the sidewalk. I tried to explain. “About that…”

  “What, that kiss? You can kiss whoever you want.”

  “I didn’t want to kiss him; he kissed me. I think he’s creepy.”

  “Then you must have a thing for creepy guys.”

  That threw me. “I don’t think you’re creepy.”

  “I’m not talking about me. Today you were at the China Palace. Tony Gardino walked you to your car. “

  “Oh, him. We weren’t formally introduced. He just walked me to my car. I thought that was nice.” Then the larger issue hit me. “How do you know about him?”

  “Emily, I’m a cop. After you came in the other night, everyone knows that you and I… well, they know. Sonny Damone is always under surveillance. Tony Gardino works for him.”

  If he was always under surveillance, he’d be a mild-mannered accountant, not a mob boss.

  “The waiter at China Palace is an undercover cop?” My mind was reeling; he’d been working there for years. “Hey, does he get to keep the tips he makes or does he have to turn them into the department?”

  “The waiter is just a waiter. There were other people and they heard about your little lunch date. That’s how I know.”

  “I think Sonny Damone would know that someone is tailing him. He’s not dumb.”

  “That’s not the point of this conversation. I think I know what you’re up to. You aren’t a cop and Jim Alexander isn’t your case.”

  “Is he yours?”

  He groaned. “Not since you got involved. This is dangerous, Emily. Go to school, talk on the phone, do whatever else it is you do. Just don’t go snooping around. Do that for me, please?”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “I followed you. I was coming by to see you and I saw you leave. You should be careful in those heels. You nearly wiped out twice on First Avenue.”

  I wanted to tell him that I wanted a second chance to make things right between us, but for some reason the words just wouldn’t come to me. Probably because I was still lying. Instead, I just stood there looking at him and then at my shoes. They really were too high for me.

  “I’ll let you get back to your date.”

  “It’s not a date. I don’t like him. I like you.”

  He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  Peyton would have grabbed him, pulled him into an alley and done something so obscene Rick would have followed her around for the rest of his life. I, on the other hand, just watched him walk away with a quivering heart.

  “I was starting to think you left me.”

  I joined Damon back at our table and downed a good part of my beer. "Leave you? I don't think so.” My beer almost came back up.

  "Who was that, an oldboyfriend who can't take the hint?"

  "You know how it goes when things don't work out." I didn't have to tell him I was the one who was going to have problems getting over Rick.

  "I definitely know what you’re talking about. There've been a few girls who couldn't let go of The Kid."

  Oh, he DID NOT refer to himself as The Kid. In rap songs it's one thing, but it's quite another in everyday conversation. Forget that he might be The Embezzler, possibly The Murderer; he should be imprisoned just for dubbing himself The Kid.

  Thank God, I was able to stop myself from physically recoiling. “Well, I can understand why a girl might have a problem letting go of you.” Should I bat my lashes at him?

 
He leaned back with confidence. “I really have to be careful. I don’t want to get involved with someone who’s just interested in me for my money, or my prestige.”

  Prestige? Damon? Okay, yeah, he was good-looking and all, but there was something icky about him. I couldn’t be the only one who picked up on it. Was he really that big of a deal? Then I remembered Jim. He was icky and he was a big damn deal, too. Sometimes I forgot there was a completely different St. Pete from the one I lived in.

  “Doesn’t it feel a little weird with Jim being murdered and all? Do you work in the same office? I’d get creeped out.”

  He shrugged. “You’re forgetting he was fired before he was dead. Besides, we live in St. Petersburg. Somebody’s died in every house in town with all these seniors. Most of them, anyway. I tell you who should feel bad. Brant Jenson, that’s who. I saw the way he was acting at Jim’s funeral. He’s getting ready to swoop in on the Widow Alexander. Not that Jim didn’t have his affairs…”

  I feigned shock. “Jim was cheating on his wife?”

  “I’d hear him in his office whispering. One time I was in the office after work, just doing a little clean up. I heard him talking, and I don’t know, I just decided to listen in, and he was talking dirty to some girl. She sounded pretty hot. They were definitely doing it.”

  He was listening in on my conversation with Jim? I was tempted to reach into his big fat wallet and take out a twenty.

  “He took a long lunch every Wednesday and came back a lot happier than when he left. Somebody was responsible for that, and I know it wasn’t his wife. He and Rachel-Ann didn’t get along at all. Sometimes I could hear him screaming on the phone when they were talking. I know the cops were going to talk to her right after they spoke to people at the office.”

  “So you already talked to the police? What kind of things did they ask you? Did they take you down to the police station?”

  He laughed. “Emily, they only do that if you’re a suspect. I’m not a suspect. They were just looking for information.”

  I was a suspect? Rick hadn’t mentioned that little tidbit on the way home.

  “They asked me questions about who might’ve had a problem with him at the office, what I knew about his personal life, about any ladies who were involved with him. The way they were asking, they made me believe there was more than one. They asked me what I thought of the embezzlement. I told them everyone had an issue with Jim, and I didn’t know anything about the embezzlement until he was canned.”

  “Emily?”

  Not again. This wasn’t happening. I didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

  Dani.

  Her eyes were locked on Damon but she was pretending to talk to me. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

  “I’ve been busy. “

  She still hadn’t looked at me, although she had managed to get a hair toss in.

  “Why don’t you introduce me to your friend?” Her eyes were lit up like a tiger’s.

  “Damon, this is Dani. We work together at the newspaper.” I emphasized my words, hoping she’d have the decency to out me later and not right here at the table.

  She turned to me so fast I could hear her neck snap. “I guess I’ve missed you at work.”

  That’s right, just go along for now, there’ll be time to humiliate me later.

  The hair flip had worked. Damon had lost all interest in me. On a personal level, I was okay with that. I wasn’t interested in Damon, no matter how good he smelled. And while I wasn’t thrilled to see Dani, I wasn't angry or hurt. I guess working a case made me forget the dagger she shoved in my back.

  Working the case. I was beginning to think like a real detective. It tickled me.

  Dani extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Emily, you always seem to meet the best-looking men. How do you do it?” She was eyeing him like a fine piece of prime rib.

  “Funerals. All the grieving makes it easier to get a phone number.”

  “Emily and I met at Jim Alexander’s funeral.” Damon explained.

  Dani pursed her lips. She may have been talking to me, but clearly Damon was the most important person at the table. “Emily, you never told me you knew Jim Alexander.”

  Well, Dani, we had a very special relationship based on my oratory skills and his credit limit.

  I decided to just smile. It wasn’t like she was paying attention to me anyway.

  Damon answered for me. “Apparently they were quite friendly on the phone.”

  That was putting it mildly.

  “Well, Emily’s quite the charmer.”

  “Maybe the three of us could get together for a drink sometime. I’d love to hear about the newspaper business. “

  Dani cast a withering glance my way. Oh yeah, there’s no way my cover was going to survive a meeting with Damon and Dani. “There’s a lot of pressure, deadlines, things like that. Maybe you’ve seen my column. It runs in the Metro section.”

  “A columnist, wow. So tell me, are you assigned a story, or do you have to come up with your own ideas?”

  “A little bit of both. I do a little feature writing and I’m usually assigned something then, but for my column, I’m mostly on my own. Luckily, I get inspiration from all sorts of things.”

  And sometimes she just steals every last word of someone else’s thoughts.

  I had to say something. “I bet you get inspiration from other people’s stories too.”

  That got her attention. “If I meet someone who has something interesting that I think other people would want to hear, I tell it. Some people have something to say, and they just don’t know how to say it in a way that makes it pop for readers. If you ever start writing, you’ll understand.”

  Damon looked at me and then her. He probably thought this little dust-up was all about him and his hot manliness. “We’ll definitely have to get together. The three of us, I mean.”

  That was never going to happen.

  Dani extended her hand. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. You can always call me at the newspaper. Dani Pierce. I’m easy to find. Unlike Emily.” She gave me a little wave. “See you at the office, Em.”

  Damon watched her and her short skirt walk away. I swear she gave her butt an extra bounce just to irritate me.

  Damon looked back at me. “So was it me, or was there a little tension there?”

  “She’s always a little testy. I try to ignore her. It’s not her fault really. She has this condition. If it were me… well, she handles it better than I would.”

  He cut me off. “What? A condition? What kind of condition?”

  “It’s a medical thing. All I really know is she’s in the bathroom every three hours, and believe me on this, you don’t want to go in when she’s there.” I made my sour puss eww face. “They had to have a professional cleaner come in once.”

  “Why?” He took a big gulp of his beer.

  Did he really want me to go into details of what could happen in the ladies room?

  I grimaced and gave him a fake shiver. “It’s volcanic. At work they call her Mt. Dani. I feel bad for her. I think that’s why she’s always grumpy.”

  He looked across the room, and Dani flashed him a winning smile. “So, Emily, I was thinking we could go back to my place. I’ve been in this suit all day. We could sit back and relax, really get to know each other.”

  Was he expecting sex? Damon definitely wasn’t going to get access to my grannies. Still, I didn’t have the information I needed. I was going to have to make the trip, but I was not putting out.

  “I think that sounds nice.”

  He took my hand and led me out of Beethoven’s. I could see Dani’s smile fade when we passed her and he didn’t bother to give her a glance. I knew it wasn’t right to make fun of intestinal peculiarities, but seeing her face gave me a fuzzy feeling inside.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Damon’s apartment was impeccably decorated if a person’s taste ran to modern modular stuff, lots of bl
ack and lots of leather. Personally, I didn’t trust anyone in Florida who had a leather couch. It meant they were too concerned with appearances and didn’t consider skin peelage, which is discourteous to guests. But as long as I didn’t sweat, I was safe.

  “How about a glass of wine?”

  “That sounds nice.” I was looking at the photos he had framed on one of the walls. I think the pictures people display really say a lot about them. My favorite photo at home was one of my mom in Las Vegas making eyes at a faux Elvis. I’m not sure what that says about me.

  Damon’s photos said, “I love me!” There was Damon at the beach, Damon at the mountains, Damon at a bar, Damon at a baseball field, Damon on a boat.

  Damon on a boat?

  A boat sure would be useful for disposing a body in the middle of the bay.

  “You have a boat?”

  “Why, do you like fishing?”

  “Actually I do.”

  Suddenly he was right next to me whispering in my ear. “I don’t have the boat anymore, but I’m getting another one, a bigger one. It will be perfect for midnight cruises. That one was a little small for me.”

  Hmm, got rid of the boat, did he? Was that because he wanted to get rid of evidence? Had he told the police about this boat?

  “I got rid of it a few months ago. You’ll never guess who bought it.”

  “Who?”

  “Brant Jenson. Can you believe it? Jim’s wife used to take cruises on yachts, and now she’s fishing for dinner on that little thing. He even rents the same slip.” He was getting a little too much glee out of Rachel-Ann’s tragedy.

  “Where did you keep it? It doesn't look like anything that would be at the yacht club.”

  “No offense taken, since that's what I'm aiming for. I kept it on Treasure Island, by Red Fish, Blue Fish.”