A Purr-fect Storm

by Addison Moore

  “I’m having seconds,” Shep says between bites. “Most likely thirds.”

  “It’s close,” I tell her. “The mascarpone needs a touch more sweetness. And come to think of it, I think Nana snuck in a little vanilla extract in there somewhere.”

  Stephanie makes a face. “She always snuck a little vanilla extract in there somewhere. She kept a bottle in her purse for a quick nip when things were getting a little hectic around her.”

  “Sounds like a smart woman.” Shep dives his fork back into his dessert and hacks off another generous bite for himself.

  “Oh, she was.” I take another bite myself. “Speaking of smart women.” I hitch my head to the door as I look to my feisty sis. “Don’t you have a book to read or a website to pin your interests on all night long? It’s time to scram.”

  “It’s not time to scram.” She manages to look genuinely offended by the idea. “We were just getting to the nitty-gritty of a very important conversation.” She swipes Pixie from my lap. “What do you think, kid? Is your mama a big fat ball of bad juju?” She holds Pixie’s face to her ear and nods. “I thought so. She says she’s scared spitless you’re going to accidentally poison her one day.”

  “Then you feed her.” I shrug. “Change her litter box once in a while, too. And while you’re getting domestic, feel free to run the vacuum and mop the kitchen once in a blue moon.” I turn to Shep. “Two weeks ago she spilled soda on the kitchen floor, and I’m still waiting for her to clean up the sticky mess. Word to the wise: avoid the big gray splotch in front of the fridge.”

  Stephanie shakes her head. “Feel free to step on it, Shep. Come to find out, once it goes gray, it’s no longer sticky. So what’s new with the case? You never did tell me what that Wendy chick said. Did she confess to being the killer?”

  “No.” I scowl over at her. “And I would have gladly given you a synopsis on the way home if you and Tilly weren’t plotting on kidnapping Regina.”

  Shep shakes his head. “No way. Don’t do it. She’ll press charges. You don’t want to open that can of worms.”

  Stephanie clucks her tongue. “Kidnapping is a game we girls like to play. We only kidnap girls we like. It’s an initiation into the girl gang Tilly, Opal, and I are starting. It’s highly exclusive. Some people aren’t invited.” She takes Pixie’s paw and points my way.

  “Funny,” I grunt as I polish off my tiramisu and put down my plate.

  Shep pulls back to get a better look at me. “Why aren’t you invited?”

  “Because sane people are rarely welcome in girl gangs,” I’m quick to tell him before reverting my attention back to my spicy sis. “And Opal? Really?”

  “Oh yeah.” She nods. “Once we explained that an early morning breakfast was involved, and a little humiliation on Regina’s part—you know, catching her off guard at four in the morning and all—she said she wanted in.”

  Shep lifts a brow. “So when’s the takedown?”

  “Yeah, Lola”—a sarcastic smile smears across my face—“when is Regina Valentine going to pluck that gun from under her pillow and shoot you in the chest?”

  Stephanie grimaces at the thought. “Eh. I doubt she’s that good a shot from out of a dead sleep. Tomorrow is the big day. We thought it was best we didn’t waste any time before any of us get cold feet. She’s one scary chick.”

  “Speaking of scary chicks”—Shep puts down his plate and glides an arm around my waist—“what happened with Wendy?”

  “Wendy’s parents own the skating pond out on the edge of town. The place is a real death trap. You should be glad I went after this suspect on my own. Come to find out, ice is really slippery when you strap a pair of razor blades to your feet. I really took one for the team.”

  Stephanie nods. “She almost reshaped that winning smile. And bad news, she’s not exactly headed to Nationals on the ice skating circuit.”

  Shep takes a moment to frown over at me. “I can skate. I should have taken this suspect. But not because I can hold my own on the ice—because I’m the lead on this case, Bowie. This is not your investigation. It’s dangerous. Frisk was shot in cold blood.”

  “In the cold snow,” Stephanie adds, and I take a moment to glare at her. “What? You think I’m leaving now? In the middle of your boyfriend reprimanding you? I never left the room when Dad tried to verbally knock some sense into you, and I’m not leaving now. A show’s a show no matter who the starring man is.” She nods to Shep. “As you were.”

  Shep blows out a breath. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Bowie. But I’m trying to tell you what to do. What did Wendy say?”

  “She said Mal was brown-nosing to get the announcer gig and was pretty ticked off things didn’t go her way. And then, she mentioned that Simone was obsessed with Frisk. She wanted him badly, and he wasn’t up for taking a spin on the Leave ’em Moaning Express. Oh, and she mentioned she saw them having a nasty argument, and I saw that myself. But unfortunately, she didn’t say a stitch about blackmail.”

  Shep glances to the corner of the room, deep in thought.

  “Makes sense.” He sighs. “If Mal was really upset about not getting the position, she could have been the one trying to blackmail him. We did find those mermaid scales that fell off her top, right next to his body.”

  I tap him on the chest. “She could be the killer. I’d better track her down and shake the truth out of her.”

  “Easy, that’s my job, Kitten.”

  Stephanie coos from the peanut gallery, “I just love it when you call her Kitten. Can I have a sexy nickname, too?”

  Shep tilts his head a moment. “Hot Lips.”

  I cluck my tongue. “You can’t call another woman Hot Lips. It’s against the rules.”

  Shep glances back her way. “She’s Hot Lips. I’ve seen her kiss a half dozen guys. Those lips don’t quit.”

  Stephanie whoops and hollers. “Ha-ha! I knew it. You might be sweet as a kitten, sis, but I hold the kissing superpowers around here.”

  “Speaking of superpowers”—I sit up a notch—“while I was doing my Bambi routine on the ice today, I had a vision.”

  “What did you see?” Shep leans in to get a better look at me.

  “It was dark and snowy out. I saw Simone having it out with someone, but I couldn’t tell who. And she said the words, ‘You don’t get to threaten me. Frisk might be dead because of me, but that doesn’t give you the right to spew whatever you want about the two of us. You’re dead to me, just like Frisk. And if you don’t watch your back, you’ll be next. I’ll arrange for that myself.’” I toss my hands up. “And that’s all she wrote. Do you think that has something to do with the fact Frisk was clutching Simone’s scarf when he was shot? Maybe she was right there administrating the bullet?”

  “Could be.” Shep’s chest expands with the thought.

  Stephanie stands and takes the dishes from the coffee table. “I guess I know where we’re headed next.”

  “I’m headed,” I correct. “I’m starting my own girl gang and you’re not invited.”

  She shoots me a look. “You’re lucky I need to get to bed early. I’ve got a kidnapping to tend to. See you later, Stud Muffin.” She winks over at Shep.

  “Be careful with that kidnapping, Hot Lips,” he tells her. “You’ve got a feisty one on your hands. I’d wear a Kevlar vest for the occasion if I were you.”

  Stephanie finally shows herself to the door, and I get right to the serious business of cuddling with my stud muffin.

  “It’s not fair my sister gets to be both Hot Lips and Lola. That’s two cute nicknames too many. How about tossing an extra one my way?”

  Shep’s lips expand as those pale blue eyes of his shine like stars. “You’ve already got another one. I’ve just been keeping it to myself.”

  “Oh yeah.” I perk up at the thought. “What’s that?”

  “Smoke Show.”

  “Ooh.” I wiggle my way onto his chest. “Me likey.”

  “You know what
me likey? Your lips on mine.” He pulls back a notch. “But before we get to the point of no return, do me a favor—don’t jump on Simone LaBelle just yet. You do realize I’ve got a job to do. And it has less to do with solving the case and more to do with keeping you from taking a bullet at this point. Frisk was my friend. Let me handle this one, Bowie.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I land my lips to his before he can contest the idea once again.

  Hey, at least I’m honest.

  Shep and I put on one heck of a smoke show for the remainder of the night.

  It turns out, we’ve both got pretty hot lips, too.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, and into the afternoon, Stephanie, Regina, Tilly, and Opal are no-shows at the café.

  Thea, Flo, and I had to run the place on our own, save for the cooks in the kitchen. I’m not an expert on these so-called friendly kidnappings, but my guess is things didn’t exactly go as planned.

  If they don’t turn up by tonight, I'm pretty sure Regina managed to tie the three of them up in her basement. Clearly, they had no idea who they were messing with. A Kevlar vest has nothing on Regina Valentine.

  If push comes to shove, I’ve already decided to send Mud out to track them down. Regina seems to tolerate him enough, and Mud has the uncanny knack to be able to sniff my sister out of a crowd. He’d make a good stalker if she didn’t already like him. He’d make an even better boyfriend if she wasn’t so hard to keep down.

  What can I say? Stephanie has issues.

  The crowd finally lessens, and the café slows to a crawl. I let Thea and Flo duke it out for all the big tippers while I start thinking about which china to pull out for Stitch Witchery later this week.

  I’m working on another cross-stitch project, this time of a cat swiping at a mouse with the word meow written in large, clear letters across the top. It’s another coded message for Uncle Vinnie, and just thinking of my sweet uncle brings a somber smile to my face.

  There aren’t a lot of parts from my old life that I miss, but him, my brother, and my mother, I really miss those guys something fierce.

  Speaking of Stitch Witchery, I’m toying with the thought of inviting Lottie, Meg, and Carlotta to the infamous stitch and witch. I know Carlotta in particular would be interested in what we’re lacing those teacups with.

  But before I get a chance to reach for my phone, in walks Domenico Canelli like the big bad Italian dream he’s panning out to be—emphasis on bad.

  He’s wearing a dark wool coat, which matches that dark look in his hazel eyes. His dark hair looks red at the tips, and there’s a knowing smile flirting on his lips. He’s handsome in a bad boy way and smells as if he just crawled out of a bottle of cologne.

  “Stella baby.”

  “Would you shush?” I spit the words out a touch too aggressively. “What do you want?”

  He looks momentarily defeated as he takes a seat on a stool. “My red sauce—it’s not knocking my socks off.”

  “Have you tried threatening it? That seems to be your MO to get things to move in the direction you want.”

  “You’re saucy, you know that?” He wags a finger at me. “That’s why I like you. And your sister is even saucier. That’s why I like—”

  “Yeah, I know what you like about her.” I dish him out a slice of my fresh from the oven lasagna with a golden brown, bubbly layer of mozzarella and Parmigiano-Reggiano over the top that’s so thick, it makes you moan just looking at it. “Eat your heart out,” I say, sliding it his way. “Maybe your taste buds will tell you what’s in the recipe.”

  “Mmm.” He closes his eyes before he even jabs his fork in, and I watch attentively as he takes that luscious first bite. “Damn, woman.” He moans ten times as hard. “You don’t know what your food does to me.”

  “Apparently, it only increases your insanity. What’s cookin’? I know you didn’t come all the way down here for a bite of my lasagna.”

  “Actually, believe it or not, I did. It’s lunchtime, and I wanted the best.” He flashes a greasy grin my way. “You’ll never believe who I spoke with this morning. Your Uncle Vinnie says hello.”

  A breath hitches in my throat as I struggle to stay in my skin.

  “You talked to my Uncle Vinnie?” I hiss the words out in a panic. “Are you insane? That man worries for me. He has connections, and he knows how to use them. On second thought, keep calling Uncle Vinnie. I’m anxious to see how this plays out for you.”

  “Rein it in. Uncle Vinnie was cool on the phone. I let him know I was keeping an eye on you for him.”

  My mouth falls open. “You shook him down for money, didn’t you?”

  “What do I need money for?” He winks my way. “Look, I’m going to sit here and plow my way through this. I just wanted to give you the message, Uncle Vinnie is good. He says Lorenzo misses you. He might pop in for a visit.”

  “Lorenzo can’t visit me.” I’m appalled at the thought of my brother waltzing through the door next. “Do you not understand what is happening here?” I come around the counter and lean in hard. “I’m on the run, you nincompoop. If I get hauled away by the feds or killed by the Morettis, there won’t be any more lasagna runs in your future.”

  “What about Lola?” His brows furrow as if he were genuinely concerned.

  “She doesn’t have the recipe down. You’d be better off with that ex-con you’ve got cooking your food up at The Hideaway. If you want the good stuff, you’ll have to leave me in my glass bubble.”

  No sooner do I get the words out than that warm, fuzzy feeling takes over. The floor feels as if it’s giving way beneath my feet, and a scene opens up in my mind. I’m standing in the Manor Café. My hair is mussed, and I’ve got sauce stains on my blouse—usually a good indicator of a healthy lunch rush—when an all too familiar face pops up, my ex, Johnny Rizzo.

  “Hello, Stella. Long time no see.”

  The sound of my own scream wakes me from my frozen stupor, and I stagger backward a notch.

  Flo bumps her hip with mine on her way to the kitchen.

  “Take a break, will you?” she snips. “I don’t need you coming down with the flu, too.”

  So that’s their cover.

  Dom heads my way and takes a moment to inspect me.

  “That faraway look in your eye…” He leans in another notch. “It’s like you didn’t even hear me when I was talking to you. I recognize that look. You’ve got the shakes, don’t you?”

  I suck in a lungful of his trying-too-hard cologne so hard and fast I’ll be tasting that spiced scent in my sleep.

  Without hesitation, I run over and grab my purse and hustle my way out the door and all the way back to my cabin.

  I’m not a good liar. I’m even lousier at hiding a body. And seeing my options were limited between killing him and making a run for it, I chose the path of least resistance.

  Only I’m pretty sure it was the path of most resistance.

  The entire world might be better off if we were down one Canelli and one Lazzari.

  I try to take my mind off of things by holding Pixie and doing my best to track down Simone LaBelle—for Shep, of course.

  And sure as heck, I discover exactly where she’ll be in just a few hours.

  I double dog dare Simone to keep me moaning for answers.

  Chapter 10

  It turns out, it’s hard keeping a good wrestler down.

  Simone LaBelle is hanging out with her old pal Meg down at a place called Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club.

  The sleazy aforementioned booty grinder is located in downtown Leeds, and just driving through the dicey city I get the feeling this is no place you want to be caught alone after dark. And just my luck, it’s black as pitch out.

  A couple of bruisers offer me valet parking out front, and I take it without thinking about the fact I may never see Wanda again.

  What can I say? Easy come, easy go. We’ve made some real memories. I’m really going to miss that hunk of metal.


  Inside, the music is loud and funky, the walls, the carpeting, the booths, the broads, and the lights up above all glow an eerie shade of red. There’s a long stage that jets out in the middle of the room with a bunch of girls giggling and jiggling up there while doing their best to sweep up the green raining over them like confetti.

  I sigh as I take in the sight. Deep down, I’ve always suspected I should have been a dancer. Instead, I chose donuts and an ex who turned out to be a nut-burger.

  A group of women break out into cackles near the bar, and a tiny growl emits from me once I spot the motley crew.

  “Knock it back! Knock it back!” Opal, Stephanie, Tilly, and Carlotta shout the cheery chant as Regina Valentine downs a shot glass of something brown and belts out a roar right afterwards.

  “What are you doing here?” I spit the words out as soon as I come upon them.

  Stephanie takes a moment to scowl at me. “Here comes the fun police.”

  Carlotta huffs, “You got one, too, huh?” She turns, and I spot Lottie next to her. “Turns out, you’re a dime a dozen, Lot Lot. Let’s hope that kid you’re cookin’ takes after me.”

  “Hey, Lottie.” I head her way, choosing to bypass the whooping and hollering Tilly and Opal are partaking in as they offer Regina a congratulatory pat on the back. I’m guessing she’s been fully inaugurated into their ridiculous girl gang.

  I won’t lie. I don’t like the idea of them having fun without me. Especially not since they’ve replaced me with Regina. Sure, Regina and I are getting along better now, but that doesn’t change my feelings on the subject.

  “Bowie.” Lottie lifts a fruity drink my way. “I’m buying. You up for a virgin strawberry daiquiri?”

  “Considering I’m driving, I’ll take you up on it.”

  She motions to the bartender, and I take a seat next to her. Lottie looks adorable in a denim dress that accentuates her cute baby belly. She’s about as round as I’d think she’s able to get without toppling over, and yet her hair is perfectly curled and she looks incredibly put together. If that was me, I’d be in bed shoveling a casserole pan’s worth of lasagna into my pie hole. Not that I haven’t done that lately. What can I say? I like to practice.