When we finished up with Christina, it was time for all of us to head home and get ready for Nora’s party. We’d double-checked with Beatrice, and so far, Nora wasn’t on the hook for the still explosion so either the arson investigator had bought her story about not knowing her husband had one or he simply didn’t want to deal with an old lady and her illegal-booze-making habits. I was voting on the latter.
I hadn’t heard from Carter since I’d seen him at the General Store, but I hadn’t figured I would. Between the fire, the explosion, Brock’s suspicious death, and the upcoming run of parties planned, he had his hands full. Gertie had tried to talk him into making a stop by Nora’s, at least to pick up some of Molly’s food, but he’d even held out on that idea.
I took a long shower and pulled on jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes, happy to be back to regular clothes for my outing. Because I hadn’t eaten since we stopped at the bakery that morning, I had a pre-party snack, then fed Merlin and made some notes on the case. I got a text from Ida Belle as I was shutting down my laptop and grabbed my cell phone and gun and headed out.
I could see Ida Belle’s Lord-give-me-strength expression as I walked down the steps and figured I had a good idea what it was about. That was confirmed when I climbed into her SUV and took a look in the back seat at Gertie. She’d gone all out.
Her hair was streaked with pink highlights and spiked up in all directions. Her black tank top had lime green words on it that read I’m with the Queen. Her pants were turquoise and pink spotted, and she informed me gleefully that they glowed in the dark. Around her neck was a purple feather boa with flashing yellow lights. Her feet were clad in clear platforms with a huge bottom…with something moving inside.
“Are there goldfish in your shoes?” I asked.
She nodded. “Not real ones, of course. But they’re in this gel and they flex so it looks like they’re swimming. Aren’t they cool?”
“Not the word I’d choose,” Ida Belle said.
“I’m just glad I don’t cover your medical insurance,” I said. “Those shoes look like a minimum of a sprained ankle night.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Twenty bucks and I’ll put you down for ankle in the betting pool.”
I passed her a twenty and Gertie shook her head.
“Oh ye of little faith,” Gertie said. “It’s a new year. That means another opportunity for a new me. You two could use a makeover, too, you know. Maybe approach this year in a different way than the past.”
I stared at her. “It wasn’t long ago that I left the CIA and DC, moved to Sinful, adopted a cat, quit my job, acquired a boyfriend, and for Christ’s sake, I just wore a sequined dress and a tiara on a parade float. If there is any more change in my life, I might spontaneously combust.”
“Well, Ida Belle could change something,” Gertie said.
“I lowered my cholesterol,” Ida Belle said.
“And got married,” I reminded her. “Where’s Walter, by the way?”
“He and Scooter ended up making some more grocery deliveries,” she said. “He’ll be there in an hour or so.”
“And Jeb?” I asked Gertie.
“He and Wyatt had a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, so they’ll be a little late as well,” she said. “Jeb told me he was going to ask for a B12 shot and some Viagra, so my new year is looking up already. Get it—up?”
“No!” Ida Belle said. “And we don’t want to get it.”
“If you did you might be in a better mood,” Gertie said.
“I am not having this discussion with you,” Ida Belle said.
I couldn’t help grinning. After all, it was New Year’s Eve, and instead of playing some fake role so that I could access and kill a target, I was just plain ole me and headed to a party with the best people I’d ever known to partake in incredible food and likely the most expensive booze collection in Sinful.
I was determined to take a night off and just have fun.
Famous last words.
Even though we were only ten minutes late from the actual starting time, we had to park a block over from Nora’s house. We could hear the music blasting as soon as we climbed out of the SUV.
“I’m surprised no one has called the cops yet about the music,” I said.
“Nora fixed that,” Gertie said.
“Did she pay off the cops?” I joked.
“No,” Gertie said. “She paid off the neighborhood. Those who aren’t coming to the party got gift baskets with Ally’s baked goods and expensive wine so they could have their own parties at home. And she set up child care at one of the parents’ homes for the parents who want to party and don’t have a sitter.”
“Nora has some serious skills,” I said.
“And a serious pocketbook,” Ida Belle said. “But since we’re all benefiting, I think I hear Molly’s dip calling for me.”
We made our way up the sidewalk and headed into the house, not even bothering to knock. No one would have heard or cared and besides, the place was already packed like a fraternity party, complete with a keg in the corner of the living room and beer funnels on the table next to it.
Gertie clutched my arm and asked in a reverent tone, “Is that a stripper pole?”
Sure enough, Nora had installed a clear stripper pole with flashing neon lights right in the middle of her living room.
“Hey, you match the pole,” I said to Gertie as it blinked shapes of turquoise, green, and pink.
“That’s because she’s dressed for the pole,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie brightened and Ida Belle shook her head.
“Don’t even think about it,” Ida Belle said. “You had to take off those ridiculous shoes just to make it around the block. There’s no way you need to fling them up on a pole. They weigh as much as your purse, and that’s no small thing to say.”
Gertie was about to respond when Ronald rushed over and gave me a hug with his free arm. His other hand was clutching a champagne glass. As usual, he’d gone all out for the event—an evening gown in glittery silver, combat boots, and what could best be described as a Dolly Parton wig. Hey, at least he hadn’t gone for the Dolly Parton boobs.
“I love the boots!” Gertie said.
“Of course you do,” Ida Belle said.
“Everyone with taste loves the boots,” Ronald said. “They’re Gucci.”
He gave me a quick once-over and shook his head. “I see you’re back to college dorm room chic.”
I shrugged. “You can take the girl out of the dorm room…”
“But Gertie,” Ronald said, “you have really outdone yourself. It’s not a combination of colors or fabrics I would have chosen for myself, but I applaud your flair.”
“And her self-confidence,” Ida Belle said.
Ronald looked over at her. “I see you’re bringing in another year with the Farmers’ Almanac/Guns & Ammo look.”
Ida Belle grinned. “You can take the girl off the farm, but you can’t take the gun away from the girl.”
Ronald laughed. “I just love you three.”
“You’re about to love me even more,” Ida Belle said and pulled an envelope out of her pocket. “This is your cut of the queen winnings.”
“My cut?” Ronald looked confused.
“You did the hard work of getting Fortune into the perfect dress and the hair and makeup and everything else,” Ida Belle said. “And after that fiasco at the dress shop, you earned it. I’ve sent Daphne a very generous gift card to the Ritz spa, and if you can repair the dress, she can resell it.”
Ronald took the envelope and checked his outfit for a place to put it, then smiled.
“I’ll just tuck this away when I’m somewhere more private,” he said and leaned in. “Ally is here with a perfectly dreamy man. I know I’ve seen him around but he’s not from Sinful. Spill.”
“That’s Mannie,” I said. “He’s the Heberts’ top guy.”
Ronald sucked in a breath. “Is Ally safe?”
Ida Belle stared. “Given that she’s dating the Heberts’ right-hand man and best friends with Fortune, I’d say she’s the safest person in Sinful.”
“Good point,” he said. “I think I need another drink. Nora installed a fountain in her backyard and she’s running champagne through it. It’s completely unsanitary but so fabulous I had to have a glass. Or two.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “We don’t have to count things until midnight.”
As he jaunted off, I pulled Gertie away from the stripper pole and we headed for the kitchen to load up before the food was cleaned out. It was shoulder to shoulder there. Food crowded every countertop, and a long folding table was set up spanning the length of the dining room just off the kitchen. We filled our plates and headed out the back door for a breath of fresh air and to find a place where we could lift our hands to eat without elbowing someone.
The backyard had plenty of people, but Nora had played it smart and rented outdoor furniture. There were groups of sitting areas dotted all over the patio and backyard, all with side tables to hold drinks and food. Several firepits were going with chairs circled around them, and the hot tub was at capacity. The champagne fountain was the centerpiece of the setup and I had to admit, it was pretty cool. Figuring that the alcohol would cancel out the unsanitary part that Ronald mentioned, we all grabbed a glass and headed for a cluster of vacant chairs in the back corner of the yard. That way, we could enjoy the food and watch all the partygoers.
We’d barely taken our seats before Ally spotted us and she and Mannie headed our way. They also had plates of food and took over two more of the chairs, leaving only one available in our little section.
“It’s good to see the two of you here,” Gertie said, grinning. “Together.”
Ally blushed and Mannie returned Gertie’s grin.
“I’m just glad she agreed to claim me,” Mannie said. “Nora is kinda scary.”
We all laughed.
“Yeah, Carter avoids her like the plague,” I said. “I’m not sure if it’s more because he thinks he’ll have to arrest her for having something illegal or she won’t stop hitting on him.”
“At least I’m in good company,” he said and laughed. Then he lifted his champagne glass. “Here’s to some more good company.”
“And the New Year’s Queen,” Ally said.
We all clanked glasses and gossiped as we tackled our food.
“Aunt Celia came into the bakery this afternoon mad as a hornet,” Ally said.
“Was that after she got my text?” Gertie asked.
“Probably, since she already knew about the vote,” Ally said. “And I’m sure that peeved her plenty but she was mad because someone stole all the cash from her purse. She has a contractor coming on Monday and had five hundred in cash.”
“When was it stolen?” Ida Belle asked.
“She got the cash out of the bank Thursday afternoon,” Ally said. “But she didn’t notice it was missing until lunch today when she went to pay in the café and the envelope was gone.”
“Why the heck was she carrying it around with her?” Ida Belle asked. “She should have had it stuffed in a sock drawer or her freezer.”
“Or up her butt,” Gertie said. “No one’s about to look there.”
“She said with all the parade stuff, she forgot to take it out,” Ally said.
“Well, who had access?” I asked.
“Exactly what I asked her,” Ally said. “Her purse has a zipper top, so it’s not like someone could bump against her and make off with something inside without her knowing. But as soon as I suggested it had to be someone who’d been left alone with it, she clammed up.”
I looked over at Ida Belle and Gertie.
“Sounds like our friend RJ got some of that cash she needed,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Ally asked.
Since I couldn’t imagine it could cause trouble for Ally, I filled her in on what I’d seen transpire between RJ and Brock before the parade. Ally’s eyes widened as I talked.
“And then someone killed Brock,” Ally said.
“Might have killed him,” I said.
“The ME’s ruling was undetermined,” Mannie said. “But he’s maintaining suspicious death with a strong leaning toward homicide. Our source said he doesn’t like the look of it but doesn’t have concrete proof. He’s hoping the cops can piece it together.”
“What?” I sat up straight. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I just got the information on the way to Ally’s,” he said. “And since we were sure to see you here, I figured I’d just wait and give you everything in person.”
“There’s more?” Gertie clapped her hands. “Well, put down that plate and get to talking.”
“Big made phone calls to get some background on Brock and RJ’s time in Nashville,” Mannie said. “One of those was to a retired beat cop who was helpful back when the Heberts had some issues with some of the shadier practices in the music industry. Anyway, this cop said Brock was known to local law enforcement—bounced checks, stiffing bars on bills, drunken brawls—the usual fare for his type, but nothing so serious it kept him in jail long enough to matter. This cop also said that rumor was Brock owed money to a local drug dealer called Payday.”
“Payday?” Gertie asked.
“‘Candy man’ is slang for drug dealer,” I said. “He’s being whimsical.”
“A whimsical drug dealer,” Ida Belle said. “God save us.”
“Well, it fits because everyone says the guy is nuts,” Mannie said. “Word on the street is that for about a year now, Brock has been selling product in the clubs he and RJ were playing. And a recent delivery of product got sold but the revenue didn’t make it back to the supplier.”
I whistled. “That is a problem.”
“It gets even more interesting,” Mannie said. “Big also spoke to an industry person he knows. Apparently, a producer for a television series set to start filming in Nashville showed an interest in licensing that song of RJ and Brock’s for the theme song of the show.”
“Wow!” Ida Belle said. “That could be worth some cash.”
“Then why is Brock so desperate for money if it’s about to come in?” I asked. “Even a drug dealer knows dead people can’t pay up. So wait for the payout and collect payment with a lot of interest.”
Mannie nodded. “Except RJ is trying to cut Brock out of the deal. She’s claiming she’s the sole writer for the song. That Brock was just a guitar player.”
“How was it licensed originally for the collaborative album it was on?” I asked.
“They were both referred to as ‘contributing artists,’ which is likely intentionally vague,” Mannie said. “But this TV producer doesn’t want to license their version of the song. He just wants the song itself and will have his own people remake it.”
“So the song creator is the one in line for the cash,” I said.
“Exactly,” Mannie said. “RJ produced what she claims is the original sheet music and lyrics. Apparently, Brock can’t read music but RJ can.”
“Sawyer made her take music lessons,” Ida Belle said. “She wanted her on the pageant circuit with Pansy, but RJ wasn’t having any of it.”
“Well, Brock was claiming RJ is trying to pull a fast one,” Mannie said, “so the lawyer is going to have the ink date tested.”
“To make sure she didn’t fake some documents recently just to get the deal,” Ida Belle said. “That’s a lot of trouble for the attorney to go to.”
Mannie nodded. “Which tells me there’s probably a pile of cash on the line. Big said it’s probably a good licensing fee up front but if the series takes off, then that’s more fees with every season and even more on top of that if it goes into syndication. And no lawyer wants to get wrapped up in an intellectual property rights mess, so he’s making sure he’s in the clear before he moves forward with the negotiation.”
“If the pot is big enough to go around, why bother trying to claim it all?” I asked. “Why not just split it to get their hands on the cash quicker? Apparently neither one is flush, so why quibble and risk the TV guy finding another song that’s less problematic?”
“All good questions,” Mannie said. “Big said that the lawyer hasn’t conveyed to the TV producer that there’s an issue, so right now, he thinks it’s still a negotiation with the correct people and nothing is standing in their way except the deal-wrangling. As to why RJ is trying to take the entire haul—word is her voice is shot. She can’t even handle a full set at a bar without a bunch of breaks and a constant influx of hot tea and whiskey. And apparently, Brock took up with another singer a couple months back—professionally and romantically.”
“So the only skill set she has is gone and so is her man,” I said. “I can see how that would prompt her to try to get it all.”
Ida Belle nodded. “And running home gets her free board while her lawyer gets it handled.”
“So she killed Brock when he followed her here?” Gertie asked.
“She’s definitely got the strongest motive,” I said. “With Brock dead, no more issues with the licensing. It’s not like he’s got an estate that’s going to challenge it.”
“And as you pointed out, Payday only benefits with Brock alive,” Ida Belle said.
“Let me muddy the waters,” Mannie said. “What if Payday heard about RJ trying to cut Brock out of the deal? In that case, he might choose to make an example of Brock. After all, he can only allow Brock to walk around so long without paying up.”
“And if there’s no indication that Brock can come up with the money…” I said.
Mannie nodded. “And the plot gets even thicker. Guess who strolled into town on Thursday?”
“Payday?” Gertie asked.
“Close enough,” Mannie said. “His new enforcer. Our retired source said the drug task force has been trying to make a case against Payday for years, so they’ve been tracking the key players in his crew. Our source had drinks with one of the task force members yesterday and he told him that they tracked a recently acquired enforcer—a guy who goes by Sledgehammer—to Sinful.”
“There’s your guy in the shadows at the parade,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie sighed. “Well, it was fun while it lasted, but this one is no great mystery. If RJ didn’t kill Brock, then this enforcer did.”
“It seems that way,” Mannie said. “But the odd thing is Sledgehammer is still here.”