Page 6 of Covert Chaos

And so I could put King Tut down. Good heavens. Why had I thought carrying a massive beast around for the evening was a good idea?

Lucy took Hattie's arm. "Mia's right, Hattie. That's why this is fun. Because we manage to stay alive each time we go after a murderer. If we get killed, then we don't get to do it again, and where's the fun in that?"

Hattie grumbled under her breath, but she knew we were right. "Fine." She turned to survey the room. "Every table is full. I'm trying to evil-eye someone into giving up their seats, but everyone is avoiding eye contact."

Lucy nodded. "You're like Medusa. Everyone knows not to look at you."

Hattie raised her brows. "Medusa? You're calling me a banished, evil goddess with snake hair, who turns people to stone simply by getting them to look at her?"

"I am."

Hattie blew her a kiss. "Thank you for the compliment, my dear. I appreciate it. Every woman needs to feel empowered."

"We do, indeed," Lucy said cheerfully. "Mia, go send King Tut out there. Have him eat someone. I can see he's getting restless."

I zipped my sweatshirt up higher to cover his head. He immediately started growling, and his back claws dug into my stomach in protest. "Hang on. Maybe we know someone."

"I looked already. There's no one here?—"

"Check again. There's always an opportunity if you keep looking." It was kind of disturbing how often my mom's con artist advice came into play in my law-abiding adult life. Once a criminal, always a criminal was the life wisdom I was trying to prove wrong, but the corpse in the truck outside was making that difficult.

While Lucy and Hattie discussed who they could kick out, I carefully scanned the crowd, one table at a time.

The middle of the tavern was filled with long tables and benches, designed for groups to sit together and new friends to be made.

Along the outside were booths, and that's where I wanted to sit, because it would give us the best view of the tavern. I scanned each one, and then, I grinned. Whoever was sitting in the end booth had hidden behind a notebook, sunglasses, and an old fishing hat. His sweater was ragged, and his shorts were ripped.

He looked like a homeless truant, except for the obscenely expensive watch on his wrist and the bejeweled flipflops on his feet.

I knew those flipflops.

Five

Those flipflops were on some very famous, very anti-social feet.

Beau Hammersley, a local recluse who was an extremely successful and wealthy mystery writer about Hattie's age. He hated the world, he hated people, but he had a mad crush on my mom.

"Bingo," I said. "Follow me." I hoisted King Tut up, then headed across the tavern.

I trotted across the bar and slipped into the booth beside him. "Beau. Hi!"

He lowered the notebook while Hattie and Lucy sat across from him. "No. Just no." Then he raised the notebook again to block us out.

I rested King Tut on my lap, and shook out my aching arms. "Beau."

My favorite mystery writer ignored me.

"Beau!" Hattie said.

"Hi, Beau," Lucy said cheerfully.

He swore under his breath, then raised the notebook higher. "You are all unwelcome."

I winked at my friends, then leaned in close to Beau to whisper in his ear. "We found a body. Murdered."

He lowered the notebook so fast I was worried he'd get a cramp in his hand. He whipped off his sunglasses, his blue eyes fixating on me. "Again? You found a body again? God almighty, Mia, you're evil personified. How do you do it?"

"I'm magical." King Tut shoved his head out of my sweatshirt and meowed at Beau.

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