Page 85 of Family Jewels

“I couldn’t make it.”

“I was worried.”

She released a short laugh and then began to cough. When she caught her breath, she said, “That’s funny.”

“I was. I know Buck’s not nice to you. I was worried he’d found out about our meeting.”

“What do you know about Buck?”

“Honestly, not much, but it doesn’t take a fool to realize he’s trouble with a capital T.”

She hesitated. “Let’s just say I got tied up.”

I hoped she didn’t mean literally. “How can I help you, Trixie?”

“Who says I want help?”

“Because you hardly know me, yet you’ve called me twice. I’ll try to help, but I need to know what you need.”

“I can’t talk about this on the phone. Meet me at One Eyed Joes. I’m headed there now.”

I cringed. I wasn’t sure that was a good idea given what had happened at lunch. But it was too late to ask her to meet me somewhere else. She’d already hung up.

I drove for ten more seconds, trying to make a decision, but who was I kidding. Of course I was going. The only question was whether or not to include Neely Kate, but after her earlier performance, I made the executive decision for her to sit this one out. I considered texting her to let her know, but she’d be ticked. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission had been my philosophy for the last year. No point in switching things up now.

Chapter 18

One Eyed Joeswas hopping when I walked through the door. If it was this busy on a Thursday night, what was it like on the weekends?

I spotted Trixie right away. She sat at the bar, smoking a cigarette with one hand and holding a tumbler in the other. She was dressed more sedately than the last time I’d seen her, but that wasn’t saying much. While she wasn’t wearing a sequined tube top, she had on a halter shirt with a deep V, a short skirt, and four-inch spike heels. I wondered again about her profession.

The stool next to her was occupied by a middle-aged man covered in tattoos, and when Trixie saw me approach, she gave him a rough shove. “Beat it.”

He growled at her, and for a moment I thought he might hit her, but he wandered over to a group of men at the other end of the bar. One look at her made me realize that somebody elsehadhit her. She was good with makeup, but I could see the hint of a bruise under her eye. I took his seat, inwardly cringing that it was warm.

“Is that from Buck?” I asked, lifting a finger to point in the general direction of her face.

“He found out I called you earlier.” She pinched her lips together and shifted her gaze to the four couples who were doing a line dance on the dance floor. “I need a drink.”

I gave her a hard stare. “Looks like you have one.”

She gulped down the quarter inch of amber liquid in her tumbler, then slammed the glass onto the counter with enough force I was surprised she didn’t break it. “And now I don’t.”

And now I was good and irritated. “If you’re insinuating that I’m gonna buy you another drink, you’ve got another think comin’.”

The bartender caught my eye and moseyed on over to me. “What can I get you?”

I glanced around the room. This didn’t seem like a wine kind of place. In fact, I had to wonder if they stocked any wine at all. “I’ll take a bottle of beer.”

“And I want a whiskey,” Trixie said with a slur. Great, she was already drunk. Was she even going to tell me why she’d called?

“She’s on her own tab,” I told the bartender.

“That’s okay,” he said with a wink. “Yours is taken care of.”

“By who?” I asked.

The bartended tilted his head sideways, and when I turned my attention to the opposite end of the bar, I found myself staring into the amused face of Buck Reynolds.

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