Page 25 of Lethal Seduction

"Hey, don't fat shame me." Joe feigns being upset.

"No, buddy. I want you to be able to chase down suspects with me for years to come. There's no way I want to break in another partner if you go and have a heart attack on me."

"My wife cooks with lard, Michael. You've tasted her carnitas."

"Delicious," I say, my stomach reminding me I haven't eaten lunch yet. "Maybe we should get something from the taco stand later?"

"The one outside Burger Barn?"

I see the way his eyes glaze over and know he's thinking about the way the owner of the taco truck shaved the meat right off the bone in front of us—thin slivers of deliciously seasoned meat filling a street-sized corn tortilla, almost no room for anything but salsa and maybe a sprinkle of cotija cheese.

"Don't tell my wife," he says. "We're supposed to go out to dinner with her parents tonight. If she finds out I filled up on Mexican food when we're going to an El Salvadorian restaurant tonight, she will cut me." He grabs my arm and stops me for a second. “I’m serious… she’ll cut me, bro.”

I laugh. "Your secret is safe with me." Throwing my hands up in mock fear of what his wife might do, I share a laugh with him, and we start back toward the entrance to the country club.

We finally make it from the guest parking to the front door. We stop and take a deep breath, slowly letting it out before we keep moving. It was something we both regularly did to calm our nerves and get into character, of sorts. We have to play the part of serious detectives, and while we are, nobody likes a hard-ass.

We walk into the club and are immediately approached by the concierge. "Is there something I can do for you, gentlemen?" the tiny woman wearing an all-white uniform and carrying a towel asks as she approaches us. Her name tag reads: Tonya Bishop and beneath her name, Manager.

"We'd like to speak with your bartender, if you don't mind," Joe says.

"Do you have memberships?"

I flash my badge, smile, and say, "Official police business, ma'am."

Her eyes widen, and she immediately gets on the radio she carries attached to her back pocket. "Is, J.B. here?" she says into the radio.

Static and then silence is the only answer to her question.

"Ugh," she says. "We've been a little short-staffed as of late, but I can show you where to go for the bar. I know he's here, but not always responsive."

Her face is red and blotchy, and it's obvious she's embarrassed by the lack of respect her staff shows her. The woman is short, but she sure can move fast. Her tiny legs turning over at a surprising speed. I look over at my partner to make sure he isn't having difficulty keeping up with her. I also want to tap his belly again and give him the look but decide against it. It wouldn’t be right to do here, but when we get back to the car, I’ll remind him to have no more than three street tacos and not his usual six.

"Here you are, gentlemen," Tonya says, sweeping her arm in the direction of the bar. "I can provide you with a free drink if you'd like?"

"Very kind of you, ma'am, but we're on duty." Joe crosses his arms and looks side to side. "Where's… J.B.?"

"I'll radio for him to meet you here. I assume he's on a break." She checks her watch. "Not that he's scheduled for one until later, but then again… short-staffed."

"Certainly," I say, watching her face turn a deep blotchy red. "We'll wait here."

Tonya hurries away with the radio pressed against her chin, and it's obvious she's quietly berating someone on the other end. We step up to the bar and have a look around while we wait.

"I don't see anything that looks like the little plastic sword from the picture," he says. "Do all bars use them?"

"Not all of them," I say. "But plain toothpicks are boring, and the umbrellas are usually just tossed in as art these days."

"Hmm," he says, looking over the counter. "Look down there." Joe points to the open cabinet at the back of the bar. "There's supplies in there."

"What can I help you with, officers?" a voice comes from behind us.

We both turn as this good-looking dark-haired man with a decent body steps closer to us. He’s dressed in the white and blue uniform with short shorts. The way his muscular thighs flex and release with each step makes me swallow hard. Something about this guy tells me he’s got the dates lining up for him.

"J.B.?" Joe asks.

J.B. sticks out his hand, and we take turns greeting him with a firm handshake. "That's me," he says. "Tonya said you wanted to talk to me?"

"Well, yeah," I say. "We had a few questions about your supplies here at the bar."

---