Chapter 3

Three

W e made it to the Ugly Man Tavern without running into police, or anyone who suddenly wanted to look inside the back of Hattie's truck.

As Lucy pulled into the parking lot full of pickup trucks, I had a sudden memory of being chased down that two-mile dirt driveway by gun-wielding lunatics, because that was the kind of clientele that frequented the Ugly Man.

This probably wasn't the first murder that had happened on the premises, which was a fun thought.

Lucy backed into a spot at the far end of the lot, almost in the woods. "I like this isolated spot, don't you? Less likely someone will look in the truck, and we have a straight shot out of the parking lot if we're in a hurry."

"We're investigating a murder," I pointed out. "Odds are we'll be running for our lives before the night is over."

"Right? Can't wait." She parked the truck as Hattie drove my precious Turbojet into the lot, and parked him right next to the bar under a spotlight, presumably to keep him safe from acquiring any corpses.

See? Hattie was very responsible when it came to trucks.

"What's the plan?" Lucy turned the engine off.

"Let's talk to—" I paused, cocking my head. "Did you just hear a meow?"

"You hear it, too?" Lucy sighed with visible relief. "I always hear meows. I dream about being killed by King Tut almost every night. He's the most terrifying attack cat on this planet."

"He would never hurt you," I said, almost certain of my words. I heard a meow again, and I turned around in my seat, then jumped when I saw King Tut's yellow eyes glaring at me through the window to the back of the truck. "Oh, God. We forgot he was in there!"

I slid the window open, and he gave me a disgruntled look before easing his way into the front seat between me and Lucy. "There's raspberry filling on his whiskers."

"He was probably so disappointed when he realized it wasn't blood." Lucy opened the door as Hattie ran up. "Too bad we can't bring him into the tavern. He'll have to wait in the truck."

"In the truck? What if the murderer steals the truck with the body in it?" I pulled him into my arms. "We're bringing him in."

Lucy shook her head. "You can't bring a cat into a tavern."

"No one will even notice." I unzipped my sweatshirt and piled seven hundred pounds inside, and then zipped him up. "When I rescued him from my nasty neighbor, I made him a promise to always keep him safe. That includes not letting him get kidnapped by a murderer."

Lucy gave me a resigned look. "You look like you're about to give birth to an elephant."

King Tut popped his head out of the top of my sweatshirt and started purring.

Lucy threw up her hands. "No one's going to notice him? Really?"

"Honestly, King Tut would probably take out the murderer," Hattie said. "Maybe leave him in the truck? Just to make our life easy."

I stared at them. "No."

"Yeah, you're right. King Tut would have to go to cat prison then, and we love him too much for that. It'll be fine. No one here is going to care," Hattie said. "Much worse things have been in the Ugly Man many, many times."

Lucy shot us both baleful looks, but she got out of the truck. "I'm going to get a really big dog to eat that cat."

"Wouldn't work. King Tut would win," Hattie said. "Leave the keys in the ignition. Just in case someone decides to steal the truck. I'm willing to sacrifice my truck to stay out of prison?—"

She stopped, staring across the parking lot with a frown.

Lucy and I turned to see what she was looking at. A large man in jeans, a black sweatshirt, and work boots was walking into the Ugly Man. He glanced across the parking lot, giving us a chance to see his face in the spotlight.

"Oh…" Lucy took a step back. "He looks like the kind of man who would shoot us for fun."

"He's got a nasty vibe." My mom, champion con artist that she was, had spent much of my childhood teaching me how to read people, mostly to make sure that when we selected a mark, we chose one who wasn't actually dangerous.

The man who'd just walked into the Ugly Man Tavern was dangerous. I could feel it in my bones, and I trusted my bones.

"Well, that man is Charles Barnes, Beckwith's brother and business partner of Diamond Pie Baking Company," Hattie said. "Let's follow him." Then she took off across the parking lot, raced up the steps, and disappeared into the front door of the seedy, man-cave tavern.

Lucy didn't follow her. "You know, I think I may have been a little overzealous when I said how much fun this was going to be. I forgot about the whole murderers-actually-kill-people thing."

I shifted King Tut to the right side of my sweatshirt, and then tucked my left arm through Lucy's. "Well, let's go get Hattie, talk her into reporting it to the cops, and then go home and finish our drinks."

She looked over at me as we headed toward the front door. "Hattie's future freedom is at stake. Plus, she basically stole a body, and we were accessories after the fact. She'll never turn it over to the police."

I sighed. "I know."

Boy, did I know.

As I pulled open the front door, I hoped I was wrong about how dangerous Charles Barnes was.

But my mom had trained me well.

The odds of me being wrong were not nearly as high as I wanted them to be.