19. Lottie

LOTTIE

T he late afternoon sun is nothing but a dream as I step out of the bakery with the scent of sugar and vanilla clinging to me like a second skin. I’ve hardly taken two steps when I hear the rapid-fire click of heels on the pavement behind me. I don’t even need to turn around to know who it is.

“Not without me, Toots,” Carlotta calls out, catching up with me in record time. She’s wearing some leopard-print monstrosity that makes her look like she just escaped from the zoo and her hair is rising up above her head like a tornado.

“What’s happening here?” I eye that outfit with a modicum of suspicion. Usually, Carlotta is wearing my clothes, and to my knowledge I haven’t ventured into jungle attire just yet.

“I’ve got a hot date with Harry down in the Jungle Room later.”

“That explains everything,” I moan.

The Jungle Room would be the bawdy basement beneath the already bawdy basement down at Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club. It’s filled with themed enclaves where couples can shell out the big bucks to get kinky in style.

“While you ran off to the hospital, I ran off to a boutique and picked up something snazzy—and easy to tear off my body,” Carlotta continues. “So how’s Sam’s new twerp?”

“She didn’t have it, false alarm.” I’d admonish her for using the word twerp , but I don’t have a single second to kill.

I’m about to take off again when a spray of miniature blue stars twinkle between us and Petey the polar bear materializes in all his furry glory.

“Where’s the fire?” He looks past me. “I saw you rushing off. Is it that pizza place we’re headed to?” He hitches his snout toward Mangias, a cute little Italian gem right across the street from my bakery. “I’ve been having a craving for something saucy.”

“You and me both,” I say. “In fact, I’ll rectify that tonight. Right now, we need to talk to Francine. I just found out from Sam that Suze has been making drops of cash to the bank and it has something to do with the danger she’s in. Sam also let me know that Francine Dundee has something to do with this.” I take another step out and Carlotta tap dances her way next to me. “No, no, no,” I tell her. “You and Francine are like oil and water. You’ve already gone around the block with her. It’s time I go at it on my own. Go on, shoo .” I flick my fingers at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be terrorizing someone else’s day right about now?”

She links her arm through mine and gives a wicked grin. “Oh, please, Lot. Terrorizing your day is my favorite pastime. Besides, you’re up to something, and I’m not letting you go at it alone. Foxy and Sexy wouldn’t want me to either. Consider me your partner in crime.”

Petey links his arm to my other side and I sigh.

“Come on, Lottie,” he pleads. “We need a generous soul like Carlotta who freely shares her bear claws. And if things get dangerous, we’ll know who to toss to the wolves.”

I make a face. “You’d think that would ward her off, but Carlotta looks forward to getting tossed to the wolves.”

“Tall, strong, stinky, hairy, and sexy.” Carlotta ticks her head wistfully at the thought. “Now that I know there are wolves involved, I may never leave your side. Come on, let’s nail that battle-axe to a wall. Petey, you knock Francine’s teeth out. Lot Lot, you can threaten to take her place as the boob with most babies in this town. That’s enough to make her cry for a decade.”

Before I can answer, I catch sight of Francine across the street, slipping into a beat-up burgundy minivan that looks as if it’s seen better days—possibly in the last century. My heart skips a beat. This could be it, the break I need to figure out what’s going on with her and Suze.

“We need to get in my car,” I hiss at both Carlotta and Petey, yanking her toward my minivan parked at the curb. “We’re following her.”

Carlotta’s eyes light up with glee. “ Ooh , a good old-fashioned stakeout. I call shotgun.”

“And I call the hood,” Petey says. “I like the icy wind blowing through my fur.”

We hop into my minivan, and I pull out smoothly, keeping a safe distance as we tail Francine through Honey Hollow and right onto the highway. Francine drives us right into Leeds and both Carlotta and I gasp at that one.

“What in the world is a woman like Francine Dundee doing in a seedy place like this?” I say, shaking my head as we follow her right into the heart of the downtown district.

“So, what’s the plan when we catch up with the hussy?” Carlotta bleats. “Rough her up? Shine a flashlight in her eyes? Maybe I’ll just channel my inner bad cop for the occasion.”

“Your inner bad cop?” I snort. “Carlotta, your entire personality is bad cop.”

The drive through Leeds is more or less uneventful—pretty much a miracle considering the dark element this town seems to attract.

I follow Francine’s beat-up van, which seems to be chugging along as if it’s powered by sheer stubbornness. Leeds is a hotbed of sinners, so to see a self-proclaimed saint making her way through the town as if she owns it makes me twice as curious as to what’s going on.

She pulls up to a tall glossy structure comprised of glass and steel—otherwise known as the Fletcher Hotel, a surprisingly snazzy-looking place in a “we’re trying too hard” sort of way.

It’s the kind of place that might have been luxurious fifty years ago, but now it’s just clinging to the last shreds of its former glory. I’ve never been inside, but I’ve always marveled at it from afar.

We park across the street and watch as Francine exits her van, glancing around as if she’s about to meet a mob boss before entering the slightly decrepit hotel. Carlotta and I exchange a look, and without a word, we hop out and follow her.

Petey floats down next to us. “This is it, Lottie. We’re going to catch the wicked witch in action.”

I make a face his way. “She’s not really a wicked witch.”

“Carlotta says so.” He shrugs as if the moniker were out of his hands and written in stone. And considering he seems to be relying on Carlotta to fill his belly, he’s not in a position to argue. “Don’t you think it’s strange she’s here, about to indulge in wicked deeds? The woman seemed so sweet to me. I’ve seen more than my fair share of people back at the zoo, and she strikes me as someone who would toss me an extra bucket of sardines if given the chance.”

“What kind of person do I strike you as?” Carlotta dares to ask.

He snorts at the thought. “You’d be sneaking into the lion’s cage and proclaiming yourself the new queen of the jungle.”

“Only after I had my way with the king,” Carlotta snorts back.

“Good grief,” I groan. “That’s fifty shades of illegal. And would you two behave? We need to be inconspicuous.”

I’m about to edge my way to the entrance when Francine zooms back out, with a dark blue tote bag slung over her shoulder—one that was nowhere near her person when she went inside.

She’s about to cross the street when Carlotta throws herself in front of the woman.

Francine screams bloody murder.

Carlotta screams bloody murder.

And Petey howls and yowls so loud, I’m pretty sure they heard it on the moon.

Francine jumps back and gets a better look at us. “What are the two of you doing here?” she snaps, clearly not thrilled to see us.

Carlotta leans her way with a snarl on her face. “We were just in the neighborhood. And imagine our surprise when we saw you sneaking around like a lady of the night looking to turn a trick!”

“ Carlotta .” I shake my head her way. “I’m sorry, Francine.”

“Don’t apologize,” Francine snips while holding the bag close to her side as if it might up and disappear. Although, in this neighborhood, a mugging is more likely.

Come to think of it, I hold my bag close as well.

“And never apologize for her, Lottie.” Francine glares at the two of us, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t have to explain myself to either of you. Stay out of my business.”

Carlotta gives the woman a predatory grin. “Well, we made it our business, honey. And let me tell you, whatever you’re up to, it can’t be good. So why don’t you save us all some time and just spill the beans before you dig yourself any deeper? What do you know about a cash drop, and what does it have to do with Suze the Snooze?”

Petey sighs. “So much for being inconspicuous.”

He’s so right.

“Please, tell us what you know,” I plead with the woman. “Tell us everything before either you or Suze gets in any deeper.”

Francine scoffs as her eyes dart to the hotel entrance. “Deeper? I’m not the one in trouble here.”

Carlotta scoffs at the thought. “Listen, big, fake Frannie. You’re headed straight to Hell in a handbasket if you don’t start talking. And trust me, that’s an elevator ride downstairs that you don’t want to take.”

Francine raises an eyebrow, clearly unamused. “Me? Going to Hell? That’s rich coming from you, Carlotta. If anyone’s got a first-class ticket to the underworld, it’s the person I’m looking at. So maybe you should worry about your own afterlife instead of mine. When I go home, I’m headed upstairs. You’re the one going downstairs, Carlotta! And it’s not going to be a party.”

“You think I’m scared of a little fire and brimstone?” Carlotta belts out a laugh. “Please. I’ll be running the place in no time.”

I can totally see that happening.

Good grief. I’d better step in before things escalate and one of them finds out exactly which direction they’re headed in for all eternity.

“Look, Francine, we just want to know what’s going on,” I say as sweetly as I can. “Suze is involved, and that means we’re involved. So how about you quit dodging and start explaining.”

Francine’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think she’s going to tell us to take a hike. But then she lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “You two really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“It’s not in our DNA,” Carlotta quips.

Francine grunts as if she realizes she’s not going to get rid of us all that easily. “Fine. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but you’re not going to like it.”

Carlotta grins. “I don’t like anything. So hit us with your best shot.”

Francine gives her a look that could curdle milk, but then she glances at me, and I see a flicker of something—hesitation, maybe even regret. “Just remember, you asked for this.”

She takes a deep breath, and I brace myself for whatever bombshell she’s about to drop. But even though she’s about to start talking, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re only scratching the surface of whatever mess we’ve stumbled into.

Francine cranes her neck past me and her eyes fill with terror just before she belts out another one of her bloodcurdling screams.

“Who, what, where?” I shout as I turn that way and struggle to see anything other than a string of dingy-looking businesses. There’s a dry cleaner, a bank, and a woman’s shelter all sitting rather unassumingly.

We turn back around, only to see Francine speeding off in her red wagon of terror as her tires spray us down with a shower of dirty snow.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I shout as I dust myself off.

“It’s always for my sake,” he muses. “It’s nice to know I’m still a popular guy.”

I frown over at the hotel as it glitters in the quickly dimming light.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go in and see if we can make heads or tails of what just happened.”

I lead the way and head straight for the front desk where a young blonde sits filing her glossy red nails. I ask if she knows anything about the long-haired woman who just ran in and she shakes her head and tells us that Johnny came down from the penthouse and gave her something and she took off.

“The penthouse?” I muse as I glance up. “I bet it’s snazzy,” I say in hopes she offers up a little more info.”

“Oh, it’s snazzy, all right,” she says just as the phone in front of her begins to ring. “In fact, we rent half of it out for events. You know, proms, proposals, wedding receptions, funerals.” She picks up the phone and barks a hello into it.

“Who rents out a penthouse for a funeral?”

“That’s how I want to go,” Carlotta wastes no time in letting me know how she plans on wasting my money.

“Let’s go this way right now,” I say as I drag Carlotta and Petey into the nearest waiting elevator.

“Where are we headed to, Lot?” Carlotta asks as I hit the very last button on the panel.

“To the penthouse, to see a man named Johnny.”

“Johnny on the spot,” Petey says as we feel ourselves rise. “That’s what they used to call me because I was always the first to greet the new sows they brought in. That’s what they call the female of my kind. Men are boars.”

“You said it,” Carlotta says without missing a beat.

The elevator opens up, and the first thing we see is a tall, muscular man with a head the size of a walnut and arms the size of tree trunks.

“What’s the magic word?” he grunts our way and I swear the walls just shook.

“J-Johnny,” the name stammers from me, and before I can utter another word, he nods and opens up a set of double doors behind him.

A whole world of glitz and glamor sits inside. Mostly men seated around a handful of poker tables, blackjack tables, and some other card table that has me stumped as to what it could be.

Women dressed in gold glitzy dresses are milling around with dollar bills tucked in the V of their low-cut gowns. But none of that has the ability to hold my attention. Instead, I’m focused in on one hot judge surrounded by a bevy of beauties as he holds his hand close to his chest.

“Well, well, well.” Carlotta gives a dark chuckle. “It seems Sexy has a lot of explaining to do.”

He nods our way as his jaw tightens. “And so do you.”