21. Everett

EVERETT

T he moment we step into Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club, the greasy thrill of it all hits us. Red carpet, red walls, and red lights—and we are certainly in the red light district.

The swirling lights are seizure-inducing, the music is loud, the bass is heavy and it vibrates through our bones as we move farther inside. A long stage stretches out before us, lined with half-dressed girls who are more confident in their skin than most men are in a three-piece suit.

Before we get three feet deep, a swarm of scantily clad women zero in on Noah and me as if we were the last meal at a buffet.

I’d be the steak.

Noah would be an overdone burger. Which would explain why I seem to have garnered the lion’s share of half-dressed women attempting to nestle in my wings. I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s both amused and uncomfortable. It’s written all over his stiff posture.

We offer polite nods as we move our way through and Lemon wraps both of her arms around me while giving each and every one of these women a look that could kill.

And knowing Lemon’s track record, let’s hope this night doesn’t end in tragedy.

We try to make our way toward the back, and yet the women still keep streaming my way.

Noah gives me a side glance. “You’re popular tonight. They must remember you have deep pockets.”

Carlotta strums out a laugh. “They remember taking a turn on the Sexy Express and they’re looking for another ticket to ride. But Lot Lot here has locked him up and swallowed the key—along with the entire Sexy kitchen sink. She’s greedy that way.”

“And smart,” Lemon tells her before looking up at me. “And if you’re smart, you’ll tell us everything Jimmy and Luke had to say about what was happening in that penthouse.”

“I will,” I say. “But not here.”

“I’m holding you to it,” she counters.

“As long as you’re holding me.”

A laugh bubbles from her, but her attention gets snagged on something—or rather, someone—else entirely. Her eyes light up as her sister waddles this way.

“ Meg ,” Lemon calls out, and I can’t help but notice how both of their bellies look impossibly round. Meg is due any day now, and Lemon still has two months to go, but you wouldn’t know it from the size of her bump.

Meg pulls Lemon into a careful hug. “What are you doing here? Let me guess, the three of you are celebrating your babymoon by making it rain?”

“What about me?” Carlotta jumps their way. “What am I? Chopped liver? I’m always looking for a reason to make it rain. In fact”—she glances at her watch—“I’m due to meet Harry here in fifteen minutes. We’re headed to the Jungle Room for a little kinky-winky.” She nods to the open space to her right. “Petey says let’s speed this up.” She shrugs our way. “I told him all about the zoo-themed room downstairs on the way over. Let’s just say he’s interested.”

“We’re here trying to solve a case,” Lemon says to Meg and I hang back, watching the exchange.

I’m not thrilled that Lemon is out here chasing after bad guys, doing Noah’s job for him. But I know there’s no stopping her, just like there’s no stopping me from doing what Noah should be doing. Heaven knows someone has to get the job done, and at this point, it’s clear it won’t be him.

Meg and Lemon wrap it up, and soon we’re headed down a narrow staircase that winds into the casino below. The sights and sounds hit harder here—the clink of glasses, the chatter of voices, and the unmistakable sound of money being won and lost in real time. Mostly lost.

At Canelli’s casino, the crooked house has a clear advantage.

The air is thick with smoke, and the blood-red decor doesn’t let up, making everything feel like it’s happening in some underground fever dream or portal to Hell. Take your pick.

And then I spot him—Orson Wingate, seated at a blackjack table. He looks lost in concentration, though there’s a slight smirk tugging at his lips. Earlier, he was at the poker table, and seeing as he’s still here, with a hint of a smile on his face, no less, it’s clear he hasn’t lost his pants just yet, though I’m betting he’s come close.

“There he is,” I say, nodding toward the man with his shock of white hair. “Looks like he’s still courting Lady Luck.”

But with Lemon setting her sights on him, his luck is about to run out.

Not that we suspect him of anything nefarious concerning his wife, but if we’ve learned anything during the past few years, it’s that you can’t take any theory off the table.

Lemon wraps her arms around her belly as if she’s protecting our unborn children from the sin and vice that oozes from this place.

“Stand back, boys.” She pulls up her shoulders. “I’ve got this.”

Noah and I watch as she takes off.

“What do we do now?” Noah asks, and I slice a glance his way that suggests he figures it out and fast.

“Now”—I say, keeping my voice low—“we see if Lemon can get the man to talk. Odds are he knows the killer whether he realizes it or not.”

Noah shakes his head. “I don’t think I could function if anything happened to my wife. In fact, I don’t know if I could sit upright if something happened to Lot.”

Carlotta chuckles. “Sexy might arrange for you not to be able to sit upright ever again if you keep talking as if Lot Lot belongs in your bed.” She tips her chin. “On second thought, she probably never left it. Hey? The three of you should think about joining Harry and me down in the Jungle Room. They’ve got kinky rooms to spare and enough handcuffs to chain all of Vermont to any bedpost you like.”

“Lemon and I may take you up on it,” I tell her and Noah’s eyes nearly launch out of his skull. “And if they’ve got a room for singles, I’m sure Noah will show his face, too. I can’t seem to shake him these days.” I take a moment to glower at him, and he flashes a grin my way.

“ Ooh , look.” Carlotta nods to the blackjack table where Lemon is seated right next to the poor man who just lost his wife. “Lot Lot’s doing her best, but the guy’s lips are still buttoned. Ten bucks says I can get him to talk. Let me at him.”

“No way,” Noah tells her while holding her back. “Subtlety isn’t exactly your strong suit, Carlotta.”

“Subtlety is overrated,” she says while pulling herself free. “Besides, men like Orson don’t need subtle. They need a good shaking.”

“His wife just died,” I say it low. “Trust me, he’s been shook to the core.”

We head to the table and each of us takes a seat, with Noah landing next to Lemon. His brashness is unstoppable.

I ante up and purchase chips for all of us, and Noah seems especially pleased.

We watch as the dealer shuffles the cards just as a waitress wearing pasties and not much else delivers a round of free drinks, whiskey neat all the way around and ice water for Lemon.

Carlotta jabs Lemon in the ribs. “Lot Lot, you’ve got the pick of the litter. Which of these gentlemen are you going to let hold your purse?”

“I’m more concerned which one will need smelling salts once I sweep this table clean.” She offers an amicable nod to Orson and he gives a mournful laugh.

“Young lady, I’d be careful if I were you. These guys might look harmless, but give them a deck of cards and they’ll rob you blind faster than you can say bingo night .”

“Good to know, hot stuff.” Carlotta winks his way. “But we’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves, too.”

He gives a light chuckle. “You ladies are a breath of fresh air.”

“That’s what they all say.” Carlotta cackles as the cards are dealt.

Lemon nods to Noah and me before she sharpens her attention on the new widower to her side. She’s about to do her thing.

It’s time to see if Orson is ready to show his hand.