Page 44 of Macaron Massacre
Everett and I pass a sign that readsbeware of pickpockets and loose women—the official Leeds’ motto, I’m guessing.
We make a beeline to the back where Bear leads us to a room lined with pool tables and an entire army of slouched men. The music is still pretty loud but not quite jet engine levels like it was in the bar proper, and there are less scantily-clad girls in the vicinity and more flannel-clad men, which explains why it smells like feet.
“Lottie, Everett.” Bear makes wide eyes at us as he and Keelie lead us over to a man with a baseball hat on backwards, unshaven face, and eyes that look as if they have no hope. He’s chewing on a toothpick as he stakes a pool stick to the ground between his feet. “This is my buddy, Griffin Locke.” Bear slaps the guy on the arm. “We did hard time in a couple of construction jobs back in the day. Griffy here owes me one, so ask him anything you want.”
Now it’s me making crazy eyes at Bear.
Way to go. I’m sure “Griffy” here will want to spew forth all his deep, dark secrets now that he knows we’re here to investigate him. If he is the one who did it, it’s not like he’s going to fess up to killing Rich.”
“I killed the guy.” He pumps a dry smile, and my stomach bottoms out.
“Really?” I lean in, hoping he’ll say yes and Everett and I can make a citizen’s arrest. I’d love nothing more than to get my mother off the murderous hook before Lainey’s impending nuptials.
“Not really.” He holds a hand out my way, and I shake it before he does the same with Everett. “But let’s just say someone beat me to the punch. It was on my bucket list, and now I’m very disappointed I won’t get to cross that line item out with the satisfaction of knowing I did the deed myself. I’m guessing you want to talk to Dawn.” He nods just past us as a gorgeous redhead bounds over in a skin-tight tank top that bears this fine establishment’s moniker and a pair of Daisy Dukes.
Instantly, I recognize her from the bar hop blitz.
“Hi, I’m Lottie, and this is my boyfriend, Everett.” I extend a hand her way. “I’m sort of looking into your father’s case for the sheriff’s department. My mother is a suspect, and I’m trying to clear her name. Up until your father was murdered, they were engaged. I—um, am really sorry about your dad.”
“Pft.” She sprays us with spittle as she mocks my sympathy. “No, you’re not. And if you are, you never met him. The man was a bear. Scratch that. If a bear and lion had a baby, that would have been my father. He wasn’t exactly a nurturer so much as he was a deranged control freak. I’m writing a book about what it was like to live under his tyranny. I was hoping to expose him while he was still alive so I could see the rage and humiliation in his eyes, but that good time won’t happen now.”
Everett and I exchange a quick glance.
Keelie bops over with a pool stick in tow. “What happened with the two of you, anyway? Why would a father just cut you out of his life? He must have thought you did something pretty terrible, and yet I can’t imagine in a million years what I could possibly do to get on my daddy’s dark side.”
That’s because Keelie’s daddy doesn’t really have a dark side—that is, unless you’re on the wrong side of the law and you’re not blood-related. He exposes his dark side for a living as the captain of the Ashford Sheriff’s Department.
Dawn butts her hip against Griffin’s as she hugs him sideways, and they look like an adorable pair.
“This guy happened. I fell in love with Griff. And I didn’t care that our fathers didn’t get along. Griffin and I practically grew up together. The Lockes were our family friends for years before his dad”—she nods to the man she’s latched herself to—“took off with my dad’s fortune.”
Griffin glances to the floor. “He’s still in the Caribbean.”
“But”—Dawn lifts a finger—“my dad weaseled his way back to the top with dicey investments.”
Griffin nods as if to say she got it right. “And don’t forget his recreational spending habit,” he says that last part in air quotes.
Dawn takes a deep breath. “My father was a compulsive gambler. He justified it in many ways, but mostly he threw the fact he earned it, so he could do as he wished, into my mother’s face.” She pumps a dry laugh and closes her eyes at the mention of her mother. “My mom and sisters are a piece of work, too. As soon as Daddy threatened to cut them off for having anything to do with me, they quickly lost my number. My own mother—can you believe that?” Her eyes grow glossy with tears. “And to think, I thought my sisters loved me. Little did I know their love came with a price tag.”
“Don’t worry, babe”—Griffin dots her cheek with a kiss—“you’ll always have me.”
Both Keelie and I coo in unison. They really are that sweet. Who would have thought the most normal Dallas of the bunch would be the black sheep? Go figure.
On second thought, I bet that’s a scenario that plays out every day in every way.
Dawn offers a weak smile to Everett and me. “With my father, you always had to choose sides. There was no gray area. And unfortunately—or perhapsfortunatelyfor me, I chose the gray area.” She gives the scruff on Griffin’s face a quick scratch. “I heard there’s a funeral. I thought about going, but I don’t think he would have wanted me there. And I don’t want to face the rest of my family either. I don’t. We’ll see how I’m feeling.”
Geez. I don’t blame the poor girl for vacillating.
Everett looks to the side, and I can practically see his wheels turning. “A gambling problem. It makes sense. That only brings trouble into your life.”
“You think that’s the connection?” I ask, no longer worried about hiding my motives from Dawn or her boyfriend. If anything, they might be the key that unlocks this mystery. “Hey?” I look back to Dawn. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your father did his gambling, would you?”
Keelie snorts. “Ten bucks says it’s Red Satin.”
Dawn shakes her head. “Good answer, but you’d be out ten bucks. My father was into high stakes poker. This was a boys’ club through and through. They met at some mansion in Fallbrook once a week. I wouldn’t go digging around, though. My dad was flirting with the mob, and so were the other men who got suckered into that con job of a playing field. They’re the ones that professionally fleeced my father a second time. A friend of mine works at Red Satin. He helps me keep tabs on Claret and that gangster she’s trying to tie down.” She pumps her shoulders.
“If your dad and these other men were being suckered, don’t you think they would have figured it out and gone somewhere else?”