Page 38 of Wedding Cake Carnage
A dull smile slowly creeps up her cheeks. “The Disco Room. Two blocks to your left. Do yourself a favor and don’t tell her you’re investigating.” She smirks. “The killer will outsmart you every single time with that information.”
She takes off, and I wonder if the killer indeed just outsmarted me.
Chapter 13
“Is disco still a thing? It hasn’t been a thing since the ’70s, right?” I ask as Everett, Noah, and Cormack—of course, Cormack, my God, it’s always Cormack—as we head into an all-black storefront with a plain black door. The only signage this place has is a spinning neon record that pierces ten feet into the sky.
“It’s making a comeback,” Noah assures me.
Everett leans this way. “Sort of like your relationship with Cormack.”
I can’t help but make a face. Everett got him there. It’s seven-thirty, the weather is monstrously warm, and the air holds the scent of night jasmine. I’m guessing that fresh scent will soon be replaced with body odor once we enter through that grungy door.
The Disco Room, where Tracy Underwood pointed us to, is supposedly the establishment Pierce’s inamorata, a woman by the name of Monica, works—readdances.
Both Everett and Noah are dressed to kill—and yes, that pun still slays.
Cormack has adorned herself in some number that consists of feathers peeking from her blouse. I’m not sure I have the time to analyze that properly nor do I care to. I’d ask how she came to be in our presence, but at this point I’m believing Everett. Noah wouldn’t want her in his presence this much unless he wanted her. She’s not really a stalker.
“I had a hard time keeping up.” Cormack jabs Noah in the chest with her finger. “You nearly lost me at that last turnout, but I caught up as soon as we hit the Leeds county line.”
On second thought, both Noah and Everett appear to have stalkers.
An egregiously loud roar thunders from behind as a tiger the size of a dining room table slinks our way.
“Oh good, Beasty’s here.” I finally filled Everett in on Beasty and Lea last night. He seemed both amused and mildly alarmed.
Cormack grunts. “Hear that, Big Boss? It looks like Lexi has her own special nickname for Essex.” She frowns over at me a second. “Hey? Why don’t you call him Essex? I mean, the two of you have done the deed, right?”
Everett sniffs as his chest expands with pride. “That’s right, we have. Many, many savory times. In fact, we did it just last night at the dance studio.”
My mouth falls open as I look to Noah. And suddenly, he looks as if he’s not sure what exactly this deed consists of. It’s best he be left in the dark. A tiny part of me still feels as if I’m cheating on him whenever I’m with Everett. And oddly enough, the opposite felt true when I was with Noah, too, even though Everett and I hadn’t done a thing up until that point.
Beasty growls as he precedes us inside.
The rest of us head on in and are quickly accosted by the sound of the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive” on blast. The scent of burgers and curly fries permeates the air, and I’m hopeful I’ll at least get a decent meal out of the deal. Just past the bright red reception area, it looks to be your average restaurant dotted with enormous round tables as far as the eye can see. The walls are lined with vinyl records, and there’s a dance floor near the DJ booth up front, sparsely populated at the moment, but the night is young.
Beasty sits upright and his enormous head is just about eye level with mine. “Why do you humans insist on deafening yourselves with sounds that are clearly abusive?”
“Are you kidding?” My hips begin to shake as I snap my fingers. “This is amazing. It puts me in the very best mood.” I wink over at Everett and Noah frowns. “It makes me feel as if anything is possible.”
A waitress with a rainbow-colored wig that looks like an overgrown snow cone greets us with a smile. She’s wearing a crop top that readsdisco infernoand she’s paired it with a gold lame skirt. There are so many fashion blunders taking place all at once, my poor eyes don’t know where to look to catch a break.
“Welcome to the Disco Room! Do you have a preferred server?”
I suck in a quick breath. “Actually, yes. Is Monica in tonight?” Ha! And here I thought she was a topless dancer whom I’d have to bombard with questions after she shook her milk makers at Everett and Noah for the better part of an hour.
“Sure thing!” The talking snow cone is quick to usher us to a table near the back and Beasty sits in that invisible space between Everett and me. “Here are your menus.” She hands each one of us a tall laminated ledger. “All we ask is that you keep menus, purses, and hands off the table until your server is through. She’ll be out shortly.”
I glance to Everett and Noah. “Strange instructions.”
Cormack grunts. “As if I would ever put my purse on a table. I won’t put it on the floor either. No sirree. You know what they say—purse on the floor, money out the door.” She pats the seat between us. “Here, Logan, you put your purse next to mine.”
I remove my tiny leather backpack with extreme caution as I set it next to me. It has my trusty gun in it, and God forbid Cormack should start digging around in there and accidentally on purpose misfire in my direction.
Everett’s forehead wrinkles as he looks at the menu, inspiring me to glance at mine.
Meat torte, hot dog octopus, fondue, corn chip prune dip, tuna and waffles, pimento loaf cake, peanut butter potato salad, prune kebabs, gelatinous shrimp, baked bean mold, beef burger pancakes, ham and banana with hollandaise—the fun never ends.