Patrice Lyle - Health Nut 01 - Killer Kung Pao (16 page)

"Aunt Alfa." My blood pressure was probably approaching stroke level.

She waved her hand as if to say,
Whatever
.

Now to the really hard part. "There's something else."

She closed the facial wipes and stooped to give Brownie a kiss on his snout. "I love our little piglet."

My poor aunt. At her age, she didn't deserve this stress. I braced myself and told her Babette's claim about the Chinese food delivery kid.

"That's a total lie," Aunt Alfa said. "He wasn't around when I was loading the food into Merv's Caprice Classic."

Had she been alone with the lunch?
My heart catapulted. "But Mervyn was with you, right?"

She scrunched her face. "Nope, he was in the john."

"You had no witnesses when you took the food from the restaurant?" That couldn't be good.

Her forehead creased, making her curlers shift. "No."

Aunt Alfa didn't freak out the way I would have, however. She simply rose from her piglet-kissing crouch and did a few back stretches.

"You're not upset about this delivery kid lying to the police?"

"I could be, but you know what? I'm not going waste an ounce of my precious ninety-one-year-old energy on this bunk. I didn't kill that mouthy psychic, right?"

"Of course you didn't, Aunt Alfa. I'm on your side no matter what."

"As Swindoll said, 'Life is ten percent what happens and ninety percent how I react to it.'"

I smiled. "I know because you taught me that philosophy when I turned fourteen." It had stuck with me ever since.

"That's why I'm not worried." Her eyes misted over as she approached me. "Things always work out. With your flashcards, you'll learn the PI biz in a flash. No pun intended. You're on the case, so I'm home free."

No pressure there.

Longing to prove her innocence swelled in my heart. I was proud of her for handling the stress of being a murder suspect so well.

"I'll solve the case. I promise you." I hoped I sounded convincing.

We hugged, and as I wrapped my arms around her lithe frame, I realized something. The kind of love I felt with her—that familiar, deep-seated, unconditional kind of love—was exactly what had flowed through my body when I embraced Tattoo Tex.

He'd better not be the killer.

She kissed my cheek and glanced at Brownie. "He's out like a light. Our little guy loves to travel."

"But he hates getting sand in his hooves, remember? So you have to take him in the grass for his morning walk tomorrow."

"I won't forget." She got into bed and slipped under the covers. "We walked to a funky coffee shop earlier today and, oh…" she said, tapping her forehead. "That's what I forgot to tell you. I saw a woman in those yellow Sparkle O sandals. Remember those?"

My stomach twisted. "Was she a younger girl with dark hair?"

She sat up. "Yes."

I told Aunt Alfa about the two times I'd seen the same woman. Once in the parking lot with the psychic surgeon and once bolting down the hallway from Babette's door.

"And both of them claim they don't know her," I said.

"Pfft. Babette's lying because I saw the sandaled woman arguing with her."

"Really? Where?"

"Outside the hotel. The woman in the yellow SO sandals was throwing up her hands and yelling at Babette. I was going to ask her about the sandals, but I didn't want to barge in on a fight." Aunt Alfa pressed her head against the pillow, and her eyes fluttered shut. "Then Brownie let out a big squeal so we left."

Interesting. My PI mind was on overdrive, and I needed something to tie up this case with a dark chocolate bow. I'd bet my wellness practice that the woman in the Sparkle O sandals was connected to Mystic Ming's murder.

But how?

Too Cute To Be a Killer

Aunt Alfa was emitting dainty
zzz's
when I hit the lights and climbed into bed. I shut my eyes and tried to fall asleep. But whenever I tried too hard to sleep, it never worked. I rolled over and refused to peer at the clock. Images of the suspects rolled through my mind.

I'm missing something. I know I am
.

A few minutes later, I retrieved a bottle of Aunt Alfa's lavender essential oil spray and squirted my pillow. I must have finally fallen asleep between counting dark chocolate almond clusters because my phone alarm dinged at 5:45 AM.

Not wanting to wake Brownie or Aunt Alfa, I glided across the hotel room and into the bathroom where I had my workout clothes ready. I carefully brushed my teeth, finger-styled my wavy hair, and, because I was seeing Tattoo Tex, spritzed myself with Sparkle O's body spray.

At 5:59 I slowly undid the locks and backed into the hallway, tugging the door shut as silently as possible.

"Mornin', doc," Tattoo Tex said behind me.

I whirled around, my heart thumping. "You scared me."

He quickly calmed my nerves with the sweet, heart-pounding kiss he pressed onto my lips. "Sorry, thar."

"No apologies needed." I melted into him and realized I'd been smart to use an extra dollop of ginger mint toothpaste. Morning breath wasn't attractive on anyone.

Especially Floyd with his penchant for garlicky hummus.

I traced my finger down Jock Cowboy's cheek and admired his Texan good looks. "You ready to hit the beach?"

His black shorts and turquoise wet-dry shirt told me he was. As did the cowboy hat perched on his head. "Ready for my first lymphatic walk."

Gotta love a man who listens and learns. And who's totally hot at 6 AM.

He took my hand, and we strolled through the quiet hall, taking the steps to the lobby. No one was milling around the free coffee cart as we exited the hotel. The sun was making its daily debut, and Florida balminess surrounded us as we turned toward the beach.

"I love the ocean," I said. "I can't imagine not living by it. The Maryland shore's beautiful."

"I'd love to live by the beach." He halted near a giant cobalt blue truck decorated with black flames and white gemstones, along with the words,
Tattoo Tex
. "Need to grab my shades."

"Your truck, I take it?" How had I missed that last night? "The diamonds are gorgeous."

Gotta love a man who loves jewelry.

"My diamond tattoos got me a name in the industry, so I had them custom painted." He slipped his keys out of his shorts and opened the driver's door. He grabbed his sunglasses and beeped it shut. "I'm real proud of my truck."

"It's pretty." I gazed at the artwork. "What an incredible shade of blue." The flames were a little much, but I knew better than to insult a man's truck.

"The paint job's cool, but it's how I've altered the mechanics that makes my truck a one of a kind."

Not wanting to deny his bragging rights I asked, "What'd you do?"

"I rigged this here truck to run on peanut oil instead of gas." A proud grin spread across his face. "And it's saving me a bundle because I get a killer deal at work."

Funny choice of words.

"You all right, doc?" His eyebrows drew together in concern. "You look worried?"

I was terribly worried my romantic interest in him was in serious conflict with my PI mission. My mind raced back to the trifecta of murder. Motive, means, and opportunity.

Which one did peanut oil fit?

Means? As in he had access to the murder weapon?

"Sorry, I was thinking about…Aunt Alfa." My chest tightened, but as a PI I had to inquire about his peanut oil access. "Do you like working at the peanut plant?"

"Now I do. I used to get bored with the same old job until I found a way to make it fun." He tapped his truck, all smiles. "Rigging my ride to run on peanut oil was a real challenge."

I tried to look impressed, but my mind was on overdrive. Previously, I thought he'd only worked at the plant, which meant he didn't carry peanut oil on him.

Now things had changed.
But he's too cute to be a killer.

The most compelling evidence of my theory about his innocence, however, was the way pure friendliness glistened in his eyes when he smiled at me. No one could fake that.

Tattoo Tex gazed at his prized truck. "She drove like a dream all the way here. And the canopy on back lets me carry enough peanut oil to make it home."

Which means you have 24/7 access to the murder weapon.
Isn't that as lovely as a silver sequin?

I played it cool, however. "That's impressive. How'd you get the truck to run on peanut oil?"

While he explained his engineering feat, I wished I'd had time to review the flashcards again. Specifically any advice on motive. Would the self-disclosed run-in with Mystic Ming be reason enough to make Tattoo Tex want to kill him? I needed to steer the conversation that way if I wanted to clear him. And get on with our future.

But how?

Yes.
The idea came to me in an instant. The Body, Mind & Spirit Expo's ban on doctors next year. Perfect.

"I'm impressed," I said, once he was done with his
peanut-oil-for-gas
spiel. In addition to being cute, he was obviously quite intelligent.

Now if only I could prove to myself that he wasn't a heartless murderer.

I put on a sad face. "I guess I won't be allowed to come here next year."

He tilted his head. "Why?"

"They don't want any doctors. Only psychics." Which brought me to my next question. "Why'd you come to this expo?"

"I've always wanted to come to Florida, and I did a tattoo for this tarot reader in Dallas. She was the one who suggested the expo where I met Mystic Ming. She said my art was so cool that I should market my work to other tarot readers. I did some research and found this show."

Perfect lead-in. "Did you know Mystic Ming would be here?"

"Heck no." He laughed. "Except for that one show in Dallas, I'm not familiar with any of this psychic stuff."

Relief swam through me. He hadn't come here with the intent to harm Mystic Ming…right? Could I trust what he said?

"When Mervyn said Mystic Ming was telling people not to get tattoos, I wondered if I'd made the right move coming here." He picked up my hands and pressed them to his lips. "But after meeting you, I'm glad I did."

His comment hung between us, and my heart warred within. I'd forgotten about Mervyn's comment. If Mystic Ming thwarted Tattoo Tex's sales, would that be a strong enough motive? Was I standing next to a killer?

This amateur PI stuff isn't as fun as TV makes it seem.

He released my hands, as if sensing the moment between us was gone. "You still want to go on a walk?"

I was safe because the beach was a public place, and a few early morning walkers dotted the shoreline. Plus Tattoo Tex was hot and stirred more romantic notions in my heart than any other man, which had to mean something, but was it smart to get carried away with him?

Aw, what was one walk?

"Sure." I pointed toward the ocean. "Let's go."

"All righty, ma'am."

We strolled toward the shore clasping hands. I checked my reflection in the hotel windows. My DNA was the same as yesterday, but I felt different. Tattoo Tex energized me and made me feel comfortable being me.

I didn't worry about being too blonde or too chocolate-obsessed.

Or causing a freaking stye.

I let out a breath. I was just being hyper-vigilant with the case. Tattoo Tex had fed Brownie shredded lettuce from his hand in a restaurant, and Brownie had wolfed the lettuce without any hesitation. If Aunt Alfa were right about my piglet reading auras, wouldn't Brownie have bitten off his fingers instead?

Besides, murder hadn't been officially proven anyway. Babette could have been lying about that too.

Once we hit the sand, the salty breeze blew past us, ruffling my hair. He laughed and played with a strand near my face. The sun glinted off his happy eyes.

Such a handsome sight.

"You a walker or a jogger, doc?"

I pointed to my left knee. "Power walker. I pulled my IT band a couple of years ago, and it doesn't like jogging."

He laughed. "I was hoping you'd say that. I never liked running."

"Walking is my perfect form of exercise."

"Whatever you say, doc."

The way he said
doc
made my heart smile. I liked how he trusted me. Such a refreshing change from the constant arguments with Floyd. We picked up the pace and power-walked alongside the waves rolling onto the shore. I pulled a rhinestone hair clip from my pants pocket and wound my hair up.

"You should have warned me, doc." The goofy expression on his face told me he was joking.

I poked his arm. "Warned you about what?"

He eyed my hair carefully, every strand lingering in his gaze. "Sure do like them sexy sparkles."

Words I'd longed to hear from Floyd. Moments with Tattoo Tex were effortless, requiring no sparkle, chocolate, or pending-stye stress. Plus he looked so hot in his workout gear.

I had the best beach walk of my life that morning. The sun. The surf. The sand. And a guy who appreciated who I was.

No way was he a killer.