“No, but the word frightens men,” Aurora said. “Whenever Brody is close to winning a fight I just start saying ‘vagina’ over and over again. He freaks out and capitulates within thirty seconds.”
“Is that why you do that?” Brody looked horrified. “I always wondered.”
Booker laughed. “You guys are weak. I have no problem with the V-word.”
“He doesn’t,” Lilac confirmed, “but show him a tampon and he cowers in the corner.”
Booker murdered her with a glare. “I am not afraid of tampons. I just don’t … get them.”
“I gave you a visual tutorial,” Lilac reminded him.
“Nowthatterrified me,” he said.
I grinned, then remembered we were on a mission. “We should do this.”
“We should,” Galen agreed. “Remember,” he threw out as we started toward the door. “I’m doing the talking.”
I didn’t argue with him. I didn’t agree with him either. If I wanted to talk, I would.
The Voodoo Lounge was pretty much as I imagined. My slides stuck to the tacky floor as I crossed the threshold. The tables were old, to the point of looking as if a stiff breeze could knock them over. The chairs looked the same. There were patrons — and wasn’t it a little early to be drinking? — at the bar. They looked over their shoulders, briefly, then stared forward. They reminded me of cats. If they couldn’t see us, maybe we couldn’t see them.
“Blaine,” Galen said by way of greeting, nodding his head at the big man behind the bar. He was tall, although not as tall as Galen. He had broad shoulders, but again not as broad as Galen’s. On the mainland he would be considered a formidable specimen of a man. Here he didn’t stand out.
“Sheriff,” Blaine replied. He pushed his greasy blond hair from his face. “This is a surprise.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“I haven’t broken any laws,” Blaine blurted. “Whatever you’re looking for, it’s not here.”
Galen took a moment to glance between faces, seemingly debating if he wanted to do this in front of an audience. Ultimately, he sighed. “We need to talk about Declan Wilkes.”
I watched Blaine closely for a reaction. Was he surprised? Yes. He hadn’t expected that name to come out of Galen’s mouth. Weirdly, he seemed relieved.
“The guy who owned the bar twenty years ago?” Blaine’s forehead creased. “Why do you care about him?”
“We’re conducting an investigation,” Galen replied.
“The six of you?” Blaine tilted his head, cockiness flooding his eyes as his gaze bounced between Aurora, Lilac, and me. “Since when does the sheriff’s department employ Girl Scouts?”
He might have thought he was being funny but most of his patrons — ruddy-faced individuals who clearly shouldn’t be drinking at all, let alone so early in the day — sucked in worried breaths. I didn’t miss the fact that all of their gazes flitted to Lilac.
“If I were you, I would be careful,” Galenreplied. “These Girl Scouts can torch this bar without moving from where they’re standing … or developing a sweat.”
Blaine threw his head back and laughed. “If you say so.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before the drink on the bar in front of him — it looked to be a shot of whiskey — caught fire. Lilac hadn’t twitched as much as a finger before showing off a nifty little parlor trick.
Blaine glanced down at the shot glass, then back up. “I was going to drink that,” he whined.
“Answer our questions and you still can,” Galen replied. “We don’t want to drag this out any longer than you do.”
Blaine sighed. “I didn’t know that Declan guy. He was gone long before I bought the bar.”
“Did you ever meet Michael Smith?” Galen asked.
Blaine shook his head. “I was looking for a business to buy. There weren’t many options that weren’t tied to legacy families.” He sneered at me, as if it was my fault the land ownership requirements on Moonstone Bay were so stringent. “This was the only business on the market.”
“How did you know it was available?” Galen asked. “I don’t remember hearing this place was open for offers until news broke that you’d already bought it.”
