Another finger went up. “Second strike.”
Jean had a hard time swallowing around the bitterness in her throat. “Please tell me it’s not a snake.”
“Damn!” Hildy smacked the table with her hand. “I can’t believe you got that. But you’ll never guess where it is.”
“You might be surprised.”
Hildy’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“No,” Jean said honestly, standing up from the table. This was a time for action, not words.
“Where are you going?” Hildy reached for her bag. “Does this have something to do with Charlie Pike? Jean! Let me come with you.”
“Not now, Hildy.” Somebody was about to get his ass handed to him.
Snake and all.
Prince of Pilsner Disappears!
VIP Mystery of the Week, Page Seven
While Adriana Asebedo and seven of her closest pals enjoyed a girls’ trip to Cabo in the wake of her latest breakup, the singer’s ex is nowhere to be seen. Reports that the junior brewing magnate was spotted homesteading in Alaska were recently debunked, leaving the public to wonder: Where could he be hiding?
Chapter 10
Mugsy rubbed her temples. “What makes you think this girl doesn’t know you’re beer royalty?”
“There’s no such thing, Mugsy. Beer is a fundamentally democratic beverage.”
She held up a hand. “Your name is on billboards and neon signs.”
“I’m just Charlie to her. And she’s Jean to me. That’s all we need.” He didn’t want to say more than that, because it was nobody else’s business.
“Did she ever have access to your phone?”
“No.” It was a reflexive denial, followed by a carousel of inconvenient memories. Jean taking pictures of the painting on his back. The time he’d come out of the bathroom to find her reaching for his phone to silence it. Totally normal and reasonable moments that it was not cool of Mugsy to make him question.
“Do you knowherlast name?” Mugsy challenged.
“I know she’s from Wisconsin.” Though maybe mentioning her family wasn’t the best move, after what Jean had revealed about her history. Mugsy could be a little quick to judge. “And she’s a very talented artist.”
“It’s Harrington. Her last name.” Mugsy barely paused to let that settle. “How about her roommate? Do you know whatshedoes?”
His hand almost shot up. This one he could answer. “She’s in the sciences.”
“Oh really? Then why does she have a byline on a travel story that lists her as a Johnson Media freelancer?”
Charlie frowned, trying to remember Jean’s exact words. “How do you know all this?”
“Because I spent five minutes on the internet, Charlie. And you know what I found? Two Jeans work at this resort, one of whom is a French guy. It was a couple of clicks. Everything I needed to know about this woman you were shacking up with. And then some.”
Not everything. He couldn’t bring himself to voice the protest with Mugsy looking at him like he’d just given a scammer his bank account number. “I must have misunderstood.”
“Or you were lied to.” Mugsy tossed a book into his suitcase.
“It doesn’t mean anything bad.”
“Then why was Hildy Johnson—also of Johnson Media—spotted checking into this resort half an hour ago, according to one of her many Instagram fans?”
