“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I say, and I don’t bother blushing because apparently Italian food makes me shameless.
“I’m counting on it,” Cooper murmurs, his voice dropping to that low register that does things to me.
“Speaking of things that could stop my beating heart,” I tease. “Any word on what killed Larry?”
Cooper frowns. I’ll admit, my segue skills could use some finessing.
“The coroner found a toxin in his blood. Large amounts. A lethal dose.”
I gasp. Not that I’m surprised. “What kind?”
“He won’t say until the results come back.”
“Did you test the pudding?” I blink at the thought of innocent looking Julia doing the deadly deed—with her delicious corn pudding, no less.
“It’s in the lab. It should take?—”
Cooper’s about to say something else when the restaurant door opens and I give an audible groan.
Mayor Harry Nash walks in with Carlotta hanging on his arm like a sequined lampshade. They’re laughing at something private and intimate, and he’s looking at her the way a man looks at a woman he’s definitely planning to take home for activities that don’t involve municipal planning.
My appetite vanishes faster than a bad alibi.
Cooper notices my sudden change in demeanor and follows my gaze to where Mayor Nash is helping Carlotta out of her jacket.
“Ah,” Coop says. “I guess the rumors are true about him cheating on Carlotta regularly.”
Wait, what?
“Cheating?” I blink, confused. “But thatisCarlotta.”
Cooper squints across the restaurant. “Are you sure? I thought she was with someone else tonight. The war reenactment people.”
“Let’s just say she’s efficient. She’s on-again, off-again with Mayor Nash,” I explain, watching as Mayor Nash nuzzles Carlotta’s neck in a way that makes me want to bleach my eyeballs. “Apparently, tonight they’re very much on-again.”
Cooper nods. “I’m not even going to try to unpack that.”
“There’s not enough wine for this,” I mutter, then realize this is more than awkward, it’s a problem.
I’m supposed to assassinate that man, and he’s over there flirting with Carlotta while I’m trying to eat dinner like I don’t have a hit scheduled to keep to.
Mayor Nash is really starting to muck up my holiday.
“I’m gonna kill him,” I say without thinking.
Cooper’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth. “That’s a little extreme for relationship drama, don’t you think?”
If only he knew how literal I was being.
Although to be fair, Cooper probably knows more about my moonlighting career than he’s willing to admit. Like I’ve said, we’ve developed an unspoken understanding about my employment situation—he doesn’t ask detailed questions about my income sources, and I don’t volunteer information about the specific services I provide for Uncle Jimmy.
It’s this sort of willful blindness that keeps our relationship functioning while allowing him to maintain his professional ethics and me to maintain my freedom. I’ve never looked good in orange.
Before I can figure out how to backpedal from my inadvertent confession, the restaurant door opens again, and Coop’s spicy little sister, Loretta Salamander, makes her grand entrance.
“What now?” Coop looks mystified by what we’re being treated to.
And by grand entrance, I mean she’s wrapped around Flip Flapjack like a red-headed octopus who’s discovered the world’s most comfortable rock—old rock. Her flame-colored hair is teased to heights that require air traffic control clearance, and she’s wearing a leopard print dress that defies good taste. She’s got one leg hooked around Flip’s thigh, one arm draped across his shoulders, and she’s whispering something in his ear that’s making him blush from his collar to his considerably receding hairline.
