Death by Matchmaker by Brittany E. Brinegar

Author:Brittany E. Brinegar [Brittany E. Brinegar]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Britt Lizz Publishing
Published: 2024-05-20T00:00:00+00:00

In the basement level of the warehouse, a bevy of activity buzzed around us. Men with hand trucks wheeled merchandise from the half-dozen trucks. I hugged the wall and pointed. “See the giant palooka standing by our marked truck?”

Margo squinted, too vain to wear her glasses. “I can’t miss him.”

“Edward Bateman.”

“Busy my bum.” She snorted. “I will chide Tobias about dismissing your concern. Obviously, we can’t let Bateman spot you. He might just put two and two together.”

“I have an idea.” I motioned to her handbag. “Dig out your eyeglasses. You can take the pictures while I create the distraction.”

Margo opened her clutch. “Distract him how…”

I left her in my dust and weaved into the loading zone. The area was a beehive of activity; doors slammed, metal clanked, and wooden boxes slid across cement floors.

I tussled my hair and applied bright red lipstick. My voice rose an octave to the flighty persona of ‘Dolly’, the dancing secretary who had a swell time with the palooka. “Eddie! Oh, Edward. Is that you I spy with my two little eyes?”

Bateman wore a white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up and went without a jacket. He tipped his hat backward and his forehead shined underneath the electrical lights. He mopped the perspiration and primped his appearance. “Dolly? What are you doing here?”

“Took a chance on finding you.” I breezed close enough for a whiff of the clove of garlic he ate for lunch. “I owe you an apology for running out the other night.”

“Sure do, Doll. I am still steamed over you leaving me sitting alone like a chump. Care to explain?”

I covered my ears to block the high-pitched beep of machines. “Is there somewhere quieter?”

He snapped to a shrimp in overalls. “Frankie, make sure boxes eight through forty-one are in Area D.” He pointed. “Beside the beam. It’s marked on the floor.”

“Yes sir.”

“I will be in the office.” He led me to a glassed-in box on the edge of the busy area. I declined a seat on the dusty sofa and he plopped in a chair behind the metal desk. “So, what excuse are you offering?”

“Coppers. Did they raid the Blue Canary?”

He shook his head. “Blue Parrot. No heat on the joint.”

“I swear the two fellas at the front door were coppers. They whispered about catching smugglers and the place being ‘up’. The last thing I wanted was trouble. I ran out of there like Jim Thorpe. My daddy would tan my hide if he caught me in a speakeasy serving spirits.”

“How are you gonna make it up to me, Doll?” Bateman plastered the grin and I worried it might not be quite so easy to ditch him this time. I counted on Margo making quick work with the camera.

I removed my hat and flipped my hair. “How about somewhere nicer than the Blue Parrot?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“A jazz club. Music, dancing…”

“And booze. We gotta find a spot not afraid to quench the thirst of customers.”

“Sure thing, Eddie.”

“I’ll sniff out a speak.

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