Franki Amato Mysteries Box Set by Traci Andrighetti

Author:Traci Andrighetti [Andrighetti, Traci]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Limoncello Press
Published: 2019-05-26T22:00:00+00:00

I reclined on the chaise lounge in my living room and counted the shiny gold fleurs-de-lis on my fuzzy, blood-red wallpaper while I waited for Adam to answer the phone. It was the second time I'd tried to call since leaving Oleander Place an hour and a half before, but not even his voice mail was responding. I pressed end and tossed my phone to my side, narrowly missing Napoleon.

He leapt to the floor as though I'd thrown it straight at him.

"Napoleon, I did not try to hit you with my phone," I chided. "I'm the one who just came home early to let you out, remember?"

He shot me a "whatever" look before settling on the bearskin rug and resting his chin on his front paws. That was his pensive pose.

"So that's the thanks I get? For the record, I should be on my way to Lickalicious Lips right now trying to locate a possible lip gloss poisoner."

Napoleon sighed through his nose.

"And you're not the only one who feels like they're under attack, you know. A psycho-killer sent me a death threat yesterday—okay, so they didn't threaten to kill me, but that's beside the point. Meanwhile, Nonna is threatening to send invitations to my non-engagement to Bradley, and Pauline is threatening to tell him about it so she can steal him from me."

Wait. Bradley! I bolted upright. Was tonight the night we were having dinner?

I sent a quick text to his cell and then stared at my jagged fingernails and hairy legs. With Pauline lurking in the periphery, I had to go big—not broken and bushy—or go home.

My text tone sounded. Late meeting. See you at Antoine's in the Quarter at 7? xoxo, B

I looked at the time—five o'clock. I fired off a confirmation reply and fled to my bathroom in a panic.

Two hours and a flurry of plucking, polishing, painting, preening, and perfuming later, I exited my apartment in a fitted (read unintentionally tight) red dress and turned to lock the front door.

"Va-va-voom!" Glenda shouted from behind me. "That's some get-up you've got on there, Miss Franki."

I turned and saw Glenda and Veronica walking up the sidewalk. "Speaking of get-ups," I began, noticing that they were both wearing yellow, "you two look like twins." Albeit in a Danny DeVito-Arnold Schwarzenegger way.

Veronica was beaming with a post-shopping-spree glow. "To celebrate spring, we bought matching sundresses."

"Um, yeah," I said as I tried but failed to see the similarities between the two dresses beyond their color. Veronica's was a sleeveless Diane von Fürstenberg, while Glenda's was more like a crotchless Dita Von Teese. And there was no way to compare the plunging neckline of Glenda's dress to Veronica's V-neck, unless the v stood for "vagina."

"How did it go today?" Veronica asked.

"Well, I'm pretty sure Scarlett and Adam are avoiding me, but I finally managed to question Troy, the historian tour guide."

Upon hearing the word historian, Glenda yawned in mock boredom and began admiring the live yellow roses inside the clear plastic soles of her stripper shoes.

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