Heartache Motel: Three Interconnected Mystery Novellas (Henery Press Mystery Novellas) by Austin Terri L. & Reinhart Larissa & Walker LynDee

Author:Austin, Terri L. & Reinhart, Larissa & Walker, LynDee [Austin, Terri L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, mystery books, british mysteries, elvis, detective stories, amateur sleuth, cozy mystery, women sleuths, graceland, female sleuths, mystery series
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2013-12-10T00:00:00+00:00

After filling up on bacon cheeseburgers and purple cow milkshakes, Priscilla and I caught another taxi back to the Heartache. In the Suspicious Minds Bar, Todd and Byron occupied stools on one side of the black pleather bar, while the Colonel held court on the side holding the bottles. They whispered among longnecks until they caught sight of Priscilla and I traipsing across the beer and tequila stained carpet. Double takes ensued, which Priscilla took none too kindly.

“Honey, I’ve shed a ton of Swarovski crystals, my hair is unbalanced, and I lost a falsie,” said Priscilla. “Never set me alone with this child again. I’m going to the little girl’s room to freshen up.”

“Did you get in a fight at the art shop?” asked the Colonel. “You’re limping.”

“She’s still a little jacked up,” I said, “but we didn’t get in a fight and we never made it to the art store. However, it’s been an interesting morning. I saw parts of the country I hope never to see again. Except for the Dixie Queen, which I would visit every day if I lived here.”

The Colonel served me an eyeball roll I did not appreciate, so I turned toward the man who never found my statements eyeball-rolling worthy.

“Hey baby,” Todd said, once again forgetting I had a given name. “Did y’all have fun?”

I pondered that question for a few and waited for the Colonel to pour a drink for a customer. “I wouldn’t exactly call it fun. More like a fact-finding mission,” I whispered. “I learned that Little Jimmy knows Santa Elvis and the Angry Elf, from the Heartache’s Blue Christmas show. They like to hang out in real estate offices in dicey parts of town.”

“Cool,” said Todd and elbowed Byron. “Told you Cherry was good at figuring stuff out.”

“What do you think it means?” said Byron.

“I don’t trust Little Jimmy and we already know he’s involved in the underground poker scene. The elf and Santa Elvis might be, too. Or it’s one odd coincidence.”

I cut short our conversation as Priscilla wandered back into the bar with her phone in her hand.

She tucked the phone into her purse and scooted onto a bar stool next to us.

“I didn’t have such good luck today,” said Todd. “I lost a bunch of money at the tables in Arkansas.”

“What the hell, Todd,” I said. “I thought you were good at poker. How did you end up getting in a Vegas tournament when you can’t even beat these Memphis losers?”

“Watch your mouth now,” said Priscilla. “This ain’t no hayseed town like y’all are from.”

“How are we going to save Byron’s Christmas if Todd can’t win tonight? I spent my day wrapped around a drag queen in the back of a van when I could have been at an art museum. A guy named Little Jimmy stuck my best sketchpad in a paper shredder. I spent all my sketching money on taxis and the Dixie Queen. And now Byron’s kids’ Christmas memories will be of their momma taking the cast iron to their daddy.

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