Killer Deal (Stella Knox FBI Mystery Series Book 11) by Mary Stone

Author:Mary Stone [Stone, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mary Stone Publishing
Published: 2024-04-18T00:00:00+00:00

21

The hurricane glass looked like it should’ve held a milkshake. Or a bunch of flowers. Tall and curved with a short stem, a rounded bottom, and a flared lip. Its contents contained some kind of bright-red-to-white blended beverage. A wedge of pineapple had been rammed into the edge of the glass, next to a sugarcane-shaped straw.

Hagen held the drink up in front of him. “What did you say this thing was called?”

“That’s a Miami Vice.” David Archer lifted his own cocktail, an identical mix of strawberries, rum, coconut, and pineapple juice. “It’s something of a tradition around here.”

Helena Gauke clinked his glass with hers.

“You’re going to love it.”

Hagen didn’t believe her, but David had ordered three of them as soon as they’d walked into the cocktail bar on Flagler Street. He figured he ought to try the local delicacy, if only for the sake of manners. Dropping the pineapple slice onto the coaster, he already regretted his choice.

He put his lips to the straw and felt like a fool. Hard alcohol was supposed to be sipped and savored, not sucked up like a frozen milkshake from a diner. The blast of chilly sweetness struck him like a slap. Swallowing, he returned the glass to the table.

David grinned. “What do you think?”

“I think…it’s a shame Stella’s not here. She’d have loved this.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad your colleague couldn’t make it. Always good to get to know fellow agents from out of state. Nice she’s got family here, though.”

It was nice she had family here, and Hagen couldn’t blame Stella for wanting to see her mom while they were in town. If his mother or sisters had been here, he’d certainly have wanted to see them.

But Stella’s presence would’ve made the evening easier. The bar was trying too hard to look as though it had floated in from Hawaii. The plastic chairs were a mismatch of primary blues and reds and yellows that complemented only the fairy lights strung beneath the ceiling.

The sixties surf rock blasting from speakers that hung precariously from the bar’s wooden pillars was almost as loud as the shirts the men wore. Hagen felt like he’d been swallowed by a tropical garden filled with peonies and palm trees and screeching parrots.

Stella should have been there. Enjoying a night out with Mac. This place was wasted on him.

Or he should’ve been with Stella, enjoying a quiet meal in a good Japanese restaurant.

He called the server.

“Can I get a bourbon? Straight, no ice.”

The server gave a quick nod and disappeared. Relieved, Hagen pushed away his cocktail. “I think this is probably a little too sophisticated for my taste. Y’all can have mine.”

David pulled the glass closer and placed it between himself and Helena. “Sounds good to me.”

He jammed his straw through the crushed ice. Helena did the same, pulling her straw out of her own cocktail and ramming it into Hagen’s. The two took a long slurp, dragging the top of the drink a third of the way down the glass.

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