Limoncello Yellow: A Private Investigator Comedy Mystery (Franki Amato Mysteries Book 1) by Traci Andrighetti

Author:Traci Andrighetti [Andrighetti, Traci]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781957200934
Publisher: Limoncello Press
Published: 2019-01-07T00:00:00+00:00

“Madonna santa,” I whispered as Veronica and I pulled up to the fourplex exactly forty-five minutes later thanks to the evening traffic.

She squeezed the steering wheel. “Holy mother of God, indeed.”

Not only was Bradley waiting in the driveway in his black BMW, but Glenda was leaning into his driver-side window in one of her lingerie loungewear ensembles—a black teddy and a fuchsia fur-lined robe with matching high-heeled slippers. She wasn’t holding her customary cigarette lighter. Instead, she had a bottle of champagne in one hand and two long-stemmed champagne flutes in the other. And she was clearly in the mood to entertain.

Veronica nudged me from my stone state. “You get into the house and get your LBD on ASAP. I’ll have Bradley help me walk Hercules and Napoleon around the neighborhood. That’ll give you some time to get ready and get Glenda out of the picture. She won’t be able to walk the dogs in those heels.”

I spun in the seat. “Are you kidding? That woman has been performing in six-inch platform stripper shoes since the age of sixteen. Not only could she walk the neighborhood in those heels, she could run a marathon and then compete in the freakin’ high jump.”

She chewed her lower lip. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

“You do that.” I threw open the car door and mad-dashed to my front door.

I wasted precious seconds fumbling with the lock, and then I pushed open the door and started to run toward my bedroom. Unfortunately, Napoleon was waiting to greet me on the other side of the door, so I took an impromptu leap to avoid stepping on him. My foot caught the tooth of the bear head on the bearskin rug, and I careened onto the floor, landing on both knees. I jumped up, limped to the bathroom, and threw off my clothes only to discover that both of my knees were bleeding.

“Mannaggia,” I cursed, rubbing an antibiotic on my wounds. I had about twenty minutes to get ready to avoid making us miss our dinner reservation at Le Bayou. There was no time to wash and dry my hair. Instead, I took a speed-of-light shower.

I started to apply my make-up and heard Veronica and Bradley returning with the dogs. To my dismay, I also heard Glenda’s unmistakable smoker’s-cough laugh. I willed Veronica to keep her in line, but I knew there was no use. Glenda was a force of nature, and she was more powerful and unpredictable than a hurricane.

My hands shook as I did my eyeliner. When I stood back from the mirror, I saw that my signature Sophia Loren-style cat eye looked more like that of Cleopatra. There was no time to fix it. “It’s okay, Franki,” I said to my horrified reflection, “Cleopatra was one of the greatest seductresses in history.”

I hurried to my closet, pulled my dress off the hanger, and stepped into it. I wrestled with the zipper and slipped on my black slingbacks. I didn’t stop to look in the mirror again for fear of what might look back at me.

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