Racing From Death: A Nikki Latrelle Mystery by Hill Sasscer

Author:Hill, Sasscer [Hill, Sasscer]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Wild Spirit Press
Published: 2015-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

I stormed the couch. "Thought you had a date with Lorna. Remember her?"

Diamonds flashed on the neck of the woman beneath Bobby. I glared at her. "Who's this one, Bobby? Your pet pedophile?"

The woman pushed at him and tried to sit up. Bobby rolled off her and faced me. People nearby stared. A woman in black satin tugged at her date's arm, nodded in our direction. Didn't want him to miss the show.

"For God's sake, Nikki, we were just partying. Doesn't mean anything."

Bobby's paramour turned on me. "You're an intrusive little bitch, aren't you? And so provincial. Did you come from a hog farm?"

"Sure," I said. "You were the prize pig."

I shifted my attention to the real problem. At least he had enough heart to look uncomfortable. "Want me to give your regards to Lorna?" I asked him.

Bobby scanned the room, then the hallway beyond. "Is she here?"

"Of course not. She's at the cottage waiting for a jerk-off drug pusher who’s going to break her heart. That would be you," I said.

Confusion filled his handsome face. "Drug pusher? What are you talking about?"

"Aren't you the one selling diet cocktails?"

"What?" Either he could really act or he didn't know. Miss Piggy fluffed her short blonde hair and casually adjusted the low bodice of her emerald green dress. She daggered a nasty look at me and stalked away.

Movement from the side of the room caught my eye. A tall figure scuttled toward a door built into the wood paneling. I caught a glimpse of a black jacket and light-colored hair before the man slipped through the opening.

I studied the dancers, people on the couches. Had Susan meant Bobby when she said her dealer was in the room? If not Bobby, who?

"Nikki, let me talk to Lorna first,” Bobby pleaded.

I left without answering. I had to get out of there. I looked for Susan, but she'd disappeared.

I hurried along the hall to the room with gilded mirrors. Light shone from the now open bathroom door. I slipped inside, locking myself in. Leaning over the green-and-black marble vanity, I stared at my wide eyes and flushed face in the mirror. In spite of everything, I grinned at the enticing swell of cleavage from my push-up bra and the way Carla's permanent lipstick gleamed on my mouth. I must have a pretty good buzz on. That George Dickel was mean stuff.

I used the gold-plated marble toilet, washed my hands, and noticed a second, mystery fixture squatting in the corner. What a peculiar looking toilet. Lidless and tankless, it had a faucet on one side. I turned the handle. A fountain of water shot up from a gold spigot inside the oval bowl. I started giggling.

Someone knocked on the door. "Hello, anyone in there?" A woman's voice.

I hurried to turn the fountain off, but cranked the handle backwards. Excess water splashed from the bowl and pooled onto the floor.

Knuckles rapped impatiently before I opened the door. The austere woman who'd gossiped with Katherine stood there tapping her foot.

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