Limoncello Yellow (Franki Amato Mysteries) (23 page)

I tried to hurry as I did my eyeliner, but my hands were shaking. 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. And after all, Cleopatra was one of the greatest seductresses in history, was she not?

I hurried to my closet, pulled my dress off the hanger and stepped into it. I wrestled briefly with the zipper and then slipped on my black slingbacks. I didn
't even stop to look at my reflection in the mirror.

When I rushed into the living room, I saw the second most horrifying spectacle of the day: Glenda had propped one of her skinny white spider-veined legs on the chaise lounge and was doing her best to look sexy while extracting a card from her fuchsia garter belt.

"Here you go, sugar," she said to a grinning Bradley as Veronica looked on in what looked like a mix of astonishment and admiration. "My business card."

"
Thank you, Miss Glenda," he said as he took the business card and raised her hand to his lips.

"
If you ever need anything, darlin'," she purred, "and I
do
mean
anything
, you just call Miss Glenda."

The only thing I could think of to do in that moment was clear my throat. But thanks to my mold allergy, I sounded more like a cat hacking up a fur ball. The noise startled the unlikely trio, who turned simultaneously to look at me.

"Oh!" Veronica put her hand to her mouth and then headed toward the kitchen.

Glenda raised an eyebrow and then tossed back an entire glass of champagne.

So much for my grand entrance
, I thought as I felt what must have been a trickle of blood run down my right knee.

"
Jaclyn Smith with an Italian twist," Bradley said with a gleam in his eye.

"
What?" I didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

"
That's which Charlie's Angel you are," he replied.

"
Oh." Of course, I would have preferred to be Farrah, but at least he hadn't compared me to Bosley.

"
But…" Bradley began uncertainly.

But what?
I wondered.
Is it the blood? Or did I cough up some phlegm?
I felt around my mouth to check.

"
Didn't you get my message?" he asked.

"
No," I said, confused, while Veronica dabbed at my knee with a paper towel. "What message?" And then I remembered: I had turned off my phone after Bruno called, but I had forgotten to turn it back on.

"
Well, there's been a change of plans," he explained. "A client of the bank, Craig Burns, is having a crawdad boil, so I thought you might like to do that instead."

"
Oh." I tried desperately to think of anything I could change into that was both cute
and
clean.

Glenda, seizing upon the momentary lapse in conversation, sidled up to Bradley.
"The crawdad boil reminds me of a striptease I used to do—"

"
You know what?" I practically shouted over Glenda as I hurriedly walked toward the door. "If it's all right with you, Bradley, I'll just go like this."             

I simply could not allow her to subject him to one of her stripping stories, especially one that involved shellfish and boiling water.

"Sure." Bradley smiled as he followed me out of the apartment. "With you in that dress, I'll be the envy of every guy at the party."

I smiled
up at him. Despite his obsession with Charley's Angels, Bradley Hartmann was starting to grow on me.

* * *

"
Here we are." Bradley pulled in front of a stately Victorian home a half an hour later.

"
What a gorgeous house." I admired the long white columns that lined the exterior.

"
Yeah, Craig owns a major construction company here in New Orleans, so he's done quite well for himself."

"
It must be wonderful to sit on that veranda and gaze at the river." I sighed as I stared at the serene-looking body of water directly across the street.

"
The river?" He turned to look at me. "Oh, you mean Bayou St. John?"

I snapped my head in his direction.
"Bayou?"

"
Yes." He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"
No, no." I couldn't tell him about Mambo Odette's warning, or he would think I was a flake. "I just thought I knew my bodies of water better than that."

"
Well, if you're interested in bodies of water, Craig would be only too happy to tell you all about the history of this bayou. He's always going on about how this particular stretch in front of his house is where Marie Laveau used to practice some of her voodoo rituals."

"
What? Right here?" I looked back at the bayou. Now that I examined it more closely, that water was definitely murky.

"
So local legend would have it." He opened his car door. "One sec, I'll help you out of the car."

"
Thanks." I smiled and then turned to scrutinize the bayou. I wondered why Marie Laveau had chosen that particular spot for her rituals.

He helped me out of the car and
pulled me close. "Are you sure you're okay, Franki?"

"
I'm terrific." I smiled, returning his sexy gaze.
To hell with superstition
, I thought.

We walked up the driveway and entered the backyard through an iron gate. There were about twenty people or so standing around two long tables in the center of the yard. Each was covered in newspaper and had piles of crawfish that had been boiled with corn on the cob, large chunks of onion and potato and spice bags full of Cajun seasonings. On the opposite side of the yard was an outdoor bar manned by a bartender.

Bradley took me by the hand. "Let's head over to the bar. Then I'll introduce you to some of the guests."

As soon as we stepped off the concrete walkway into the grass, my three-inch heels began sinking into the soft earth. I sighed and began walking on the balls of my feet like I had seen high-heeled Italian women in
Rome do on the cobblestone streets. I imagined that I was taking the graceful strides of a runway model, but I suspected that I actually looked more like I was plodding along on a Stairmaster.

When we reached the bar, an elegant blonde with aristocratic features turned and
looked at Bradley, "Why, look what the cat dragged in!" She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.

Bradley
stiffened as he returned the woman's embrace. "I didn't realize you were in town, Sheilah."

"
Oh, you know how dull Boston society is during the winter months, darling," she replied, still standing way too close to him. "But then again, you haven't been home in so long. Maybe you've forgotten."

Darling?
Home?
What's going on here?
I took a step closer to Bradley to make it clear that we were together.

Sheilah turned to look at me and frowned.
"Who's this?"

"
This is Franki Amato," Bradley said. "She just moved here from Austin."

I couldn
't help but notice that he hadn't introduced me as his date, nor had he mentioned precisely who this woman was. I didn't need to be a PI to know these two had a history.

Just then the bartender looked at Bradley.
"What can I get you, sir?"

"
A white wine and a Sam Adams."

While Bradley was tipping the bartender, Sheilah looked me up and down and said under her breath,
"What an interesting outfit to wear to a crawdad boil."

I looked disparagingly at her white capri pants.
"Well, you know what they say. It's better to be overdressed than underdressed."

She scowled and opened her mouth to reply but quickly closed it when Bradley approached with my wine.

Bradley handed me the glass. "Franki, why don't we go find a quiet table somewhere?"

By now it was clear that he wanted
to keep me away from Sheilah, and I intended to find out why.

"
Brad the Bad!" a male voice boomed behind me.

I gave a start
, and my heels immediately sank deep into the dirt. I lurched backward, spilling my glass of wine on my chest.

"
Damsel in distress!" the man yelled and grabbed me from behind, awkwardly wrapping his arms around my upper chest as I fell into his soft belly.

"
Let me help you, Franki." Bradley took the glass from my hand and placed it on the bar.

Sheilah snorted.
"That's what happens when you wear high heels to a backyard party."

I shot her a look of death.
Whoever this woman was, she was no friend of mine.

"
I'll hold 'er steady, Brad, and you yank her feet out of the dirt," the man said.

"
Oh, I can manage," I protested, but Bradley was already kneeling down and helping me to step out of my shoes. I cringed as I remembered that I hadn't had time to do my toes before we left.

"
Franki, meet Craig," Bradley said from below as he pulled my shoes one by one from the earth.

"
You ready to suck some mudbug heads, Franki?" Craig bellowed, releasing me from his clutches.

"
I'm sorry, what?" I was certain that I'd misunderstood him.

"
That's what we call crawdads in these parts," Craig explained as Bradley handed my shoes to me.

"
Oh, Craig," Sheilah purred. "Franki's new to New Orleans. She probably doesn't know about the local traditions."

"
Actually, I've been dying to try mudbugs," I fibbed and quickly slipped my shoes back on my feet. As much as I wanted to keep them off, I didn't dare give Society Sheilah the opportunity to point out that my unpedigreed feet were unpedicured.

"
Let's show her how to eat a mudbug, Brad." Craig led me by the arm to the nearest table and picked up a tiny crawdad with his huge hand. "You grab the little guy by the torso, see, and you yank off his tail. Then you peel off the shell and eat the meat. Right after that, you suck the head to get the fatty brains and the juice. It's dee-licious!"

"
Sounds great," I fibbed.

"
Here, try it." He peeled the tail and then handed me the meat with his bare hands.

I hesitated before taking the meat and then, not wanting to look like a germaphobe, popped it into my mouth.
"It's good."

He handed me the crawdad
's head. "Okay now, pucker up and suck."

I reluctantly placed my lips around the crawdad head
, and as Craig, Bradley and the ever-present Sheilah looked on. I inhaled sharply.

"
What do you think, Franki?" Bradley asked.

"
It's delicious," I said, surprised. "I really like the spicy flavor."

"
I told you she'd like 'em!" Craig exclaimed. He gave my back a hearty slap. "I know a mudbug sucker when I see one!"

I jerked forward but managed to maintain my balance and smile, even though I was unsure whether to be flattered or upset by the remark, especially after I saw Sheilah smirking at me.

"I'll make us a couple of plates, Franki," Bradley said.

I suddenly felt a serious need for alcohol.
"Okay. I'm going to get another glass of wine. Can I get you anything?"

"
Sure, I'll take another beer."

"
Be right back." I smiled and then trudged over to the bar.

The bartender looked up from a glass he was drying with a towel.
"What can I get you?"

"
A glass of Pinot Grigio and a Sam Adams, please." I licked my lips, which were really starting to tingle from the spicy Cajun seasoning, and opened my handbag. I needed to touch up my lip gloss after sucking that crawdad head. I rummaged around in the bottom of my bag and felt the cylindrical-shaped object. But it wasn't lip gloss that I found. It was the bottle of Love Potion #9.

"
Here's the Sam Adams." The bartender placed the beer on the bar. "I need to run into the house to get another bottle of Pinot."

"
No problem." I stared at Bradley's open bottle of beer. I grasped the potion tightly in my hand and wondered,
Should I?
In that moment, I heard Sheilah's flirtatious laugh. I turned and felt a pang of jealousy when I saw her sitting right next to Bradley at a patio table.
I must
. I opened the potion and glanced from side to side. No one was looking, so I poured the entire bottle into his beer.
I mean, it's probably just water, right?
Then I slipped the empty vial back into my bag.