Read Online One O'Clock Hustle: An Inspector Rebecca Mayfield Mystery (Rebecca Mayfield Mysteries Book 1) by Joanne Pence - Free Book Online
Authors: Joanne Pence
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considered him a prime candidate.
But then she noticed that Richie was looking at her. She met his gaze and he rolled his eyes, as if to say he knew exactly what Carolina was up to.
Rebecca grinned slightly, then nodded. She coughed, then coughed again.
Carolina peeled herself off Richie like skin from a banana, starting at the head and only slowly easing her body away from his one centimeter at a time. “Oh, excuse me,” she said, eying Rebecca. Despite her sobs, her eyes were dry. No running mascara for her. “How rude of me.” She stuck out her hand. “Carolina Fontana.”
Despite the Italian-sounding surname, her first name was pronounced like the southern states: Car-o- lye -na, as in 'nothing could be finah.' Since Richie held Rebecca's right hand, she had to grasp Carolina's with her left and gave a weak squeeze that she hoped appeared to be comforting. “I'm—”
“Becky Jones,” Richie said quickly. “A friend.”
Carolina's eyes zeroed in like a radar gun on their clasped hands with the sweater over them. “Please sit down.” Carolina gestured towards the sofa. She stood with her back ramrod straight, shoulders back, chest out.
Rebecca usually prided herself on having a good, all natural figure. Her proportions were more than adequate and her four-times a week gym workouts had left her well-toned, firm, and shapely in a—not to be too smug about it—attractive way. Still, around Carolina Fontana she felt like a flat-chested teenager. Especially since she still wore last night's jeans and heavy turtleneck. She wondered if Carolina wondered why Richie wore dress slacks but no jacket, and a wrinkled white shirt.
“Would you two like a drink?” Carolina asked.
“Yes,” Richie replied.
“No,” Rebecca answered at the same time.
Carolina looked confused. “Would you like beer, Richie? Or maybe a high ball?” Then, to Rebecca, “I've got Diet Coke and 7-Up, too.”
Richie asked for a beer, Rebecca a Coke as Richie headed for a chair, Rebecca the sofa.
He realized his mistake and stepped to the sofa beside her. They stood, side-by-side, facing it.
Glaring at each other, Rebecca stepped backward, Richie forward, and they made a half-circle. Both ended up with their backs to the sofa, and then they sat.
Carolina watched with mouth agape. “Jeez, you two are sure a couple of lovebirds. Don't want to let go even for a minute.”
“Yeah, that's us,” Richie said with a devilish smirk as he pressed his shoulder against Rebecca's, his face close to hers, and his voice a low rumble. “Lovebirds.”
“Turkey!” Rebecca whispered to him as Carolina went to the bar across the room.
“Mud hen!”
“Capon!”
There was that smirk again, and one eyebrow lifted. “Don't count on it.”
She abruptly shut her mouth as Carolina approached with their drinks, still in bottles and cans. She put a can opener on the table. Rebecca and Richie's eyes met. Who knew it took two hands to open a beer bottle or soda can? Rebecca held the containers while Richie opened them. Carolina observed them in wide-eyed amazement.
An open can of Diet Pepsi was on a lamp table and she sat in the chair beside it.
“So Richie, you wanted to see me about something?” Carolina murmured as she kept perusing Rebecca from head to toe and back again with a bewildered what-can-he-possibly-see-in-her question in her eyes.
Rebecca would have loved to wipe that smugly stupid look off Carolina's face, but she kept her mouth shut, knowing that was the best way to learn something, which was, after all, why she was here.
Richie gulped down some beer, then nodded. “All I can figure is Danny must be involved in this thing—whatever it is. I'm hoping he might have said something to you. Was he having trouble with anyone? You women have a sixth sense about your men, especially if he was seeing another woman. Did you get any feeling like that about Danny?”
“God, Richie, I wish I could help you, but everybody loved
But then she noticed that Richie was looking at her. She met his gaze and he rolled his eyes, as if to say he knew exactly what Carolina was up to.
Rebecca grinned slightly, then nodded. She coughed, then coughed again.
Carolina peeled herself off Richie like skin from a banana, starting at the head and only slowly easing her body away from his one centimeter at a time. “Oh, excuse me,” she said, eying Rebecca. Despite her sobs, her eyes were dry. No running mascara for her. “How rude of me.” She stuck out her hand. “Carolina Fontana.”
Despite the Italian-sounding surname, her first name was pronounced like the southern states: Car-o- lye -na, as in 'nothing could be finah.' Since Richie held Rebecca's right hand, she had to grasp Carolina's with her left and gave a weak squeeze that she hoped appeared to be comforting. “I'm—”
“Becky Jones,” Richie said quickly. “A friend.”
Carolina's eyes zeroed in like a radar gun on their clasped hands with the sweater over them. “Please sit down.” Carolina gestured towards the sofa. She stood with her back ramrod straight, shoulders back, chest out.
Rebecca usually prided herself on having a good, all natural figure. Her proportions were more than adequate and her four-times a week gym workouts had left her well-toned, firm, and shapely in a—not to be too smug about it—attractive way. Still, around Carolina Fontana she felt like a flat-chested teenager. Especially since she still wore last night's jeans and heavy turtleneck. She wondered if Carolina wondered why Richie wore dress slacks but no jacket, and a wrinkled white shirt.
“Would you two like a drink?” Carolina asked.
“Yes,” Richie replied.
“No,” Rebecca answered at the same time.
Carolina looked confused. “Would you like beer, Richie? Or maybe a high ball?” Then, to Rebecca, “I've got Diet Coke and 7-Up, too.”
Richie asked for a beer, Rebecca a Coke as Richie headed for a chair, Rebecca the sofa.
He realized his mistake and stepped to the sofa beside her. They stood, side-by-side, facing it.
Glaring at each other, Rebecca stepped backward, Richie forward, and they made a half-circle. Both ended up with their backs to the sofa, and then they sat.
Carolina watched with mouth agape. “Jeez, you two are sure a couple of lovebirds. Don't want to let go even for a minute.”
“Yeah, that's us,” Richie said with a devilish smirk as he pressed his shoulder against Rebecca's, his face close to hers, and his voice a low rumble. “Lovebirds.”
“Turkey!” Rebecca whispered to him as Carolina went to the bar across the room.
“Mud hen!”
“Capon!”
There was that smirk again, and one eyebrow lifted. “Don't count on it.”
She abruptly shut her mouth as Carolina approached with their drinks, still in bottles and cans. She put a can opener on the table. Rebecca and Richie's eyes met. Who knew it took two hands to open a beer bottle or soda can? Rebecca held the containers while Richie opened them. Carolina observed them in wide-eyed amazement.
An open can of Diet Pepsi was on a lamp table and she sat in the chair beside it.
“So Richie, you wanted to see me about something?” Carolina murmured as she kept perusing Rebecca from head to toe and back again with a bewildered what-can-he-possibly-see-in-her question in her eyes.
Rebecca would have loved to wipe that smugly stupid look off Carolina's face, but she kept her mouth shut, knowing that was the best way to learn something, which was, after all, why she was here.
Richie gulped down some beer, then nodded. “All I can figure is Danny must be involved in this thing—whatever it is. I'm hoping he might have said something to you. Was he having trouble with anyone? You women have a sixth sense about your men, especially if he was seeing another woman. Did you get any feeling like that about Danny?”
“God, Richie, I wish I could help you, but everybody loved
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