Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Of course.” She gives me one more kiss.
I cross over to the front door to open it for her.
She grabs a jacket—an ivory wool overcoat that contrasts with her dark dress—and buttons it. She beams at me as she walks past me out the door to my apartment. “Always the gentleman.”
“If I ever don’t hold a door open for you, the Maddox Hathaway you know and love is dead and gone.”
“Perish the thought.”
I close the door to my apartment and walk down the exterior stairs that lead to the parking lot behind my shop. We approach my car, and again I open the door for Alissa.
We make our way to Aces.
For what may be the final time.
Chet looks up from his pink desk as we walk into the Aces foyer. “Mr. Hathaway. Miss Wonder. We were wondering where you ended up last night.”
Alissa wrinkles her forehead. “What do you mean?”
Chet tents his fingers. “You left rather early in the evening. You said you’d be right back, that you were just getting a breath of fresh air.” He raises an eyebrow—already back to his normal shade of snow white. “You never returned.”
“Plans change.” I hand him my driver’s license. “Alissa will be my guest tonight.”
“Of course. Wouldn’t expect anything to the contrary.” He leers at Alissa. “It would appear you’ve truly captured Mr. Hathaway’s attention, Miss Wonder.”
She swallows. “I suppose I have.”
Chet, as always, is walking the narrow valley between weird and creepy.
I never understood why Rouge hired him to be the bouncer of her club.
Surely there was a better candidate for the job than Chester Tabbit.
Wait.
Chester. Tabbit.
C. T.
Could it be…?
“Chet, what’s your middle name?”
Chet twists his lips. “That’s a bit of a personal question, Mr. Hathaway. Whyever would you be asking?”
“I think you know why,” I say.
Alissa grabs my arm. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“Just answer the damned question, Chet.”
His eyebrows bounce once, twice. “It’s Aristotle, Mr. Hathaway. My middle name is Aristotle.”
“Chester Aristotle Tabbit.” I reach into my wallet and pull out the folded-up riddle that led us to May’s head. I gesture to the three letters at the bottom of the note, the ones that were erased but left enough of a mark to be deciphered. “C.A.T. We thought this was an additional hint, that we were supposed to look for a statue of a cat or something, but it wasn’t.”
“It wasn’t?” Chet asks.
“No. It was a signature. You signed this riddle with your initials but then thought better of it. You erased it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Hathaway.”
“Yes you fucking do.” I push the piece of paper into his grinning mug. “You got this note to me. Probably when I pushed you up against the wall last weekend. You would have had pretty easy access to the inner pocket of my jacket.”
Chet cocks his head. “I suppose stranger things have happened.”
Alissa gasps. “Oh my God.” She reaches into her purse, pulls out the small manila envelope with the playing cards in it. “Did you put these in my purse as well? When I left it open in the hospital?”
“You fucking creep. You followed my girlfriend to the place where she works?”
Chet lifts a bony finger. “You seem to be confused. I don’t leave this desk under any circumstances during my shifts here at Aces. How could I possibly place a few playing cards into a woman’s purse?” He focuses his gaze on Alissa. “You came straight here that very day, and I was here.”
She points at him. “You don’t know which day that was. I didn’t say.”
“It’s my job to know what day it was, Miss Wonder.”
“No.” I place my hands on Chet’s pink desk, lean over him—no easy feat since he’s at least six foot seven. “You slipped up. First by writing your initials on this riddle, and then by revealing just now you knew which day the cards were left in Alissa’s purse. You’re on our side. You want Rouge to go down for what she’s done just as much as we do.” I dig into my pocket, fish out the ruby-encrusted key. “I bet you know where this goes, too.”
Chet widens his eyes. “Looks like you found your way down the river of tears, Mr. Hathaway.” He checks his watch. “Took you long enough, didn’t it? Your father has been dead for well over a decade.”
“Did he set this plan in motion with you?”
Chet darts his gaze around the room. “I have no interest in the schemes of a failed politician. With all due respect to the Hathaway legacy, of course.”
“Bullshit.” I slam my fists onto Chet’s tiny desk, making it shake. “He somehow got his hands on this key. You helped him do it. And then, when I was taking far too long to figure out his riddle, you slipped me a new one. You knew that if we knew what was going on with May—”