Diner Knock Out (A Rose Strickland Mystery Book 4) (5 page)

I knew he cared about me. He’d told me he loved me—in his own way—but we never actually went out on dates or anything. It was starting to get a little weird, like I was a secret or a mistress or something.

Last month, to show Sullivan I was serious about our relationship, I screwed up all my courage and gave him a key to my apartment. I’d never done that before. To me, it was a pretty serious step.

Sullivan, however, didn’t reciprocate.

I tried not to read too much into that. He lived outside Huntingford city limits, on an isolated property. His bodyguards also lived there, which was why I rarely stayed at his place. What girl wanted to sleep over at a criminal frat house? Plus, he had a complicated security system. It made sense, him not giving me a key in return. Still, it was the principle of the thing. Tit for tat, and all that.

“What about you, Ax? Are kids in your future?”

“I don’t know. I kind of like kids.”

Once back in the kitchen, I opened the door on the far side of the room. The one-car garage was empty, except for a weight bench in the corner. “The car’s gone.”

“Nothing in this house points to any shadiness,” Ax said. “I think the dude left of his own accord.”

“Why would he leave his steroids? If you were juicing up, wouldn’t you take them with you?”

“Unless he’s trying to get clean.”

A possibility. I nudged Ax aside with my elbow so that I could shut the door. True, nothing about this place screamed “Help! I’ve been kidnapped!” Still, something felt off. Andre would tell me to consider all the evidence. Half of the drawers and closet were empty—I assumed that was from Sofia leaving, but I couldn’t be sure until I checked with her. I didn’t see any suitcases packed away in a closet. Again, Sofia could have taken them. So, either Rob wasn’t missing at all—in which case, why hadn’t anyone heard from him in days?—or he’d been taken against his will. If that were true, where was his car?

The most compelling evidence of foul play was the steroids. Would he simply leave them behind? I wondered if they were addictive.

“Wherever he is, he took his phone, right?” Ax loped to the back door.

“Yeah. Kai said he couldn’t get ahold of Rob, and he tried several times.” I shone my light over the kitchen one more time, hitting on the supplements and powder. Ax said addicts hide their stash. “Let’s look inside all these bottles, just to be thorough.”

I checked the supplements and Ax shook the heavy jugs of protein powder. Then I remembered the recovery powder in the cabinet. I took down the first jug and screwed off the cap. Half the powder was gone. Sitting on top was a baggie of pills. “We have a winner.”

Ax rushed to my side. “Whoa.” He flashed his light on the pills and squinted. “There must be over two or three hundred in here.”

All different kinds. White oval, peach round, yellow squares. A cornucopia of chemicals. I shoved them into my purse.

“Your boy had some major substance issues, Rose.” After living with Stoner Joe for all these years, he should know.

We replaced the jug, and I eased open the back door, checking up and down the alley before giving Ax the go-ahead. “All clear.”

We tiptoed past dumpsters and empty cardboard boxes as we walked to the car. My brain raced the entire way. If Rob was doping, other fighters in the club had to be doing it too.

According to Sofia, Rob was cash poor. It seemed Will Carlucci was footing the bill for Rob’s room and board. Was Carlucci also providing drugs? Or was Rob selling them to pay for all those supplements?

I needed to find Carlucci and ask him some questions. Which would be difficult, given the delicate nature of the fight club. Also, if he didn’t clock in at the dealership, I’d have to find another way to contact him.

I drove Ax to his place. By the time I got home it was almost ten, and I was starving. As the ramen noodles cooked in the microwave, I withdrew the bag of pills and booted up my prehistoric laptop.

If Rob had been taken against his will, who would be the most likely culprit? Sofia’s brother, Franco, didn’t have any love for Rob. But Rob was a huge dude compared to Franco, so how would that work? And the missing Escalade kept tripping me up.

Then I wondered about Rob’s MMA rivals. Sofia said Rob usually won his fights. Would another fighter have a reason to get Rob out of the picture? Who was number two on the secret fight club roster?

Hopefully a visit to Buster Madison’s gym tomorrow might provide some answers. It was on my list of places to visit, and I really hoped Roxy would back me up. Kai said it was a rough neighborhood, and Roxy, despite her blue-haired, Shirley Temple appearance, could handle herself.

After eating, I did a little research on my bag of meds. Xanax, Nubain, Dilaudid, Oxy (both contin and codone varieties)—all heavy-duty opiates. Wherever Rob was, he had to be in some serious withdrawal.

I also Googled the names of the steroids I’d found. They were hardcore mass builders, with terrible side effects, including addiction. I was convinced Rob wouldn’t leave these drugs behind. If his intention was to get sober, surely he’d have told Sofia.

And speaking of his ex-fiancée, she had to know about Rob’s doping. He couldn’t gain that kind of bulk without help. I added her to my list of people to question. This time without Olivia crying or Franco snarling in the background. I’d call and see if she could meet with me one on one tomorrow.

Before getting ready for bed, I checked my phone. No messages—not from Roxy or Sullivan. I grabbed my pillow from the closet and got comfortable on the futon. But I wasn’t tired. My mind whirled around Rob Huggins. I had a lot of questions and very few answers.

I turned off the table lamp. Eventually my mind shut down, and I drifted off. I didn’t know how long I was out, but when something tickled my cheek, I awoke with a surprised gasp.

Sullivan crouched next to the futon and continued to stroke my face with his finger. “Hey.” His deep, smooth voice struck a chord inside me. He always smelled of citrus and sandalwood. A faint glow from the streetlights slipped through the blinds, giving just enough light to make out his silhouette. I was tempted to flip on the lamp, so that I could take in the whole Thomas Sullivan experience—gold eyes, a hard body, and that beautiful, masculine face. But I refrained. It was sort of hot, having him wake me up this way. When he was with me, any doubts I had about our relationship fell away. There was only here, only now.

“What are you doing?” Sleep had made my voice husky. “Did we have plans?”

He ran his finger over the seam of my lips. “No, but I didn’t want to go another day without seeing you.” My heart fluttered at his words.

I rolled over and faced him as he stood and began removing his suit. Then towering over me, he stared down in the darkness. “I missed you, Rose.”

“Me too.” It had only been three days, but it felt like weeks. I held back the blanket and he joined me on the futon, crawling beneath the covers and pressing his warm body against mine.

I ran a hand through his long hair. “So you decided to sneak in here and ravish me? Good call. Top ten on my fantasy list.”

He softly kissed me. “Hardly sneaking,” he said against my lips. “You gave me a key.” Rolling on top of me, he wedged his knee between my legs. We didn’t talk much after that.

Chapter 5

When my phone alarm buzzed at a quarter to five, Sullivan was gone. If he hadn’t left a faint trace of cologne on my pillow, I would have thought I’d dreamed last night’s encounter. In the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten to ask him about the underground fight club. My mind sort of shut down once he started with the nibbling.

I hopped out of bed, and while the coffee brewed, grabbed a quick shower. Fortunately, I wasn’t scheduled to work for Andre this weekend. Therefore, I could spend the day sleuthing my little heart out. After my shift at the diner, I planned on stopping by the dojo to ask Kai about Rob’s drug habit before cruising over to Buster Madison’s gym. I hoped to catch Sofia too. I had a lot of follow-up questions for her.

I threw on a pair of semi-clean jeans—I’d blown off laundry day last week—and a t-shirt, then zipped off to work. I entered the diner through the kitchen door to find Ma standing at the counter, getting all up in Ray’s business. She didn’t let the fact that he dwarfed her by a good two feet get in the way.

“You’ve got to work the butter into the biscuits, son. Here, let me show you.” She grabbed the tool out of his hand and elbowed his ribs until he stepped aside. Ray had been cooking the same way for thirty years, yet Ma always found something to bitch about.

“Good morning,” I said. “Did you make any headway with the Widower Metzer, Ma?”

She dropped the pastry cutter in the bowl and adjusted her glasses. “Not much. There were already four other ladies there, including Sally Dawkins. She showed up with a store-bought cake. Can you believe that?” She walked by me, yanking on the hem of her cartoon cat t-shirt. “She pulled the same crap when Wanda Smith died.”

I followed her into the dining room. “If commercially baked goods are a crime, somebody better lock me up.”

Ma waved me off. “That Sally’s on the prowl. She’s looking for a man with a healthy bank account and a bum ticker. She’s got big ol’ boobs and fake blond hair. Thinks she can sweep in and bamboozle all these men because she’s so much younger than the rest of us. First she went after Fred Smith. They nearly got married until he had a stroke and wound up in the nursing home. Old men can’t take her kind of exertion. Now she’s trying the same trick on Byron Metzer. Well, not this time, toots.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and stirred in a packet of sugar. “This time, Old Ma Ferguson is going to get her man. That Sally can take a hike.”

I snatched a blue apron and tied it around my waist. “Just how young is she?”

“Sixty-two. Anyway, I’m making him my famous chocolate lava cake, and I’ll drop it by this afternoon. That’ll get his attention.”

Sounded like Byron was either going to end up with diabetes or a prescription for Viagra. I didn’t envy him.

Ma wandered back into the kitchen. While I filled the salt shakers, Roxy strutted through the connecting door. Stiff black petticoats made her short, harlequin-patterned skirt extra flouncy. “Hey, Rose.” She shoved a piece of nicotine gum in her mouth and began to chomp. “Sorry I missed your call last night. I was out late. Sugar and I went to this rockabilly club downtown. She knows everyone.”

“Great. Glad you had fun.” Okay, so you want a confession? Here it is: I was jealous of Roxy’s relationship with Sugar. It was stupid and petty, but I couldn’t deny it any longer. I was getting pushed out by Sugar, and while I liked her—she was so kind and good-natured, it was impossible not to—I didn’t like this distance between Roxy and me.

I figured now was the perfect time to drop my news. Maybe Roxy would get as excited about a missing fighter as she did rockabilly clubs. We could partner up like we had in the past.

I leaned on the counter as she filled her ceramic cup with java. “Guess what? I have a mystery on my hands. ”

Her blond brows shot up. “Finally. How did you get Hardass to come around?”

“Andre doesn’t know. I’ve decided to do a little detecting on my own. Thought you might like to help.”

“Giving Hardass the finger. I like it.” A slow smile lit up her face. “You know I’m always down for a little detective work. Give me the deets.”

I filled her in on all my jaunts, including breaking into Rob’s condo. “I’m just not as fast at picking a lock as you are.”

“Duh, of course you’re not. I’ve had years of practice. Feels good though, doesn’t it? To get your hands on a case again?”

“Very. Running background checks makes me cranky. Anyway, I’m not convinced Rob Huggins disappeared on his own.”

“Maybe he owes money to his drug dealer.”

“That’s a possibility. I have a whole host of people to interview this afternoon. You in?”

The smile disappeared and an awkward silence descended. Roxy straightened the salt and pepper shakers on the counter. “Um, I sort of had plans with Sugar.”

“Oh. Sure.” I tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible, then turned away and began pulling down chairs from the nearest table.

“We’re shopping for her new photoshoot. She knows these great vintage boutiques.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine.” Keeping my head down, I headed to the pantry. What did I expect, that Roxy and I would be joined at the hip forever?
Yes.
Well, that wasn’t realistic.

I indulged in a little pity party before grabbing the jelly packets and taking them back into the dining room. By then, we had a few customers waiting at the door. Roxy flipped the sign and let them in.

Saturdays were always slammed, and we stayed busy without any lag time. No screaming kids today, which was awesome. Ma spent most of her morning making lava cake. Every time the connecting door opened, the delicious, rich smell of dark chocolate spilled out of the kitchen.

By closing time, Sugar showed up with her pinkish-red tresses twisted into an elaborate bun. Modeling a vintage cherry-print dress like she was on parade, she rolled her hips with every step. “Hey, Rose.” I waved as she sashayed toward Roxy.

While they chatted, I slipped off to the small office and called Sullivan. I figured he’d be home, but he didn’t pick up. Next, I tried Sofia’s parents’ house. Franco answered, shouting over Olivia’s cries, “What?”

“Can I speak to Sofia, please?”

“She’s at work.” Then he slammed down the receiver.

I scowled as I shoved the phone back in my pocket. That kid was starting to irritate me.

Roxy walked in and grabbed the broom. Her eyes landed on me before bouncing away. “Rose, are we okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” It was mostly true. 

Her shoulders lowered a notch. “Good. What’s your big plan for finding this MMA guy?”

Talking about Rob drained some of the tension out of me. “I need to check out the gym. Maybe talk to some of the other fighters.”

“You should talk to his trainer too.”

“Good idea.” I bumped her with my shoulder. “See, this is why I need you.”

“And I want to help. Maybe Sugar could tag along for a couple of hours. We could all go together. It’d be fun.”

“What do you mean? Like, help on the investigation?”

“Well, yeah. You know how awesome I am at detective work, maybe Sugar has a knack for it too.”

Doubtful. “Between your outfit and her body, no one will hear my questions.”

She laughed. “Or we’ll be so distracting they’ll answer honestly for a change.”

Roxy was my best friend, and I wanted her company. If I had to put up with Sugar for an afternoon, so be it. “Sounds good. My ultimate goal is to get into that fight club. I don’t even know how something like that works. Outside the movies, that is.”

“If you figure it out, let me know. I love it when men get all physical and start pounding the shit out of each other.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s primal. Hot.” She rubbed her thumb over the plastic broom handle. “Thanks. For letting Sugar come.”

“No prob.”

I grabbed the mop and bucket, following her out to the dining room. Together we cleaned in record time, while Sugar sat at the counter taking selfies.

Before leaving, I poked my head in the kitchen. “Good luck with the cake, Ma.”

“Don’t need luck, toots,” she said, keeping her back to me. “I’ve got skill. That Sally is going to wish she’d never heard of Byron Metzer.”

When Ma’s competitive streak took over, she laid waste to anyone standing in her path. Sally Dawkins had better watch out.

Roxy and I climbed into the front of my car, while Sugar wiggled her way into the back. I decided we should make tracks for the gym and I’d leave the dojo for later.

“Sugar and I only have a couple of hours,” Roxy said, pulling down the visor to check herself in the mirror. “We’ve got some serious shopping to do.”

“And I need to practice my routine.” Sugar tapped my shoulder. “You are coming, aren’t you, Rose?”

“Coming to what?”

Popping another piece of gum in her mouth, Roxy groaned. “I’ve been talking about it for two weeks. Sugar has a burlesque revue on Tuesday. Hottest ticket in town.”

I glanced over at Roxy and a horrible memory rushed at me. Julie Swanson. My best friend from middle school. She spent the summer after our freshman year in Europe. That fall, she returned with bigger boobs, a chic haircut, and a semi-sexual encounter with a French waiter under her belt. Suddenly, I wasn’t cool enough to hang with her anymore. I didn’t want Roxy to become my new Julie Swanson. “Of course I’ll come. Can’t wait.”

The gym was housed in a one-story, rundown building next to a tattoo parlor. Though Buster “Butterfly” Madison never made much of a name for himself on the professional circuit, he’d somehow managed to rub elbows with a few notables. In the hallway leading from the front door to the gym area, framed pictures of Buster covered the pitted concrete walls. In the oldest photos, he sported shaggy hair and stood next to a famous boxer even I recognized. There were various snaps of Buster grinning down at D-list TV actresses and two national sportscasters. As we advanced toward the inner double doors, I saw more recent photos of Buster. His gray hair was buzzed close to the scalp and his cauliflower ears jutted from either side of his head. He stood next to our illustrious mayor, a baseball pitcher, and—surprise, surprise—Will Carlucci.

I tapped the frame. “We have a link, ladies. Rob supposedly worked for Carlucci, owner of Carlucci Motors, and he recently showed up driving a tricked-out Escalade he couldn’t afford.”

Roxy flipped a curl over her shoulder. “Pretty swaggy for a fighter with no bank. So what does he really do for Carlucci?”

I raised a brow. “Win?”

Sugar threw her arms around our shoulders. “You guys are like Veronica Mars, for realsies.”

All righty. I twirled away and hustled toward the sounds of grunts and punches coming from the room beyond the peeling gray doors. I turned back to Roxy. “We’re going to split up. I’ll take Buster, you guys ask the other fighters about Rob. We need to know when the next fight is going to happen and where Rob got his drugs. But remember, be subtle.”

Roxy smacked her gum a few times. “I’m always subtle, Rose. Get a grip.”

Sugar brushed a hand over her dress and rubbed her glossy lips together. “Challenge delivered and accepted.” Oh, boy.

I pushed open both doors and took in my surroundings before moving forward. A caged ring stood in the middle of the floor, taking up most of the space. Along the perimeters, ten sweaty men jumped rope, three pounded weight bags, and four more wrestled on mats. Two men sparred inside the cage, and Buster Madison stood ringside, clutching the white towel draped around his nape. He was shorter than I expected.

As we walked further into the room, all movement stopped. The rhythmic tap of the rope ceased, and every eyeball locked on us. To be fair, most of the attention went to Roxy and Sugar.

I wished like crazy I’d taken the time to put on my black slacks and a dressier blouse. I hadn’t realized it until now, but the professional attire had become my armor, giving me more respectability than a hot pink t-shirt and faded jeans.

Buster’s pale eyes were watchful as I approached.

On my way, I nodded to a large man with tats covering his entire torso, then halted directly in front of Buster. “My name is Rose Strickland. I was wondering if I could speak to you for a minute.” I didn’t want to bring up Rob’s missing status in front of everyone. But if Buster didn’t cooperate, I’d have to.

“You selling Girl Scout cookies or something, sweetheart?” He glanced at a fighter to my left and snickered. “Sorry, honey, we don’t train girls here.”

Ah, a dinosaur from the days when women were broads and knew their place—either the bedroom or the kitchen. Nice. “If I ever take up fighting, I’ll keep that in mind. Mr. Madison, you and I need to talk.”

He rubbed his bulby nose and sniffed. “Nah, we don’t. Run along, sweetheart. You’re cute, but I don’t have time for you today.” Then he turned his back on me and began yelling commands at the fighters in the ring, who resumed throwing punches at each other.

Movement picked up around me. The rapid staccato of a speed bag, the solid
thwunk
of a takedown on the mat to my right. 

When I tapped Buster’s shoulder, he peered down and scowled. “I’m serious. Beat it, kid. Or I’ll kick you out myself.”

Beat it? Had I time warped into 1955? “I need to talk to you about Rob Huggins, and I’m not leaving until I do. In case you didn’t get the memo,
Butterfly
, he’s missing. And if I tell the police he was involved in an illegal fight club, they’ll be all kinds of interested. Don’t you think?”