Nothing on Scarlet was as high up as it used to be, but more power to her. I hung her coat up in the closet while she got comfortable on the couch. She scooted all the way into the corner and her legs stuck straight out like a little kid’s.
“I saw a couch like this once in a porno,” she said. “It was an orgy couch. You have orgies here?”
“Not that I know of,” I said, scrunching my nose in disgust.
“Just as well,” she said, clicking her tongue. “I never enjoyed them much. I’m one of those women who likes to be the center of attention.”
“No kidding,” I said.
“I’ve decided I like being stateside,” she said. “And it’s important at my age to only do things you like. They don’t even put ice in their sodas on the ship, and they changed their policy on topless sunbathing. I can’t have tan lines. I bought a backless gown at Ralph Lauren to wear in the spring. If this blasted weather ever clears up.”
“I’m going to put on a pot of tea,” I said, so I didn’t have to think about Scarlet’s tan lines. “Do you want some?”
“No, but I’ll take a mimosa,” she said.
“We’re fresh out of mimosas,” I told her.
“I guess I’m still used to the cruise ship. I like my routine. What have you got that’s the next best thing?
“I’ve got coffee and Bailey’s or straight-up whiskey.”
“I’ll take the whiskey,” she said. “It’ll keep me warm when we go out later.”
I felt a headache brewing right between my eyes. I hadn’t planned on spending the day driving Scarlet to do errands. Especially not when I couldn’t have a glass of wine at the end of the day.
“What are your plans today?” I asked. “Do you need a ride to your hotel?”
“I’ve got a couple of errands,” she said. “But your guest room will be fine as far as accommodations. Do you have room service?”
“Guest room?” I asked, fear snaking down my spine. Nick was going to divorce me. Ours would be the shortest marriage on the planet.
“Are you daft, girl?” she asked. “Of course your guest room. I’m not going to bunk with you and Detective Hot Buns. I need my beauty rest, and newlyweds are far too active. I’ve been married five times, so I know about such things.”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
“I can’t stay with your mother,” she said. “I’d kill her, and I’m too old to go to prison. They don’t let you kill people now like they used to. Social justice or some shit like that. My luggage will be delivered tomorrow.”
“Umm, I…” I couldn’t think of a thing to say. And I knew there was no use arguing. “I thought you always stayed at the Ballastone when you come to Savannah?”
“Well, there was a small hitch with that,” she said. “Ever since I became notorious and wanted for the murder of Big Mo, I’ve been blacklisted at the Ballastone.”
“That doesn’t seem right,” I said, pouring the whiskey over ice and then handing her the glass.
“Semantics,” she said. “It could’ve been because the last time I brought Big Mo back to my room for a night of passion the walls and furniture incurred some damage. But I paid for it, so I don’t see what the big deal is.”
Big Mo had been a Savannah crime lord for as long as I could remember, and the police had never had enough evidence to charge him with anything. He tried to kill me, but I wouldn’t have been able to prove it. A couple of months ago, someone took matters into their own hands and threw a Molotov cocktail through Mo’s window and set him on fire.
No one had said the words out loud per se, but I was almost a hundred percent positive the person responsible was Scarlet. The justice system worked too slow to her way of thinking, and she wasn’t one to let anyone hurt her family. It was probably best she moved around a lot.
“You know what I’d like?” she asked.
My tea finished steeping and I added milk and honey. “What’s that?”
“I’d like some cake to go with my whiskey. That’s just the thing on a morning like this.”
Now that she mentioned it, I wouldn’t turn down cake. “I’m going to shower, and I’ll be back down in twenty,” I said, carrying my tea with me to the stairs.
“Take your time,” she said. “You look terrible. You must be having a girl.”
“Why would you say that?” I asked.
“Because girls suck the beauty right out of you,” she said.
“That’s an old wives’ tale.”
She raised her brow and slurped her whiskey. “Not from where I’m standing.”
Chapter Two
“I’m looking pretty hot today,” Scarlet said, twirling in front of the full-length mirror in the mudroom. “We need a hot car to complement me.” She looked me up and down and shook her head.
“I don’t want to ride in that van of yours,” she said. “That’s a bad luck van. It’s got Ugly Mo cooties. Ever since you had that van it keeps getting vandalized and you got kidnapped and held at gunpoint.”
“Not to mention you wrecked my bathroom,” I said.
“That too,” she said, nodding. “But that was on account of how I had too many grits at breakfast. Grits keep you real regular.”
“I’ll remember that,” I said. “I guess we can take the Audi today. I’m going to put the van up for sale anyway since I’ve retired from the PI life.”
“Why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” she asked.
“I’m pregnant,” I said. “And I promised Nick I wouldn’t do anything dangerous.”
She hmmphed and reapplied her bright red lipstick. “All I’m saying is that a little pregnancy wouldn’t have stopped the women from my generation. Sometimes you get knocked up. That doesn’t mean you don’t sleep with the next Nazi to gain information. And it doesn’t mean you can’t stick your knife right in that soft spot at the hollow of the throat.”
I led her out of the mudroom and under the attached portico that connected the garage. The Audi was parked in the first slot, and Scarlet was right. Sometimes you needed a sexy car to get cake.
The ride into Savannah was long and tedious between the traffic and the weather, and Scarlet slept most of the way, resting her head on the collar of her coat and snoring so loud I thought about putting her in the trunk.
The good news was the streets of historic Savannah weren’t crowded with tourists. I dropped Aunt Scarlet off in front of Krazy Cakes and made sure she got in all right before I went to find parking.
“Thank you, Jesus,” I said, finding a spot right on Reynolds Square across from the bakery.
East Congress Street looked like many of the other streets in downtown Savannah. The architecture was ornate and beautiful, and the attached buildings were being carefully restored one by one, with businesses and apartments put in to boost the economy. There were several newly renovated shops along the strip across from Reynolds Square, and the cake shop was one of them.