Dead Lift by Rachel Brady Read Free Book Online Page B

skate park,” I said.
    The older one nodded. Jeff put the car in reverse.
    “Remember what I said about the cancer sticks,” I told him.
    He nodded, a gesture I knew was only meant to placate. We watched them head for the road and Jeannie sidled up next to me.
    “New computers for all of them?” she asked.
    I shook my head. “I think the machines were taken with the search warrant. Sounds like the kids weren’t here when Claire was served and that Grandma’s covering up for her. I’m glad about that.”
    “Why’d they take the computers? Doesn’t sound like Claire uses them much.”
    A rain drop fell on my arm, then cheek. “I’d like to know that too.”

Chapter Eight
    Jeannie and I stuck to our half-hearted surveillance plan and left, knowing there’d be time to finish searching the house later. We’d driven separately, so I took a few minutes to find the neighborhood skate park Chase had mentioned. The boys were there like they’d said, practicing jumps and tricks. Claire’s younger son sat with another park visitor, a strapping blond guy about my age, and seemed to be indicating something of interest on the underside of his skateboard. Satisfied they were staying out of trouble, at least for the moment, I cruised past on my way to the club.
    I wanted to meet Diana’s daughter, the waxer. Jeannie wanted to touch up her roots and schmooze with Houston’s elite. I found a parking spot about a block away from Tone Zone and grabbed an umbrella out of the back seat of my car.
    “You look better this time.” At the gym’s door, Jeannie stole another glance at my sleeveless blouse and dress slacks. “But I wish you’d have borrowed an outfit from Claire. I can’t believe you passed up a chance to finally wear some
labels
.”
    I ignored her and held the door. She squeezed passed me and flashed her membership card at the desk attendant in an entitled sort of way. I stayed behind, half inside, half out, and shook water from my umbrella before stowing it in an ornate wrought iron rack.
    “Meet you in the lounge later.” She splintered off toward the salon.
    I followed signs to the waxing parlor. Two private rooms opened off a dimly lit waiting area, vacant except for me. Serene candles glowed on each of four cherry end tables. I eased into a microfiber loveseat and inspected the label on the nearest candle, which was Island Guava.
    A Dallas-cheerleaders-type girl in tight white jeans and a low-cut, midriff-bearing top emerged to greet me. Even her glittery, strappy high-heels were sexy.
    “Emily?” Her exaggerated, glossy smile revealed suspiciously glorious teeth. “I’m Megan.” She held out a dainty, manicured hand and I took it. She couldn’t have been out of college.
    I tried hard not to stare. “Aren’t you the cutest thing.”
    I kept noticing more. Her smooth tan extended so low into her cleavage that I had to look away. She’d parted her highlighted brunette hair with a stylish zig-zag, and several shades of silver eye shadow set off deep brown eyes. Megan was unequivocally striking, like her mother.
    “Follow me.” She headed toward the room from which she’d appeared. Inside, a salon table was positioned centrally. It was fitted with a satin sheet in a rich shade of brown that seemed to reinforce a slight aroma of cinnamon in the room. A series of what appeared to be crockpots full of various colors of wax waited nearby. I didn’t like the looks of them at all.
    Megan consulted a clipboard near her wax pots and slipped on a pair of latex gloves. “Looks like we’re doing your bikini line.”
    I’d have been less shocked if she’d said we’d be shaving my head.
    She presented a terry-cloth skirt with a slit cut to the waist. “Want a smock?”
    I tried not to laugh. When Jeannie mentioned waxing, I’d assumed she’d meant my legs.
    I exhaled. “Funny story.”
    She smiled. “First time?”
    I nodded. “Yes. And no. I mean—”
    She giggled.
    “My friend set this up,”