Limoncello Yellow (Franki Amato Mysteries) by Traci Andrighetti Read Free Book Online Page A

that I wasn't having sex, and the cemetery constantly reminded me that I was going to die. Now I definitely needed a drink.
    I walked the short thirty or so steps to Thibodeaux 's and entered the bar. Veronica hadn't arrived yet, but Glenda was already there contemplating three empty tequila shot glasses and smoking a cigarette from a long, elegant Breakfast at Tiffany's -style cigarette holder. To complete her Audrey Hepburn look, she was wearing a black-sequined jumpsuit à la Cher and red platform stripper shoes à la Lady Gaga. I noticed that she wasn't wearing a boa tonight, probably because it would cover the skin she was trying to expose.
    " Hi, Glenda. Heeeey , this place is really sophisticated for a tavern," I said, surprised by the sumptuous brown leather furnishings, the stainless steel-covered bar and the warm glow of candlelight.
    Glenda, opting to dispense with the formalities, jumped right to the chase. "Did Miss Ronnie put you to work yet?" she asked, as though I'd been in New Orleans for weeks just lounging on her zebra print chaise lounge.
    " Yeah, we got a big case today." I sat down on a barstool to her right.
    " You lookin' for a runaway, or what?" Interesting that she would ask about a runaway , I thought. But then, she must have encountered quite a few of them in her line of work.
    " No, it's actually a murder case."
    Glenda took a drag off her cigarette. "It's not that strangled girl is it?"
              "Yes, it is." I was stunned by Glenda's insight.
    She exhaled a cloud of smoke directly into my face. "I heard about that. She worked at Prada, right?"
    " No, better." I coughed and waved the smoke away. "LaMarca."
    " Personally, I don't care for their designs," she said. "All that fabric they use on their evening dresses is frumpy and confining."
    Of course, LaMarca had the most sought-after gowns in all of fashion. But compared to the clothing Glenda wore, their evening dresses—even ones that were strapless, backless and slit all the way up to the pelvis—would inevitably seem like pilgrim apparel to her.
    The bartender walked up to me. "Can I get you something?"
    " Um—"
    " Another tequila shot," Glenda interrupted.
    " I'll have a glass of Prosecco, please."
    Veronica slid onto the barstool next to me. "Make that two, Phillip."
    I turned toward Veronica. "I didn't see you come in."
    " That's because you two ladies were deep in conversation." She smirked. "What were you talking about?"
    " We were talkin' about that girl who was strangled with the scarf," Glenda responded.
    Veronica looked at me quizzically. I shook my head to indicate that I hadn 't told Glenda any specifics.
    " The case reminds me of a striptease I used to do when I was working at Madame Moiselle's in the Quarter."
    " Oh?" I was instantly drawn in. I couldn't help it—there was something about Glenda that intrigued me.
    " It was an artistic rendering of a woman's transformation from victimization to self-empowerment."
    " Wow," I said, at a loss for words in the face of her burst of intellectualism. Veronica wasn't kidding when she said Glenda was smart.
    " I dressed entirely in sheer scarves. As I stripped away each one, it signified her metamorphosis. There was a top layer of black scarves, then underneath a layer of gray, beneath that a layer of white and then finally, a single pink scarf."
    " That's really beautiful, Glenda," I said, finding myself—to my complete and utter astonishment—moved by her description. 
    " What did the pink scarf represent?" Veronica asked, entranced. "The woman's soul?"
    Glenda looked taken aback. "No. Her vagina."
    " Ah." I was once again speechless—but this time for a different reason. Fortunately, Phillip the bartender chose that moment to return with our drinks.
    " So, the woman reclaimed her power by taking back her vagina from her victimizer," Veronica interpreted, still completely engrossed in the significance of the dance.
    Oh God , I thought, taking a sip of the drink