Lucky Catch by Deborah Coonts Read Free Book Online Page A

bit before wading into the deep end again—not that prudence was one of my strong suits or anything.
    I parked my butt on the corner of her old desk and reached for the pile of messages in my in-box. “Why are you sitting out here and not in your office?”
    She leveled her gaze at me over the top of her cheaters. “Don’t you want to know what the problem is?”
    “Does it have anything to do with a homicide on our back lot?”
    That stopped her. “No.”
    “Then not really.” As I flipped through the notes, I pretended to be consumed. Like working a poker hand, I pulled a couple that I wanted to keep, then tossed the others.
    “What homicide?”
    I waved her question away. “Romeo’s on it.”
    “I see,” Miss P. said, although it was clear she didn’t, which made me smile since I did the same thing all the time.
    So I segued back to the original topic. “The way I figure it, you’ll tell me what the problem is when you’re ready. Until then, I’m happy with the whole ignorance-is-bliss thing.”
    “A kinder and gentler Lucky? Patience is a virtue and all of that?” Miss P. raised an eyebrow and fought a smile. “There wasn’t really a homicide on property, was there?”
    “Apparently.” With a forefinger, I nudged my golden cockroach paperweight back from the edge of the desk. It had been a gift from the employees after dealing with a guest and his pests, and I was sorta attached to it. “What is this doing out here?”
    “I have no idea.” Miss P. looked like she was losing patience with my lack of interest in her problem—the one she desperately wanted to make mine. “I’ll put it back on your desk.”
    I nodded, not really concerned. Everyone knew, if they took that paperweight I would consider it a capital crime. “For the record, I’m cultivating the talents necessary to move further up the corporate ladder.”
    “Passing the buck?”
    “Please,” I said, taking mock offense. “Delegating. Sloth, avarice, and a taste for three-martini lunches are next.” I shot her a grin. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you—the delegating thing is still a work-in-progress, although I’m warming to it. I just tossed a thousand live turkeys into Mona’s lap. Well, not just, but a few hours ago.”
    A smile bloomed across her face. “Oh, I’d pay good money for a ticket to that!”
    “To be honest, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself.” I folded my messages and stuffed them in the tiny pocket in my suit. Versace wasn’t known for his pockets. “Mother’s driving me nuts with talk of testing the waters for a run at a seat on the Paradise Town Advisory Board. Now she’s waxing poetic about the girls doing a bake sale to raise money for a possible campaign. How much can she possibly hope to raise with a bake sale?”
    Miss P. looked at me over the top of her cheaters. “Well, when you’re talking about a bunch of hookers from Pahrump selling their . . . buns . . . in the parking lot at Smokin’ Joe’s XXX Video Emporium, I’d say the sky’s the limit.”
    My heart sank. She was right. If Mona took full rein, the bake sale would turn into a national news event. The same thing happened when she’d tried to auction off a young woman’s virginity. She should’ve learned her lesson, but Mona wasn’t big on lessons.
    Mona had been my cross to bear, but recently she married my father, thereby terminating my illegitimacy and simplifying my life . . . in theory. Technically, my father, who is also my boss and the owner of the Babylon, was my mother’s keeper now that she had given up her eponymous whorehouse in Pahrump, my childhood home, and moved into the Babylon. But unlike his daughter, my father was good at delegating. And when Mona made a mess, she still looked to me to show up with a broom.
    But she was on her own with the turkeys. Proving once again I was more like my father than I thought. Maybe one day I’d believe it.
    So, I shelved the bake sale—today’s worry