Pistols & Pies (Sweet Bites Book 2) (Sweet Bites Mysteries) by Heather Justesen Read Free Book Online Page B

contrast, the kitchen shined—I’d checked before I ever ate there.
    An old Garth Brooks tune blared over the speakers as Lenny and I joined Honey and George at the corner booth they’d staked out near the pool tables while we waited for a game to end. George’s dark hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it all afternoon—which, knowing him, he probably had. Honey’s kinky black locks were done in cornrows and pulled back from her face, which was set off by enormous gold hoop earrings. She’d never really cared what was in style when it came to jewelry; she wore what she liked and made it look fabulous.
    “Hey, looks like you beat us,” I said when we reached the table. I made introductions, glad that Lenny’s T-shirt and jeans were infinitely more presentable this time than they’d been that morning, though one of his tats rested low enough on his shoulder to peek out of one sleeve whenever he moved his arm.
    We ordered food and a round of drinks—mine was a Coke. While we ate, the music changed from bluegrass to old country western, to the newer pop sounds of Taylor Swift.
    “Not too choosy about their tunes here, are they?” Lenny asked when he and George had exhausted conversation about the grocery store.
    “Sure they are,” Honey said loudly to be heard over the noise. “As long as it’s got twang, they’re good to go.”
    The pool table nearest to us emptied and we grabbed it while we had the chance.
    “Anyone care to wager?” Lenny asked.
    “No, you shark, we don’t need to lose all our money to you.” I laughed when he scowled at me. “I know too many of your secrets, and you might fool a few people into playing you, but it’s a small town. Word gets around pretty quick.”
    Again his expression said he was regretting something, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t about the game. Did he wish he hadn’t come here? Before I could ask him, though, he grabbed a cue. “That’s okay; a friendly game is almost as good as one where I walk away with your money.”
    He took it easy on us, giving everyone a chance for at least one turn before clearing the table. We played teams, switching pairs from game to game. His team always won.
    As he ran the table for the third time, I caught the conversation from the table beside us. I turned their way when Eric Hogan’s name came up.
    “You know that Hogan prob’ly pestered someone ‘til they couldn’t help but kill him to get him to shet up.” It was the contractor from the fitness center, Marty Grizzle. “Man was always buzzin’ around the building site, always pokin’ his nose in where it don’t belong.” He pushed his Stetson further back on his head and lined up the shot.
    “He made an awful lot of enemies,” a skinny man in dirty jeans and a holey plaid shirt agreed. I studied him for a long moment out of the corner of my eye, but couldn’t place him. He didn’t come into my shop, that was for sure.
    “Man like him’s bound to make enemies.” Marty hit the ball, which only glanced off the number five. He swore and stood out of the way while the other guy stepped in. “Look at that—first he makes my life an ever-livin’ nightmare while I build that fitness center, now he’s costing me shots. A bullet to the head’s too easy a death for him, if you ask me.”
    Another man approached the table and the conversation changed gears as his companion started sinking balls in quick succession. I turned back to see Lenny drop the eight ball and looked at the rest of my group. No one else had heard that? I asked my friends, “You guys about done? I thought maybe we could finish off the cheesecake in the display case back at the shop.”
    “You know I never turn down cheesecake,” Honey said.
    Lenny looked me up and down. “So how are you staying so skinny?”
    “I don’t eat that many desserts,” I said, feeling self-conscious. Skinny was an extremely flattering description of my curvy body—and I use the word