Drop Dead Sexy

“Bite me,” I muttered under my breath.

“With pleasure,” he replied.

I shot him a murderous glare as Barry led us across the lobby and over to the bar. “Why don’t you wait here for Patty?”

Catcher nodded. “Sure.”

“And please have a drink on the house.”

Catcher smiled. “Thank you for the hospitality, but I’m afraid I have to refuse since I’m on the clock.”

I nodded in agreement. “But yes, thank you.”

The phone he was holding in his hand rang. “Excuse me,” he said before answering it. He grimaced. “Okay. I’ll be right there.” He hung up and gave us an apologetic look. “There’s something I have to take care of in my office. But I’ll be back just as soon as I can to check on Patty.”

“We appreciate your help,” Catcher replied before shaking Barry’s hand again.

After he shook my hand, Barry headed barefoot and bare-assed down the plush carpeting to his office. While Catcher quickly hopped up on one of the bar stools, I wrinkled my nose. “What is it?”

“I have two words for you: slug trail.”

Catcher snickered. “I’m pretty sure they clean and disinfect the fabric.”

Although he made a good point, I still took one of the linen napkins off the bar and draped it across the top of the stool. Once I was seated, I looked up to find the bartender staring at me. While he didn’t look like he was judging me, I still managed to blurt, “Sorry. I’m just a bit of an OCD clean freak.”

“Actually, we have a towel rule here at Bare Haven.”

“A towel rule?” Catcher questioned.

“You have to place one down before you sit.”

“Ah, I see,” I murmured.

“Would you like something to drink?” the bartender asked.

“Water would be wonderful. Thank you,” I replied.

Catcher shook his head. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

When the bartender went to fill my request, Catcher grinned at me. “Throat run dry from staring at all the naked men? Or nekkid as we say in the South.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh please. It’s not like I haven’t seen a bunch of dicks in my day. When you’ve seen one, you’ve seen…” My voice trailed off at the sight of a twenty-something man coming toward us.

Catcher leaned forward and craned his neck to see where I was looking. “Well fuck me,” he murmured.

“Not without a gallon of lube,” I replied absently.

At the man’s combined length and girth, I’m pretty sure my cervix shriveled up and died. Kinda like the scene in Wizard of Oz when the Wicked Witch of the East’s feet curl up and go under Dorothy’s house. I swallowed hard as I tried to fathom the logistics of how you would even begin to give him a blow job. Talk about “just the tip.”

If the man realized we were staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed, he didn’t let on. He just kept on walking. However that was even possible when he was weighed down with such a meatstick. “I wonder how he fits that into a pair of jeans?” Catcher questioned.

“Maybe that’s why he lives here at the nudist colony. I mean, resort.”

Our conversation was interrupted by an attractive, fifty-something woman walking up to the bar. Her chestnut hair was streaked with silver and reached the top of her breasts, which were remarkably perky for a woman her age. Of course, my attention was naturally drawn to the seventies porn bush she was sporting. Ladyscaping must not have been big around here. Guess they spent a fortune on vacuum cleaners to suck up the stray pubes.

She extended her hand. “Hello. I’m Patricia Crandall. Barry called and said you were looking for me.”

Catcher shot off his stool and shook her hand. “I’m Holden Mains with GBI.” I noticed he always used his given name of Holden, rather than his nickname, when he was doing business. Jerking his thumb at me, Catcher added, “And this is Olivia Sullivan, she’s the coroner for Merriam County.”

Patricia frowned as she shook my hand. “Isn’t Taylorsville in Merriam County?”

“Yes, it is,” I replied.

After sucking in a harsh breath, Patricia glanced between Catcher and me. “Has something happened to Randy?”

Sensing I was the one best to handle this, Catcher nodded his head at me. I cleared my throat. “Ms. Crandall, I’m very sorry to have to tell you that Randy was found dead this morning at his home. It appears to be a homicide.”

Patricia swept one hand to her heart and the other went over her mouth. She shook her head furiously back and forth. “No, it can’t be true. I just talked to him last night. We made plans for this weekend.”

“I’m so very sorry.” I motioned to one of the couches across from the bar. “Why don’t you sit down?” I suggested.

Patricia’s response was to burst into tears. I glanced around for some way to comfort her. “Catcher—erm, Agent Mains, why don’t you grab Ms. Crandall a water?”