“You were meant to.”
Watson whines with his chin resting on my knee. He’s giving it his best “I’m starving” performance which could win him an Oscar tonight—or a meatball sandwich.
“Don’t fall for it,” Cooper warns. “He already conned three hot dog vendors into giving him samples.”
I break off a corner of a meatball and slip it to Watson while Cooper looks away. The dog’s tail thumps against the ground with joy and it warms my heart while doing so.
“Happy dog, happy life,” I’m quick to say and Cooper frowns twice as hard.
From the next table over, Niki’s voice rises above the general festival hubbub. “I’m just saying, if you ever need help applying wax to those hard-to-reach places, I’m available for house calls.”
Aunt Cat and Carlotta are also holding court with the shirtless wonders from the candle booth. The men still have traces of colorful wax on their chests, which have now hardened into festive patterns. One poor guy has what appears to be a candy cane running from his shoulder to his navel. And I’ll admit, it does look tasty.
“Hey, I know him.” Cooper squints at the guy. “That’s Deputy Diggins. Are those my tax dollars at work?” Cooper nods toward the muscular man who is definitely a county deputy when he’s not moonlighting as a human candle.
“Consider it community outreach,” Carlotta calls over. “Loosen up, Foxy Knoxy. We’re spreading a little Christmas cheer!”
“And hot wax!” Aunt Cat adds, raising her glass as if she were toasting.
“To body hair—may it rest in peace!” Niki joins in and I nearly choke on my hot chocolate as I hold back a laugh.
“What?” I say to Coop. “It’s practically the battle cry of every woman under fifty. They’re the only ones who really investigate the hairy matter at hand.”
Cooper shakes his head my way. “Speaking of investigations, I saw you talking to Holly Bellini earlier.” He hikes a brow. “Care to tell me what that conversation was about?”
I take a strategic bite of arancini to buy time. “Just a little girl talk,” I say around a mouthful of rice and cheese. “You know—fashion, makeup, the mysterious death of a wealthy old man during a Christmas festival. The usual.”
“Effie.” There’s that detective voice I know and occasionally fear.
“Fine.” I swallow and give him a quick recap of my conversation with Holly. “She basically pointed the finger at Stella Martinelli. Said they had an argument right before he died.”
“And you just happened to be asking about a potential homicide because...?”
“Because I’m curious by nature.” I bat my eyelashes innocently.
Cooper shakes his head. “Effie, you cannot investigate this case.”
“Why not? Is it officially a homicide?”
Watson barks sharply as if answering for Cooper and wags his tail like mad.
“I thought you were on my side?” Cooper frowns at the pooch.
“Watson knows talent when he sees it,” I say, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “He’s backing the winning team. So what happened to the guy, Coop?” A thought comes to me and I gasp. “Don’t tell me he was poisoned.”
Cooper gives a wistful tick of his head. “You really are good, you know that?”
“Wait until you see what I can do under the sheets,” I tease, enjoying the smile begging to curve on his lips. It’s the truth, too. Even though Coop and I have been hot and heavy for a while now, there’s still plenty of room to get hotter and heavier, if you know what I mean. Some territories remain unexplored—which only makes the exploring more fun.
“Okay,” he says, as if accepting my proposal, and for a second I think he’s going to suggest we ditch the festival for moreprivate activities. Instead, he leans in close. “I’ll fill you in on what toxicology discovered. Nicholas Bianchi had elevated levels of pentobarbital in his system.”
“Penta-what-now?”
“Pentobarbital. It’s a sedative, primarily used as an anesthetic, but if it’s strong enough it could euthanize just about anyone. It depresses the central nervous system, slows breathing, and in high enough doses?—”
“Sends you face-first into a hot elf’s peppermint pinwheels?” I finish for him. And yes, I just called myself hot. Someone has to. Besides, it’s good for my ego to hear it once in a while.
“Essentially,” he says.
