Free Diner Knock Out (A Rose Strickland Mystery Book 4) by Terri L. Austin

her anymore. I didn’t want Roxy to become my new Julie Swanson. “Of course I’ll come. Can’t wait.”

      
    The gym was housed in a one-story, rundown building next to a tattoo parlor. Though Buster “Butterfly” Madison never made much of a name for himself on the professional circuit, he’d somehow managed to rub elbows with a few notables. In the hallway leading from the front door to the gym area, framed pictures of Buster covered the pitted concrete walls. In the oldest photos, he sported shaggy hair and stood next to a famous boxer even I recognized. There were various snaps of Buster grinning down at D-list TV actresses and two national sportscasters. As we advanced toward the inner double doors, I saw more recent photos of Buster. His gray hair was buzzed close to the scalp and his cauliflower ears jutted from either side of his head. He stood next to our illustrious mayor, a baseball pitcher, and—surprise, surprise—Will Carlucci.
    I tapped the frame. “We have a link, ladies. Rob supposedly worked for Carlucci, owner of Carlucci Motors, and he recently showed up driving a tricked-out Escalade he couldn’t afford.”
    Roxy flipped a curl over her shoulder. “Pretty swaggy for a fighter with no bank. So what does he really do for Carlucci?”
    I raised a brow. “Win?”
    Sugar threw her arms around our shoulders. “You guys are like Veronica Mars, for realsies.”
    All righty. I twirled away and hustled toward the sounds of grunts and punches coming from the room beyond the peeling gray doors. I turned back to Roxy. “We’re going to split up. I’ll take Buster, you guys ask the other fighters about Rob. We need to know when the next fight is going to happen and where Rob got his drugs. But remember, be subtle.”
    Roxy smacked her gum a few times. “I’m always subtle, Rose. Get a grip.”
    Sugar brushed a hand over her dress and rubbed her glossy lips together. “Challenge delivered and accepted.” Oh, boy.
    I pushed open both doors and took in my surroundings before moving forward. A caged ring stood in the middle of the floor, taking up most of the space. Along the perimeters, ten sweaty men jumped rope, three pounded weight bags, and four more wrestled on mats. Two men sparred inside the cage, and Buster Madison stood ringside, clutching the white towel draped around his nape. He was shorter than I expected.
    As we walked further into the room, all movement stopped. The rhythmic tap of the rope ceased, and every eyeball locked on us. To be fair, most of the attention went to Roxy and Sugar.
    I wished like crazy I’d taken the time to put on my black slacks and a dressier blouse. I hadn’t realized it until now, but the professional attire had become my armor, giving me more respectability than a hot pink t-shirt and faded jeans.
    Buster’s pale eyes were watchful as I approached.
    On my way, I nodded to a large man with tats covering his entire torso, then halted directly in front of Buster. “My name is Rose Strickland. I was wondering if I could speak to you for a minute.” I didn’t want to bring up Rob’s missing status in front of everyone. But if Buster didn’t cooperate, I’d have to.
    “You selling Girl Scout cookies or something, sweetheart?” He glanced at a fighter to my left and snickered. “Sorry, honey, we don’t train girls here.”
    Ah, a dinosaur from the days when women were broads and knew their place—either the bedroom or the kitchen. Nice. “If I ever take up fighting, I’ll keep that in mind. Mr. Madison, you and I need to talk.”
    He rubbed his bulby nose and sniffed. “Nah, we don’t. Run along, sweetheart. You’re cute, but I don’t have time for you today.” Then he turned his back on me and began yelling commands at the fighters in the ring, who resumed throwing punches at each other.
    Movement picked up around me. The rapid staccato of a speed bag, the solid thwunk of a takedown on the mat to my right. 
    When I tapped Buster’s