Free With Vics You Get Eggroll (A Mad for Mod Mystery Book 3) by Diane Vallere

see if I have any other commitments.”
    “I know this is in addition to what we hired you to do. Make sure you track the expenses and hours, and if you need another installment, just let me know. Now, why don’t you come up with a game plan and let me see some new sketches?” She turned to the wall behind her and waved her hands in small circles. “I’d love something Japanese.” I was reminded of Broadway Danny Rose when Mia Farrow talks about doing a room in bamboo.
    “Sure, I’ll see what I can come up with,” I said. I scribbled Japanese? Check storage locker on my sketch pad and flipped it shut.
    “Oh, and you’re invited, of course,” she said. “Wear your swimsuit and bring a date. Eight o’clock?”
    “Cleo, are you sure it’s a good idea to throw a party while Dan is away? In light of what’s been happening around Lakewood?”
    “Madison, you are delicious, you know that? You’re all a kerfluffle over there, trying to look out for me. It’s cute.” She handed me a pre-printed invitation, which let me know in no uncertain terms that “not doable” had not been an option. I headed out to see what I could come up with on the fly.

      
    It was going on lunchtime and I hadn’t eaten all day. I didn’t want to spend a lot of time or money, so it would probably be fast food. As I grew closer to my studio, I passed the parking lot to the shopping center where Kate Morrow’s body had been taken. There were half as many cars in the lot as usual. Tex’s Jeep sat in a spot in the back. A scruffy version of the man I knew appeared to be asleep in the driver’s seat.
    I drove past the Jeep to the Hunan Palace located in the corner of the strip mall. It was next to Paintin’ Place, and long ago I’d come to appreciate their buffet. I bought two combo meals, left my car parked in front of their shop, and walked to the Jeep. The closer I got, the surer I was that it was Tex inside. He didn’t look good.
    A faint stubble dusted his normally freshly shaven face. His dirty blond hair fell forward over one eye. His head rested against the headrest, eyes closed, and his chest rose and fell with even breathing.
    I wondered how exhausted he must have been to fall asleep in his car in the middle of the Casa Linda parking lot in broad daylight. I had a feeling I knew what he was doing there in the first place.
    I rapped on the front windshield, startling him. He stared at me for a few awkward moments, his icy blue eyes cloudy and unfocused from sleep. A stack of flyers sat on the passenger seat. From where I stood, I recognized images of the missing women. I was struck by the futility of handing out flyers in a parking lot in an attempt to find a lead.
    “Night,” he said. He looked at my outfit and shook his head. “When are you going to start wearing dresses again?”
    “When this job is over. Are you hungry?” I asked, changing the subject. I held up the bag of takeout.
    “Hunan Palace?” he asked. I nodded. “Hop in.”
    I circled the car. Tex moved the flyers from the seat to a webbed pocket inside his door and I climbed in. In the past year I’d learned how to get into and out of a Jeep in a dress; it was one of many new skills I’d picked since befriending the lieutenant. Today I was thankful for the pantsuit.
    The car smelled like Christmas. I looked at the rearview mirror, the floor mats, and the pockets in the door, eventually spotting a green tree-shaped air freshener sticking out from under the seat.
    I handed Tex a small container of white rice, took one for myself, and left additional containers of orange chicken and pork shu mai open between us. Nasty’s words flashed through my mind. He’s not the man you think he is. At least fifty different questions fluttered through my brain while I ate, none of them appropriate for the moment. All of the shu mai and most of the chicken was gone before I spoke.
    “Do you want to talk about this thing that’s going on with you?” I