Free Killing America's Sweetheart: A Natalie Miller Mystery by Ella Meeks

looked upset when I told him you were gone. His face gave him away. So you’d better spill, what happened?”
    Ugh. I really did not want to have this conversation with my mother. There are just some things that should never, ever, under any circumstances be shared. One night stand details, included.
    “Nothing. It wasn’t a big deal. Obviously, it didn’t mean much since he’s been with Emma since I came back from rehab ,” I said off handedly.
    She gave me a long hard look, but said nothing.
    “Well, that Simon Bellamy is really good looking!”
    There was no denying that Simon was pretty hot. I’d have to be crazy not to see that. Hell, my own mother was practically fanning herself as she said his name.
    “Of course he is. He also just lost his girlfriend, and has hired me to help him find out what happened to her,” I said, trying to keep everything focused on the important facts.
    “It’s such a shocking thing to occur in our town. A big Hollywood star murdered. So, you have any leads?” she asked.
    “Maybe,” I said. I wasn’t about to disclose what Karen and I had planned later that night. If I mentioned it, my mom would insist on coming along and that would be a disaster.
     
    CHAPTER TWELVE
    With our bellies full, Honey and I set off for our apartment in need of a nice leisurely nap. Thankfully, there were no interruptions and both of us found ourselves fast asleep. When I woke up a few hours later, it was nearly dark out and Honey was curled up into a little ball next to my stomach.
    Uncon ditional love. There’s nothing like the affection of a furry friend. I smiled and dragged myself up.
    I checked my phone to see a new text message from Karen letting me know she’d be over at 7pm. I looked at the time and saw that I had about an hour before she arrived. After freshening up, changing into a pair of jeans, chunky gray sweater and my trusty boots, I figured I was all ready for our stakeout at The Bombay Inn.
    Right about 7:20, there was a knock at my door. I knew it had to be Karen because I was expecting no one else, and for the simple fact that if she told you she was going somewhere at a certain time, you always added 20-30 minutes to it.
    I opened the door and my jaw fell open.
    “What?” she asked.
    Standing in front of me was Karen dressed in head to toe black-jeans, turtleneck, boots and beanie.
    “What the hell are you wearing?” I exclaimed.
    “Stakeout clothes. It’s what they wear in the movies,” she replied simply and made her way inside with her back toward me.
    “You look like a fucking cat burglar. We want to not attract attention, but in that area, dressed like you are, we’ll look like we’re part of the SWAT team!”
    She turned around and that’s when I saw the additional accessories.
    Mental forehead slap.
    Around her waist was a utility belt holster con taining all kinds of gadgets, containers and what looked to be a gun holster.
    “What the fuck is that?” I as ked pointing toward her middle.
    “ Oh, just some emergency stuff, pepper spray, stun gun, rape whistle, pen knife, a throwing star, night goggles, lock pick, and two way radios,” she rattled off.
    “Is that a gun?” I asked.
    “What? This?” she replied pointing to the black case.
    “Yeah!” I nodded.
    “No… I mean, yeah it’s a gun, but it’s not loaded or anything.”
    I felt the muscles in my neck tighten. A migraine was on the horizon. I also heard a laugh come from the ever silent Gilles. Nice to be amusing my spirit guide.
    “Please tell me you have a license to carry?”
    She didn’t answer, just simply smiled.
    Karen reached up and pushed her glasses and that’s when I saw the money shot.
    “What the hell is that shit under your eyes?”
    She looked at me for a moment, as if she was unaware and then smiled when recognition set in.
    “It’s black eye paint. I use it when I have a derby bout. It’s also good for reducing glare and since I have glasses, I thought it was