Free Bedeviled Eggs by Laura Childs

Suzanne asked.
    Toni shifted
nervously. “You got any wine?”
    “Sure,” said Suzanne. “I’ve
got open bottles of Char donnay and Barolo Riserva, although there may only be a couple of fingers left
of the Barolo. What’s your choice?”
    “The white stuff,”
said Toni. “Whichever one that is.”
    “Sure,” said Suzanne.
She looked at Kit. “Kit?”
    “Nothing for me,”
said Kit, holding up a hand. “I don’t really drink.”
    Toni seemed
surprised. “Seriously? You work at Hoo bly’s and never tip back a
brewski now and then?”
    ‘Trust me,” said Kit, “if
you worked out there, you wouldn’t
drink, either.”
    Suzanne brought back a
glass of Chardonnay for Toni and the almost-empty bottle of Barolo for herself, then settled cross-legged
on the floor. Baxter slunk over and lay down next to her, pressing his
warmth against her body.
    “Okay,” said Suzanne,
trying to keep the conversation light, even though a nervous buzz had started pulsing in her brain. A warning
blip that said, Something’s about to happen here. “You darkened my
doorway and said you had important
news for me.”
    Toni cleared her
throat, then said, “Here’s the thing. I know it’s gonna sound weird, but
we’ve got some informa tion that relates to Chuck Peebler’s murder.”
    “What?” said Suzanne.
    Toni held up a
finger. “Strangely enough, it also dove tails with your looking into
things as a special favor to Jane...”
    “Okay,” said Suzanne,
wishing Toni would get to the point.
    “The thing is,” said
Toni, “it’s something that could sort of...” She searched for the right word. “... impact the investigation.”
    “I’m listening,” said
Suzanne, wiggling a foot ner vously, wondering where all this was going.
    Toni took a quick sip
of wine, set her glass down, and said, “Junior took me out to Hoobly’s earlier tonight
for a beer and burger.”
    Suzanne wanted to say, Big mistake, but didn’t. Instead she said, “Uh-huh.”
    “After we
were done eating, I ducked into the ladies’ room,” said Toni. “And that’s
when I ran into Kit.”
    Kit looked slightly
embarrassed.’ “The dancers don’t have their own bathroom like they do at big
clubs,” she explained.
    “We were
standing at the mirror,” said Toni, “minding our own business and refreshing
our lip gloss. And some how we started talking about Chuck Peebler’s murder. Which is on everybody’s radar right
now.”
    Suzanne gave an
acknowledging nod.
    “Anyway,” said Toni,
looking decidedly nervous and taking another sip of wine, “we jabbered about the
murder and...
well, you tell her, Kit Tell Suzanne exactly what you told me.”
    Kit
stared at Suzanne with big, guileless eyes. “Chuck Peebler, the guy who was killed
last night... ?” She hesi tated,
her courage seeming to falter.
    “Yes,”
said Suzanne, tiredness seeping into her voice now. “Toni and I were there when
it happened, and I’m sure she gave you all the gruesome details.”
    ‘True crime, up close
and personal,” muttered Toni.
    “And what about
Peebler?” Suzanne asked Kit.
    “Well,”
said Kit, “Chuck Peebler used to ... how shall I phrase this? He used to
frequent Hoobly’s.”
    “You mean he was
campaigning there?” asked Suzanne. “Asking for votes? Glad-handing the customers,
such as they are?”
    “Actually, it was
more like manhandling,” said Kit, in a disgusted voice.
    “What!” said Suzanne.
Now they really had her attention.
    “Peebler used to hang
around Hoobly’s and pester all the girls who worked there,” explained Kit “But most of all, he had a thing for dancers.”
    “Lot of
that going around,” muttered Toni. “Pestering, I mean.”
    “Wait a minute,” said
Suzanne, holding up an index fin ger. “Peebler was old enough to be...” Her mouth snapped shut this information
was not only weird; it put a whole new spin on things’. “I had no idea,” Suzanne
murmured, still digesting Kit’s words. “But,