Page 7 of Covert Chaos

Beau eyed the cat. "King Tut," he said formally. "It's always good to see you. I admire the streak of pure menace that runs through you."

King Tut flicked his tail, which had slipped out from the bottom of my sweatshirt, and then suddenly launched out of my sweatshirt and onto Beau's lap, his claws raking a path of carnage across my chest.

I yelped in pain. Lucy grabbed a spoon and held it up for defense, while Hattie chuckled. "The cat who would not be contained. I delight in that beast."

Beau patted King Tut. "Where's the body?"

I knew we'd lose him as soon as he knew it was outside. "Did you see where Charles Barnes went?" As one of the most successful mystery writers of all time, Beau had a sensibility about murder that I didn't. His mind was diabolical, and he was a master of observation. His experience was all fictional, of course, but I respected his wisdom. Plus, he'd been here all night watching people, and I wanted his help.

"Charles?" He looked thoughtful, and for a moment, I had hope. Then he said, "You know I don't get involved. I observe only." He scratched King Tut under the chin, and the massive black beast curled up in a ball on his lap, closing his eyes to bask in the attention.

"The corpse is Beckwith Barnes," Hattie said, clearly trying to drag our unwilling expert into conversation.

"Beckwith?" He looked surprised. "That's unexpected." He opened his notebook to a new page and started scribbling notes.

I leaned over to see what he was writing, but he smacked my arm. "My ideas for a new book are sacred. If you read them, I will have you killed."

I paused. "You're very alarming."

"I know." King Tut raised his paw and tapped Beau's arm to politely request more patting, but Beau ignored him and went back to writing.

I leaned over his shoulder again. "If you help us, I'll show you the body."

He immediately put the notebook down. "I've been here since five, people watching for research. Charles Barnes has been here all evening, in and out. I saw Hattie get in her kerfuffle with Beckwith, and watched him storm out. Hattie left a while later." Understanding dawned on his face. "You're in trouble for Beckwith getting killed?" He shook his head. "You know better than to get into a public fight with someone who is about to be murdered, Hattie."

She raised her brows. "If only I'd known he was going to be murdered."

"Someone knew." Beau tapped his pen against his chin, clearly thinking. "Who knew?”

We waited, but he didn't write anything down or say anything, which meant he didn't know either.

Dang it. I'd been hoping for a miracle. "Why were you surprised it was Beckwith?"

"Because he’s always been a nice fellow. Smart." He paused. "But his brother is a bit of a beast, and they do business together." He shrugged. "You are who you hang out with."

"He wanted my pie recipe," Hattie said.

"Of course he did." Beau nodded. "They supply the pies for the Ugly Man. They're quite good, actually."

"I knew it!" Hattie slapped her hands down on the table. "Son of a biscuit! The Ugly Manisselling my pie recipe. Everyone knows my raspberry pie is the best in the state."

I had no doubt about that.

"Charles probably killed Beckwith when he failed to get me to hand over my recipes. And now he wants me in jail so he can steal all my secrets." She whirled around, searching the bar. "When I find that little punk, I'm going to kill him."

Lucy grinned. "That's a great idea to announce that, Hattie."

Hattie shrugged. "You know I don't mean it."

"But someone could overhear."

"I've been as helpful as I'm going to be." Beau put his notebook in a little bag by his hip. "Show me the body."

"It's in my truck outside," Hattie said. "Truck's unlocked."

"It's here? It's been here the whole time? You wenches!" Beau dumped a protesting King Tut on the bench, leapt to his feet, climbed over me, and then sprinted for the door, his phone out and ready to record.

And as he walked out the door, to my horror, in walked the local cop in question, Devlin Hunt, and my FBI ex-handler, Agent Hawk Strauss, who I'd nicknamed Griselda to take my power back. I swore under my breath and turned my back on them. "Boys night out," I whispered.

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