Page 95 of The Holiday Grump
“I know most of them are ex-cops, but maybe there’s room for one slightly unconventional one? It’s all aboutmarketing, isn’t it? Finding the right angle. Like, what makes you stand out? If I were psychic, that’d be a piece of cake. Maybe I could allude to that without saying it. Like… he’s very astute, often mistaken for being psychic…”
Was he talking about himself in the third person?
“You’re right. Marketing is probably the hard part. I can’t imagine there’d be that much private detective work available in a small town.”
“I could expand to the neighboring towns,” he mused, taking a sip of his matching drink.
He’d told me it would look better if we ordered the same thing, like we were totally in sync. Which we totally were.
“What are you looking for in a woman?” I asked him, desperate to change the subject. “Other than peach-colored clothing?”
He laughed. “Oh, yeah. My mom’s crazy about the color peach. We have peach curtains and bedspreads and towels. Everything. I figured she’d like a girl who was wearing peach.”
“You want someone who gets along with your mom?”
“Well, I have a sweet deal. I’m not going to move out anytime soon. So I guess they would have to get along.”
“Makes sense.”
“And she should be hot. A total smoke show. Like high heels and a dress. No offense.”
I suppressed my amusement, glancing at my loose-knit sweater. “That’s okay. I didn’t bring the smoke machine.”
“You’re funny, though. That’s good, too.” He reached across the bar to touch my hand.
Despite the general noise level and Christmas music, I could practically feel Fredrik gasp across the room.
Well, he’d agreed to this. He’d just have to deal with it. I pulled my hand away from Ralph’s grasp, trying to look like I wasn’t rejecting him and only adjusting myself on the barstool. I rested my elbow on the bar and smiled. “Do you know how many people are staring at us right now?”
“At least ten,” Ralph replied without missing a beat. “It’s working.”
“How much longer do you want to keep going?”
“Maybe five minutes,” he said.
We kept talking about potential hairstyles for him until he informed me it was time for him to make his exit. I sighed with relief.
And that was when it happened.
Ralph stood, reaching for a hug. As I slid off my stool to meet him, he stumbled over his tail and pitched forward, hands first. Without the foam claws, his bare palms landed squarely on my chest.
“Whoa—” I staggered back, trying to steady him, but he grabbed at my neckline for balance, yanking my sweater down as he flailed. My ass hit the barstool, knocking it over with a clatter. I braced for Ralph to crash to the floor.
He didn’t.
Fredrik had him by the scruff of his costume, holding him upright like he weighed nothing. His voice cracked like a whip. “What the hell are you doing?”
Ralph’s eyes went wide. “Nothing! It was an accident?—”
Fredrik’s fist cut him off. One sharp crack to the face, and Ralph folded, sprawling on the floor like a rag doll.
“No!” I screamed, rushing forward. “He’s just clumsy. He didn’t mean?—”
Fredrik’s hand clamped around my arm. “You’re comingwith me.” He yanked me toward the door, not slowing even as people turned to stare. Camera flashes popped at the edge of my periphery—God, we were being recorded.
The cold outside slapped me awake. I tried to twist myself free. “Stop! I’m not going anywhere until I know he’s okay?—”
“He’s fine. That ridiculous costume cushioned his fall. He’ll have a black eye, and I’ll apologize later. But right now, I need you to come with me.”
