Diner Knock Out (A Rose Strickland Mystery Book 4) by Terri L. Austin

can’t be more helpful.”
    I stood and slung my bag over my shoulder. “Thanks, Kai. Don’t get too worked up about Rob’s lack of disclosure. People don’t like to share their dirty little secrets. Especially with friends. He was probably afraid of disappointing you.”
    He rose to his feet, shoved both hands into his jeans pockets. “I wouldn’t judge him. He should know that by now. You come in here asking all these questions, I feel like you’re talking about a stranger and not the guy I’ve known for the last four years.”
    I hoped my smile was reassuring, but I feared that nothing I said or did could make up for the bombs I’d dropped on Kai today. I sympathized with him. I had someone in my life who kept a lot of secrets. When it came to his past, Sullivan was as silent as a baseball stadium in the middle of December.
    Kai ushered me back through the dojo and opened the front door. “Thanks for stopping by. If you hear anything, let me know.”
    “Of course.” I stepped outside into the damp heat and climbed into an even hotter car.
    I rolled down the window, and while waiting for the air to kick in, called Ax. “So how’d it go? You didn’t give in and buy the orange pants, did you?”
    “No way. I now have three new pairs of stylin’ jeans that cost more than your car is worth. And I remember why I never shop. It’s exhausting, man.”
    “Good luck on Monday. I’ll be thinking of you.” I hung up and called Sullivan next.
    “Rose.”
    Hellos and goodbyes were too mundane for him. “What are you doing tonight? Want to meet up at my place? Have some dinner?”
    “I’d love to, but I have a business matter that’s come up.”
    Disappointed, I propped my elbow on the edge of the door and immediately regretted it. “Ow!” The metal strip burned my arm.
    “You all right?”
    “Super. Hey, I’m working on this case—”
    I heard deep voices speaking in the background. “I have to go, Rose. I’ll call you later.”
    Terrific. I’d plowed through my entire list of to-do items and was at a loss. Roxy was busy. Ax had exerted all of his energy at the mall. I was on my own.
    So I put the car in gear and went to check out Chez Carlucci. If nothing else, I could get the lay of the land.

      
    In northeast Huntingford, where properties came with acreage, I had to wind my way through curvy country roads to find Will Carlucci’s estate. Surrounded by a tall spiked fence and a dense grouping of trees, I didn’t even catch a glimpse of the house itself. The gates were overly fussy, with wrought-iron swirls and gold leaf initials WC . My mother would have shuddered at the ostentation. Visible cameras had been mounted on the trees and along the fence. They followed me as I puttered up the street, stopping long enough to get a gander at the setup.
    Though I hated to admit it, I couldn’t get through those gates on my own. I needed to get ahold of Sullivan, find out what he knew about Will Carlucci. If not, I’d be forced to ask my mother. I did have a family dinner tomorrow night. It would be the perfect time to talk to her. But first, I’d have to eat a big piece of humble pie—my least favorite flavor.
    Giving up on Carlucci for the night, I stopped by the Burger Barn on my way home. Standing at the sink in my kitchenette, I snarfed up a fat-laden burger and monster tots, then, properly sated, fired up ye olde laptop. I wanted to Google Jimmy Duncan, the fighter who’d been talking with Sugar this afternoon, the one with a pair of lips tattooed on his ass.
    According to his social media sites, Jimmy worked for Sanders and Associates. And he had a penchant for taking shirtless selfies. I glossed over the selfies and did a search on his employer.
    Sanders and Associates was a local land development company. Wyatt Sanders was the head of an ecofriendly firm and a millionaire to boot. His latest project, a holistic hotel and spa located on the outskirts of Huntingford, promised to use the latest