Last Resort of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 9) by Vanessa Gray Bartal

always argue this much?”
Belle asked in a stage whisper. Jason was beginning to grow weary of the
Underwood women.
    “They don’t argue. They discuss
things.” This surprising defense came from Riley, although Jason thought it
probably had more to do with her ongoing war with the three B’s.
    “Usually they tend the other
way—so lovey it’s vomit inducing,” Michael said.
    “No one who isn’t Thurston Howell
should ever say ‘lovey.’” Lacy said.
    Michael reached across the table
and rapped her knuckles with his spoon.
    “Thanks, that was the only part of
my body that didn’t hurt,” Lacy said.
    A waiter arrived. For a while,
everyone was busy giving an order, everyone except Lacy who tried to busy
herself by squeezing a lemon wedge into her water. Jason had never sat through
a meal with her when she didn’t eat something. By now they had settled into a
happy routine where she ate most of the bread and butter and he ate whatever
vegetables came with her meal. They were the high carb/low carb version of Jack
Sprat and his wife. Now there was bread on the table, and she didn’t even reach
for it. Granted it was made from spelt, but still, he missed the non-dieting
version of her.
    He rested his hand lightly on her
back and felt some of the tension ease out of her. She even managed a smile
before her parents started to quibble again.
    “So, you went skiing today,”
Frannie said to Clint as if lobbing the first canon.
    “Did I need your permission for
that, too?” he said.
    “Would it have made a difference if
you did? You’re in your own world half the time anyway,” Frannie said.
    “Guys,” Riley said. Lucy gave a
tiny wail and she began to bounce her. “Supper table. Public place. Seriously.”
    “All I’m saying is that a little
consideration would be nice now and then,” Frannie said.
    “When have I ever considered
anything but you?” Clint demanded.
    Lacy stood—with difficulty
and the assistance of the table. “I’m going to go take another bath and see if
it helps my muscles. I’ll catch up with you later,” she added to Jason.
Everyone watched her hobble sadly away.
    “I think she’s mad at you,” Frannie
said, and Jason resisted the urge to check his ears. Was she serious? Did she
not know Lacy at all? Could she not tell she was upset over the bickering
between her parents?
    “I don’t think so,” Jason refuted
as politely as he could.
    Frannie nodded. “She wants you to
look into things for her friend, Sven. You know how Lacy is, always taking up
for the little guy. And really, Jason, you’re a police officer. How hard could
it be to make a few inquiries?”
    “Frannie,” he said on a sigh. He
didn’t want to have it out with her in front of everyone, to list for her all
the reasons he didn’t want to get involved in a case that wasn’t his. If he
were being honest, he couldn’t care less about the case. He was sad a woman was
dead, but he was certain the local police could handle it. What he cared about
at the moment was Lacy. He wanted to see her smile again. He wanted to see her
eat again. In her world, the two went hand in hand. But she wouldn’t get off
her diet kick as long as her parents were at war. Suddenly, he had a brilliant
idea.
    “I’ll make a deal with you,” he
said.
    Her eyes were instantly guarded.
“What kind of deal?”
    “I’ll ask a few questions for Lacy
to try and help her friend, if you let me ask you a few questions, too.”
    “About what?” she asked, fully wary
now.
    “This and that,” he said vaguely.
    “You can ask whatever you want, but
there’s no guarantee I’ll answer,” Frannie said.
    All he needed was a foothold, and
he was sure he could find the answers he was looking for. He was a detective,
after all. “Good, then it’s a deal.”

Chapter 12

 
    Lacy took a long warm bath that did
little to alleviate her muscle pain and spasms.
    “I need you to do something for
me,” she said after finally levering