Read Diner Knock Out (A Rose Strickland Mystery Book 4) for Free Online Page B

and pinned Franco with a glare. “Not another word, do you understand me?”
    Sofia’s mother thrust her head into the living room once more. She said something in rapid Spanish, and Sofia snapped back, shouting over the baby’s screams.
    Then she gestured for me to get up. “You need to go.” She rubbed her free hand along Olivia’s back in a soothing motion.
    I pulled a card from my pocket and laid it on the coffee table as she stomped out of the room. A moment later, a door slammed and shook the entire house.
    I gazed over at Franco. “That’s a nice Mustang you’ve got. Is it new?”
    He threw out a sneer, the kind that only snotty adolescents could pull off. “What business is it of yours?”
    Absolutely none, but that had never stopped me before. “Anything you can tell me about Rob? His habits, his friends?”
    “Nope.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
    “When was the last time you talked to him?”
    “Why the hell would I talk to him? He’s a douchebag.” Then he stretched out his long legs, blocking off my exit and forcing me to walk around the coffee table on my way to the front door.
    Well, I’d learned a few things from this little side trip. Franco was a dick, and while Rob may have loved his kid, he hadn’t exactly been a hands-on dad. I wasn’t sure how that helped me, but I stored it away in my mental folder.
    Outside, I climbed into my car, rolled down my window, and cranked the air. While I waited for it to kick in, I did a quick search on my phone. Carlucci Motors was open until nine p.m. Since it was only seven fifteen, yippee for me.
    I drove east, taking an exit that would lead me to car heaven. Most of the dealerships in town were clustered together on what used to be sixty or seventy acres of farmland. Carlucci had the prime spot, right in the middle of the long stretch of road. The vehicles faced outward, watching the flow of traffic—red, black, and silver inanimate puppies, waiting for adoption.
    I parked on one side of the lot, then strolled past the pretty new cars, wishing I could afford to drive something from this century. It was good to have dreams.
    Colorful pennant banners overhead swayed with the gentle breeze. The sun eased toward the horizon now, flashing brightly off the hoods of all those cars. Hundreds of them. Squinting, I stopped to peek at the price on a sedan and nearly swooned from sticker shock. Looked like I’d be driving the crapmobile for a few more years.
    With a sigh, I forced myself to stop petting the pretty blue Honda and walked into the vast showroom. The one-story glass building was so large it reminded me of an airport. With separate sections for each car brand, I wasn’t sure where to look first. Pausing, my glance bounced over all the new models.
    A very smiley man in his thirties walked toward me. “Hey there. How are you today?”
    “Doing well, thanks. You?”
    “Can’t complain.” He chuckled, as if he’d told a joke. “So, you’re looking for a car.”
    I couldn’t fault his deductive skills. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to Mr. Carlucci.”
    His fuzzy blond brows lowered slightly. “Mr. Carlucci doesn’t sell cars. But I’ll be happy to help you find what you’re looking for. I’m John, by the way.”
    I’d decided on my approach during the drive over. Since the fight club wasn’t public knowledge and Sofia said the men in charge could be dangerous, I thought my best avenue would be pulling out the mom card. I didn’t like to use Barbara Strickland’s name in vain, but sometimes my family connections came in handy. “I’m Rosalyn Strickland. I’ll only speak with Mr. Carlucci directly.” I tried my darndest to channel my mother’s superior tone.
    John the Car Salesman lost his smile real quick. He wasn’t going to get a sale, so why waste another minute on me? “I’ll get the manager for you.” Without waiting for my reply, he whipped out his phone and tapped out a text. “He’ll be here shortly. Have a