Read Fool's Gold (A sexy funny mystery/romance, Cottonmouth Book 2) for Free Online Page B

certainly
encountered his share of prostitutes, not as a customer, but on the
other end of the law. But Chloe’s breast pressed to his arm gave
him the heebie-jeebies. He’d complete his business and be out of
there pronto.
    He raised his nose, sniffing for the sweetly
floral aroma Maggie had described. Instead he encountered only the
mixture of heavily abused cheap cologne. The chickens must have
dabbed themselves with the same scent.
    “Go ahead, Big Boy, don’t be nervous. You can
get to know them a little first, if you like.” Chloe pushed him
toward the circle of women on the floor. “Cotton Candy, Chocolate,
Peppermint, and Caramel.” Which did not refer to the color of their
skin, but the hue of their frilly look-alike lingerie.
    At least she hadn’t given them chicken names.
Maybe it was a brother’s loyalty, but he couldn’t imagine Carl
choosing a chicken over Maggie.
    An open box and a conglomeration of pieces
and parts lay strewn about the middle of the girls’ circle.
    “What ya got there?” he asked.
    “It’s Chocolate’s little nephew’s birthday,
and we bought him a robot,” said Peppermint. Presumably she was
Peppermint, based on the red and white swirls of her lacy teddy.
She might have been pretty if not for the hard glint in her
turquoise eyes, which were most likely contact-lens enhanced. And
yes, he noticed her breasts. How could one not notice,
though to his taste, they were overdone. Simone’s were less
ostentatious, but far more appealing. He wondered if breast
enlargement would be considered a tax-deductible expense for a
topless dancer or a Nevada prostitute.
    “But we can’t figure out how to put it
together,” Chocolate added. She leaned over the box. “ Some assembly required. Who are these jokers kidding? This is rocket
science here.”
    “Maybe I can help.”
    The circle parted like the Red Sea to include
him. He hadn’t sat cross-legged since he was ten years old and
Maggie’d bounced a ball off his privates. She’d always claimed it
was an accident.
    “Here’s the instructions,” Candy said,
wearing a pink teddy to identify the Cotton Candy of her name. She
handed him a ten-page legalese document with a smattering of
drawings.
    “Well, let’s get some light on the subject.”
He waved at the blinds on a nearby window, and Caramel rose to open
them, her backside wiggling beneath caramel-colored lace and
ribbons.
    Brax studied the diagrams.
    “All right, let’s get started.” He held out a
hand, palm up. “Screws.” Someone tittered, but slapped the plastic
bag full of nuts, bolts and screws into his outstretched hand.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Big Boy.”
    This time they all laughed. “No, really. We
have to tell Timmy who put together the robot.”
    “Brax.”
    “That’s a funny name. You’re not from around
here.” It didn’t matter who said what; Brax’s attention was on the
instructions, or so the chickens would have thought.
    “Visiting.” His opportunity presented itself
that easily. Not that he wouldn’t have found another way. He was a
cop, after all. Interrogation was his middle name. “I’m Carl
Felman’s brother-in-law.”
    “Ah, the brother-in-law. You’re a sheriff.
Wanna arrest me?”
    As in Cottonmouth, word traveled fast and
everyone knew everything. Even the chickens. “Wouldn’t dream of
arresting such lovely ladies.” Brax sifted through the pieces on
the floor for the one he wanted. “So you know him?”
    “Everyone knows Carl. Him and Whitey are
fighting over Whitey’s outhouses.”
    Whitey, purveyor of skull license plate
frames like the one on Simone’s truck. Brax held out his hand
again, like a surgeon asking for his scalpel. “Phillips
screwdriver.” Thankfully, the kit had come with the proper tools.
“They’re fighting over outhouses?”
    “Yeah. Whitey wants to charge Carl bucks up
the ying-yang to excavate his four outhouses.”
    Brax raised one brow, then pointed to what he
believed was the