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love affair with the ponies.”
    “Cupcake was a lot of things, but I doubt she was a bookie.” A ray of hope warmed me all over. “But I do believe she was up to something, and so was Urston. Oh, this is good, really good. I should tell Boone. It gives him another suspect to focus on and takes the heat off Hollis.”
    I stood, then sat right back down, suddenly feelingdepressed. “Except the minute I walk into Boone’s office the clock starts ticking, and I start paying. Bet he bills by the hour, and I have five minutes of information to hand over. The rat-bastard should be paying me if I’m giving him clues.”
    “I don’t think that’s how the rat-bastard works.” KiKi’s eyes closed, and she leaned back against the porch railing. She kicked off her left dance shoe, then the right one, and stretched out her legs. She tipped her face to the sun. “Don’t you love this time of year?” If she were a cat she’d have purred. Bless the healing powers of a good martini.
    “Maybe I should find out what Urston and Cupcake were up to. The more information I get, the less time Boone has to spend on the case, and the lower my bill. If I find out who really killed Cupcake before Hollis goes to trial, I can save a bundle. It’s court time that costs, and with your connections to the local gossips and all the dirt the Abbott sisters pick up at the wakes, I bet I can find out a bunch of stuff, maybe even who the killer is, and I work for free and—”
    KiKi bolted straight up as if stuck by lightning. She grabbed my shoulders and held tight, looking me dead in the eyes. “Are you out of your ever-loving mind?” She shook me, and I bit my tongue. “Someone’s murdering people and stuffing them in trunks. Then there’s the problem of you snooping around in a city where firepower outnumbers citizens, and the citizens don’t care much for snooping. We have no idea why Cupcake wound up where she did. Whoever happens to be responsible has done the deed once, so a second time around is a piece of cake. Just take the Urston information to Boone, okay?”
    KiKi flopped back against the railing. “Lordy, that plumb wore me out. I need a nap.”
    “Do you realize that after five years of trial and error and reading every blessed how–to book in the freaking library, I now know how to rewire a house; install faucets, sinks, and bathtubs; and tear off ten layers of wallpaper in one fell swoop?” I pointed to the flaking white paint on the front door, which still had its original glass and brass hardware. “I love that front door. I love this house. I’m selling all sorts of my stuff and everyone else’s to keep it. What if you had to give up Rose Gate, huh? How would you feel about that?” I nodded to her perfect house, which was painted blue and green and had a corbelled chimney, an oversized parlor that served as a dance studio, and an ironwork fence with a rose-patterned gate.
    Auntie KiKi sobered and made the sign of the cross to cancel the blasphemy of losing Rose Gate. “What if you wind up on a slab at the morgue with coroner Hewlett peering over your naked dead body?”
    “No one expects me to be looking for Cupcake’s murderer. Everyone thinks I’m tickled to my toes that Cupcake is dead and gone. There’s no love lost between Hollis and me, so why would I want to see him go free? I’ll fly under the radar.”
    “You never fly under the radar. You’re a king-size blip on everyone’s screen.” Auntie KiKi counted off on her fingers. “Your mother’s a judge, you married the town playboy, who everyone knew was a playboy but you, and you drive cars with dead people in them. Let Boone take care of this. He has connections. No one messes with that man. He has the tattoo to prove it.”
    “Have you ever seen it?”
    “Well”—Auntie KiKi’s lips formed a sly smile—“AngieGilbert’s a nurse over at Doc Wilson’s, and she gave Boone a flu shot once. There it was, that ‘17’ on his shoulder, big