Diner Knock Out (A Rose Strickland Mystery Book 4) (6 page)

“How do you know about the club?” His narrowed eyes turned to cold blue chips. “And did you just threaten me?”

“Um, yeah.” I furrowed my brow at him. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

My heart pounded as he stared me down. I hoped he wouldn’t throw me over his shoulder like a Hefty bag and toss me out on my ass.

After a long moment, he barked at the guys in the ring, told them to continue sparring. “I’ll give you five minutes.” Striding past me, he deliberately bumped my shoulder on his way to the back of the room.

I shifted my glance from side to side as I followed, trying to commit a few faces to memory. But my attention was drawn to a white guy in the corner sporting a mohawk and a blank expression. He kept his eyes trained on me, watching my progress across the room.
Hello, creeper
. At his intense scrutiny, a shiver slid down my spine.

I tore my gaze away and trailed after Buster, who stomped through the office and sank into a chair behind a cluttered desk. “Shut the door.”

I did as he requested and gazed out the picture window next to it. Roxy had cornered a guy, keeping him from jumping rope. I smiled at her fierce stance—hands on her hips, feet braced wide apart. I was glad to have her back on my team.

I turned to Buster. “When was the last time you heard from Rob?”

“What are you, another girlfriend? He didn’t knock you up too, did he?”

I didn’t bother to answer. Just crossed my arms and gave him my death ray stare.

He sighed. “Look, I don’t know where Rob is. Frankly, I don’t care what my fighters get up to in their spare time. If you want to rein him in, that’s your business. I don’t get involved in domestic disputes, sweetheart.”

“Glad to hear it. Speaking of disputes, I’d love to get a ringside seat at the next fight club.”

“Do you think you’re being cute? You better not mention the club to anyone, you got that?” He pointed his crooked forefinger at me. “Not unless you want a whole world of trouble to come crashing down.” I jumped a little when he pounded his fist on the desk for emphasis.

His threats were scarier and more effective than mine, but I wouldn’t be deterred. Not when I had a hot case on my hands. “Rob Huggins is missing.”

Buster lowered his bushy brows until they obscured his eyes. “Who are you? Why do you care about Robbie?”

“As I said, my name is Rose Strickland. I work with the Thomas Detective Agency, and I’m looking into Rob’s disappearance.”

He stood then, but kept the glower firmly in place. From the pictures in the hallway, back in the day Buster had been muscular but lean. In the intervening years a layer of flab had developed around his abs. His large, scarred hands bunched into fists. “Disappearance? What the hell are you talking about? If Rob didn’t tell you about the fight club, how did you find out?”

“May I sit?” I pointed to the ratty faux-leather chair in the corner. I didn’t wait for permission and pulled it up to his desk. The metal feet made a scraping noise across the gray concrete floor. I balanced on the edge of it and crossed my ankles. “Did he mention taking some time off? Where would he go?”

Buster’s brows lowered even further, wiggling like two gray caterpillars. “Who hired you?”

“I can’t say. Client confidentiality. Help me out here, Mr. Madison. Would Rob have skipped town? Does he have any enemies at the fight club?”

He flung his hand toward the window. “Look at ’em out there. They’re all enemies, fighting for the same prize.” Buster fell back into his seat. Lost in thought, he stared at a pile of papers. “I talked to him on Tuesday, maybe Wednesday.”

“What did you talk about?”

He shrugged his meaty shoulders. “Fighting shit. Workout schedules. Listen, sweetheart, whoever hired you is wasting their money. Rob has obligations. He’ll turn up.” I heard an unspoken “or else” in that sentence.

“Obligations to Will Carlucci?”

He flinched at the name. “Time’s up. None of this is your business. Rob’ll be back, so you better forget you ever heard about the club.”

“Sorry, Buster, it is my business. Rob hasn’t shown up to teach his classes at the dojo. His girlfriend, Sofia, hasn’t heard from him in days.”

He pulled his mouth to one side. “They’re always arguing back and forth. And that brother of hers is a pain in the ass. Do you know he had the balls to storm in here and try to pick a fight with Rob? Robbie could have beat that kid into the ground. Instead, he stood there and let the punk take a couple of shots. One of the other guys finally restrained him.”

Interesting. I realized there was bad blood between the two men, but Franco must have been in a blind rage to try and attack Rob, especially here, with a gym full of fighters. “When did this happen?”

Buster’s eyes flitted down to his desk. “Like I said, I don’t get involved in my guys’ personal business. Don’t care what they do, as long as it doesn’t affect their training. You need to go now.” As he dismissed me, he waved his hand and a tall pile of papers went flying to the floor. Buster cursed and we both bent down to retrieve them.

I gathered them up on my side of the desk, and as I did I noticed a bank letter stating his home address with the words “Foreclosure—2
nd
Notice”
in bold font. I glanced up to make sure Buster wasn’t watching, then I stood and placed the untidy stack on his desk. From what I’d seen, the rest of the papers were bills or invoices. And there were dozens of them.

Buster’s gaze washed over me. “You still here?”

“Not for long. I just have one more question. How long has Rob been using steroids? And how many of your other fighters are doping? Whoops, guess that’s two questions.”

His face turned purple and his pale eyes bugged out. “You better get out of here before I really lose it.” He bounded to his feet and stalked to the door, wrenching the knob so hard I was surprised it didn’t break off in his hand. “Out! And don’t come back.”

Or what—he’d call the police? Unlikely. Have his guys rough me up? Maybe. I didn’t want to press my luck and find out.

I stood, hiking my purse onto my shoulder, and pulled a card from the outer pocket. “You obviously know more than you’re telling, Mr. Madison.” I laid it on his desk before crossing to the door. “When you’re ready to talk, give me a call.” I’d be holding my breath waiting for that to happen.

Buster said nothing as I left. Walking across the gym, I stopped to watch the fighters in the ring—heavyweights. Rob’s class. They traded punches that would have sent me into a coma. I shuddered and kept moving until I drew close to Roxy, who was deep in conversation with a cute, thuggish guy with three stars inked near his left eye. He worked a punching bag while she looked on. I didn’t see Sugar anywhere.

“You ready to go, Rox?” I cast a glance over my shoulder. Buster remained in the office doorway, arms crossed over his chest, giving me the evil eye. “I think I’ve worn out my welcome.”

“Rose, this is Carlos. He knows Rob pretty well.”

He was ultra-lean, not an ounce of fat on him, just solid muscle. “Hey, Carlos. Any clue where Rob might be?”

He flicked his eyes toward Buster, then lowered his head and gave the bag a swift jab. “Nah, man, I don’t know nothing.” After one more punch, he turned and strolled away.

“Was it something I said?”

Roxy popped her gum. “Most likely. Two weeks ago, Rob nearly lost a fight. First one in a long time. It got ugly. He pulled it out in the end and got a takedown, but he was beaten up pretty bad.”

“Who was he fighting?”

“Tyler something. Anyway, after the fight, Buster got in Rob’s face. He was yelling and screaming, waving his arms around like a nutjob. Rob pushed him away. And before you ask, Carlos doesn’t know what they were arguing about. No one does. But Buster’s been giving Rob the cold shoulder ever since.”

No wonder Buster didn’t want to answer my questions. He had a few secrets of his own. 

We made our way back to the double doors. “Where’s Sugar?”

“She slipped outside for a smoke. What did Buster have to say?”

I told her about Franco attacking Rob. “That’s all he gave me. For the most part, he was pretty cagey. He sure didn’t mention his argument with Rob. Oh, and Buster’s house is in foreclosure.”

Roxy whipped a tube of lip gloss out of her purse and dabbed it on. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m not sure. Just a point of interest.”

“You’re weird, Rose.”

Out front, we found Sugar with a cig between her fingers, and she wasn’t alone. One of the fighters stood facing away from her, bent over at the waist with his shorts down to his knees. Baring his ass. We’re talking full moon here, people.

She grinned when she saw us. “Hey girls, this is Jimmy Duncan. Come and see his new tat.” Oh God. “He got it done at Ink, Inc. You know I’m their spokesperson.”

“I recognized her right away from the bus stop posters,” Jimmy said.

Roxy grinned. “See, Rose? I told you Sugar was famous.” I didn’t quibble with her loose definition of the word.

We craned our heads to get a view of Jimmy’s butt. In the center of his right cheek was a tattoo of red lip prints, like a lipstick stain, and the words “Kiss this Tiffany.”

“Bad breakup?” I asked.

“Yeah. She cheated on me. What are you going to do?”
Get a humiliating and permanent reminder to commemorate the occasion, obviously.
He pulled up his shorts and turned to face us. Bare-chested and muscular, his face was a mass of green and purple bruises. Ouch.

“Jimmy,” I said, “do you know what Rob and Buster were fighting about a couple weeks ago?”

“No, but they nearly tore each other apart. Rob stepped out of the ring and Buster pounced on him. Started screaming until his face turned purple.” Yeah, that sounded like Buster. “No one knows why they had a beef. They’ve always been fine until that night.” He glanced at Sugar. “I gotta run. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then he walked back into the building.

I waited until the door slammed. “What’s tomorrow?”

Sugar flicked the cigarette on the ground. “It took a lot of flirting, but I got us an invite to the fight club. Tomorrow night at ten, but I don’t know where yet. Even the fighters don’t know where the match will take place. It’s in a different location every time. Jimmy’s going to call me once he gets there.”

“Awesome!” Roxy extended her hand, then she and Sugar wiggled their fingers together in a weird handshake. “You’re the shit.”

Sugar patted her hair and preened. “I know. Now I just need to plan my outfit. What are you going to wear, Rox?”

Once again, they discussed clothes, leaving me out of the conversation. Before we reached the car, Roxy bumped my arm. “See,” she whispered, “I told you bringing her along was a good idea.”

Well, she was going to get us into the fight club—which was more than I’d done. I hated to admit it, but Sugar de la Tarte was starting to grow on me. Like mildew. Really perky mildew.

Chapter 6

As we walked to the car, my phone rang. “Hey, Ax.”

“Rose, I need help, man. They’re trying to, like, foist these trendy clothes on me. I don’t know what looks good.”

“Where are you?”

He named the store.

“I’ll be right there.”

“What’s going on?” Roxy slipped on her heart-shaped sunglasses.

“Ax has a fashion emergency.”

Her brows climbed up her forehead. “Axton? Our Axton?”

“Yep. Mind if we stop by the mall? And while I’m there I could ask Sofia a few questions.”

“Who’s Axton?” Sugar asked.

We climbed into the car, and I tore away from the curb. “Axton’s my bud. He’s decided to upgrade his look. There’s this girl at work he’s crushing on.”

“About damn time,” Roxy said.

“No teasing him. He’s kind of prickly about it.”

“You know what, joy sucker? You never let me have any fun.”

Sugar laughed. “You two sound like an old married couple. It’s cute. Now, who’s Sofia?”

“Rob Huggins’ ex-fiancée,” I said. “She works at that cosmetics store on the upper level. I want to grill her, find out what she knew about Rob’s doping.”

Sugar disregarded her seatbelt, poking her head into the front seat. “Rox, do you know what I’m thinking? Makeover!”

Roxy eyed me. “Right? Rose, you could use a tszujing up.” She reached out and stroked my ponytail. “I wish we had time to put in some highlights.”

“Or low lights,” Sugar said. “You’re so pretty, Rose. You just need a little color.”

I jerked my head, tugging my ponytail from Roxy’s hand. “Forget it. I don’t have time.” They debated on whether I was a spring or a summer while I turned onto the highway.

On the drive, my eyes drifted to the rearview mirror, and I caught a glimpse of myself. The humidity had frizzed the ends of my hair. Maybe I could use a swipe of blush. I suddenly wondered if my lack of glamour bothered Sullivan. Maybe that’s why we never went out, because I wasn’t sophisticated enough. He never acted like it bothered him.

Why the hell was I being plagued by all these doubts lately? The key. It all started when I gave him that stupid freaking key to my apartment.

When we reached the mall, I snagged a decent parking spot near the main entrance. We walked—well, I walked, while Roxy and Sugar pranced—near a group of loitering teenage girls by the front door. They swiveled their heads and gawked at us.

“Cool shoes,” one called out.

Roxy and Sugar turned simultaneously. “Thank you,” they said in unison, then stopped and stared at each other.

“She was talking to me,” Sugar said, flexing her foot to show off the vintage wedged sandals.

“She totally meant me.” Roxy kicked up the heel of one red stacked Mary Jane.

I opened the door and shooed them inside. “She was talking to both of you. You’re equally fabulous. Let’s shake a leg.”

We circled the ground floor to the store Axton had mentioned, and I immediately knew I was in the right place. Stoner Joe stood in the display window, fondling a topless silver mannequin from behind. Oh dear God.

I knocked on the glass. “Get out of there, Joe.”

“You know him too?” Sugar asked.

“That’s Ax’s roommate,” I said.

Roxy rolled her eyes. “If he comes too close, hold your breath. He’s a stinky one.”

Entering the store, I breezed by graphic shirts and micro shorts, moving all the way to the back, where Axton stood. He gazed at himself in the mirror with a horrified expression. I didn’t blame him. Those pants were truly shiteous.

When Ax saw me, he turned and smiled with relief. Then he noticed Sugar, and his mouth popped open, like a hungry koi. “Uh…”

Roxy giggled, until I threw out a glare. “Sugar de la Tarte,” I said, “Axton Graystone.”

She offered her fingers. “Nice to meet you.”

He gulped and clutched her hand briefly. “Yeah. Uh-huh. You too.” He gripped my elbow and pulled me off to the side, next to a rack of swimsuits. “Why did you bring your hot friend? I look so stupid.”

I agreed. Silently. “I thought I told you to get distressed jeans. What the hell are you wearing?”

“That salesgirl”—he pointed over his shoulder to a woman around my age sporting oversized hipster glasses—“keeps steering me toward these. I can’t go walking around in orange pants, Rose.”

“No, you look like a pumpkin. Where’s the denim?” He led me to the men’s section. We rifled through the racks until we found a few pairs for him to try on. “This should get you started. Want me to hang around?”

His gaze slid in Sugar’s direction. “No, I’ve got it from here.” Grasping the jeans, he retreated to the dressing room.

“You guys ready to go?” I asked the girls.

When they nodded, I led the way out. We cut through the food court and hopped the escalator, gliding by kiosks and vibrating chairs.

Before entering the cosmetics store, I laid my hand on Roxy’s arm. “I’m going to ask Sofia some questions. Why don’t you two quiz the other employees, see if they know anything about Rob and Sofia’s relationship?”

“Yep,” Roxy said. “I’m on it.”

Sugar rubbed her lips together. “And I need another tube of matte red. I run through it like crazy.”

As we stepped inside and parted ways, an overzealous woman zeroed in on me like a laser beam. She wore bright purple lipstick and eyeshadow to match. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Sofia.”

“Sofia’s in skincare.” She pointed a magenta-tipped finger to the back of the store. “You sure I can’t give you a makeover? You could use a little color, sweetie.”

That seemed to be the popular opinion. “Not today, thanks.” I tripped toward the back of the store, pausing along the way to glance in a mirror. In this light, I did seem unnaturally pale. Not Dracula pale, but still. However, now was not the time for vanity, so I kept walking.

I found Sofia stocking large tubes of cleanser. “Hey.”

She appeared a little startled to see me. “What are you doing here?”

“We didn’t get to finish our talk last night. Have you heard from Rob?”

“No, and I’m getting worried. But I can’t talk to you here. My boss will throw a bitch fit.”

I surrendered, giving in to the inevitable. “How about doing my makeup while I ask you a few questions?”

“Good idea.” She dropped the cleanser and scanned my face. “Maybe a little bronzer, a little BB cream.”

I sighed. Long and hard. “Nothing crazy. I want to look natural.”

“You look natural now. You want better than natural. Follow me.” She led me to the side of the store and pointed to a chair in front of a large lighted mirror. I sat and squirmed as she threw a white cape around my shoulders. “I stopped by the police station to make a missing person report this morning. They said Rob’s an adult and there’s not much they can do.”

Same old tune, different day. “That’s why Kai contacted me in the first place. You need to go over to the condo and see if anything’s missing.”

Since I’d checked out his place, I already knew Rob’s car was gone and his steroids were in residence. But I couldn’t exactly tell her that.

“I’ll go after work.” She held an electric wand to my cheek. “Okay, this will give me a perfect color match for your skin.” When it beeped, she read the computer screen. “Hang on. I’m going to grab a few products.”

“Nothing too bright,” I reminded her. I glanced around the store and saw Roxy chatting with the Purple Princess. Sugar was in her own world, applying lipstick samples to the back of her hand.

When Sofia returned, she had an armful of makeup—boxes and bottles and pencils. “At first, I thought Rob hadn’t called because he was punishing me. But he wouldn’t shut me out for this long. Rob may not be the most attentive dad, but he loves Olivia. He wouldn’t go four days without checking on her. So what I’m saying is, I think he might be in real trouble.” She whipped out a brush from her tool belt and began applying sticky foundation to my forehead.

“Do you think his disappearance could have something to do with the fight club?”

“I don’t know. Close your eyes. Rob’s told me a little about the fights. The men who run the ring are serious players. There’s a lot of money tied up in the fighters. It’s not a game.”

I squinted one eye and cracked open the other. “Who, besides Will Carlucci, is in charge?”

She stopped brushing my cheek. “I honestly don’t know. Everyone thinks Carlucci is this nice guy, giving money to kids’ charities, serving the community. He’s not a nice guy. He’s an asshole,” she whispered, and resumed painting my face. “Rob is in Carlucci’s stable.”

“His stable?”

“I wasn’t telling you the whole story last night. But now…Carlucci pays for the condo and the Escalade.” I’d already figured out that much, but I always appreciated confirmation. “He takes care of Rob’s medical bills. But it’s not free. Carlucci
owns
Rob. That’s why Rob has to keep fighting. Rob can’t turn pro, because he can’t leave. He owes Carlucci too much money. Okay, open your eyes.”

“So there’s no way out?”

“There’s one way. Rob needs to win one hundred fights, and they’ll cut him loose. He’ll walk away with a quarter of a million bucks, and all of his debt will be wiped clean. He’s got ninety wins so far, and he can fight twice a night. If he keeps on this streak, he’ll be out in five or six months. He’s so close to freedom. Turning pro is all he talks about.”

“But you said his body can’t physically handle it.”

She worked foundation onto my chin. “Yeah, that’s just a pipe dream of his. I want him out of the MMA business altogether. Anyway, I’m not convinced Carlucci will let Rob go, even if he does get to the magic number.”

This Carlucci guy sounded like a crime lord, not a car salesman. “How did Rob get tied up in all this?”

“He always wanted to fight professionally, but he needed more training. He used to go to these sleazy bars and sign up to fight on Friday nights. Those were even more brutal, if you can believe it. No rules, no weight class, just fight until you knock out your opponent. Then Carlucci approached Rob. Said he’d sponsor Rob’s training and offered a better venue.” Next she blotted me with powder. “I don’t think Rob realized what he’d signed up for. Or maybe he did. I don’t know.”

“Then you had Olivia.”

She looked down at me, her brown eyes filled with sadness. “Yeah. And she became my world. But not Rob’s. Fighting is his life.”

I tried to imagine wanting something so much I’d sign over my entire future for it. Carlucci’s offer must have seemed like a lifeline at the time.

“I heard Rob might be taking steroids.” I phrased it as gently as I could and watched her reaction. She didn’t flinch. “Is Carlucci providing those as well?”

Sofia shrugged, turned to the counter, and grabbed two different blushes. She held them up to my cheeks. “I don’t know, but he was able to switch to the heavyweight division after he started taking them.”

“I’ve heard that a lot of fighters get addicted to pain meds—all those injuries.”

“Not Rob. Even through the worst pain, he likes to tough it out. His mom is an alcoholic, so he’s very sensitive to that type of thing. He rarely drinks, not even a beer.”

Yet I’d found all those pills stashed in Rob’s recovery powder. He was up-front with Sofia about the steroids and the fight club. There was no reason for him to hide an opiate addiction. Unless he was afraid she’d leave for good, which happened anyway. Something didn’t add up, and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Setting down the brush, Sofia leaned her hip against the counter. “He’s not the same guy I met five years ago. All those steroids make him moody. That’s one of the reasons I left for good this time. I have to be strong for Olivia.”

My heart went out to her. No matter how this turned out, whether I found Rob or not, I had a feeling Sofia was going to wind up raising Olivia by herself.

She’d been staring off in the distance, but now she blinked and took a deep breath. “Let’s do your eyes.” She grabbed a liner and rimmed my upper and lower lashes.

“When Rob gets hurt, who treats him?” I asked.

“There’s a doctor. Carlucci owns him too.”

“What’s his name?”

“Cadwell? Cardwell? Something like that. He basically stitches Rob up and sends him home.”

She brushed my lids with a taupey shadow, then used a little mascara. I stretched my facial muscles. All this makeup felt heavy, as though I were wearing a mask.

“Listen,” she whispered, so softly I had to lean forward to catch her words, “don’t tell anyone about all this, okay? I can’t have Carlucci coming after us.” She grasped my hand, crushing my fingers. “Rose, I need to know what happened to Rob. Not just for me, but for Olivia.”

“Of course. I’m going to do everything I can to track him down. I promise.” I felt the weight of that pledge settle over my shoulders, like a heavy mantle. I lied through my teeth on the regular and didn’t give it a second thought, but when I made a promise, I took it seriously.

“Sofia, I heard Franco went to Buster’s gym and took a few swings at Rob. Do you know why?”

“My brother means well, but he’s an idiot. He wants Rob to get a real job and start taking care of his responsibilities. This is the first I’ve heard about Franco confronting Rob at the gym, but I guess I’m not surprised.”

“What do you know about Buster Madison?”

“Not much. Rob likes him, respects him.”

Since they’d split a few weeks ago, Rob probably didn’t tell her about his argument with Buster. Damn. I just kept striking out. Hopefully I’d learn something at the fight club tomorrow night.

Sofia finished up with a touch of rosy lip gloss and stood back to view her work. “Wow, you’re gorgeous, Rose. Your eyes look big and bright and there’s color in your cheeks.” She stood aside, so I could see myself in the mirror. “What do you think?”

Even though she’d used a dozen products, I didn’t appear made up. Sure, my lashes were a little longer, my lips a bit shinier, but I looked like myself. Just way hotter. “What’s the least expensive thing I’m wearing? Whatever it is, I’ll take it.”

“Lip gloss. It’s less than forty.”

I nearly sputtered. “Dollars?”

“I’ll give you my employee discount. I’ll say you’re my cousin. Come on.”

I trailed after her to the counter and emptied my wallet of tip money. Looking natural wasn’t cheap.

Roxy and Sugar waited for me by the entrance.

Sugar captured my chin between her fingers and moved my head from side to side. “Beautiful. See, Rox, I told you she was a summer.”

Roxy shoved another piece of gum in her mouth. “So what’s the what? Did you find out anything from Sofia?”

I jerked my chin from Sugar’s hand. “I found a solid link between the fight club and Will Carlucci. And Sofia made a police report.”

“Fat lot of good that will do her.”

Sugar gazed between the two of us. “Won’t the cops look for him? I mean, if the fiancée says he’s missing, won’t they have to take it seriously?”

Roxy gave her a pitying look. “You’ve never dealt with Huntingford’s finest, have you?”

“Only when I get stopped for speeding. I’ve never gotten a ticket, though.” She strutted off, checking her phone as she walked.

Roxy inspected my face. “You look really pretty. Not that you need all that stuff. You look good without it.”

I grinned at her. “Aw, thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited. It’s not like I proposed or anything.”