Page 31 of A Little Luck
CHAPTER7
PIPER
“It’s my luck, as usual.” I’m standing at the door to Britt and Aiden’s house.
“You should’ve seen it! The toilet came straight through the living room ceiling.” Ryan has his backpack on his shoulder and Fudge in his arms.
Owen is beside him with wide eyes. “Sounds likegoodluck nobody was on that toilet when it happened!”
Britt covers her smile with her hand, and clearly she’s getting over her morning sickness—or her around-the-clock sickness. I haven’t seen her laugh in weeks.
“I’d offer to let you take the guest room, but Aunt Pearl is here for the wedding.”
“It’s okay. I appreciate y’all keeping Ryan. I can stay at the apartment in town until we get someone to fix the house.”
“Ryan is no trouble at all. I don’t know about this cat…”
“Oh, Fudge.” My nose wrinkles, and I hear it as soon as I say it. “Just leave him outside. He’ll be okay.”
Britt shakes her head, handing me the keys to the building that houses her mother’s Star Parlor as well as the upstairs studio apartment where she lived before she married Aiden. “You can stay as long as you need to. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” I give her a hug and head for town.
Britt, Cass, and I have spent many nights in that old apartment having girls’ nights, bachelorette parties, and sleepovers. It was the one place we could go when all of our mothers or grumpy old aunts were driving us crazy, and I know it well.
Walking up the short street in the dark, I use the key Britt gave me to unlock the glass front door. The entrance to her mother’s tarot studio is immediately to the left, and a flight of stairs leads to the apartment.
It’s late, and I’m tired. I slide my fingers over the door to the Star Parlor, where Britt’s extra key is hidden, then I jog up the stairs and quickly unlock the door, ready to head inside and crash.
I’ve just got the door open when a low, gravelly voice stops me in my tracks. “Not one more step. I have a gun, and it’s pointed at your liver.”
“Don’t shoot!” I yell, throwing up my hands.
The light switches on, and I drop all my stuff. A stout, older man stands in front of me in nothing but a T-shirt and thin, cotton boxer shorts. His light brown hair is messy, and his thick brow lowers over small, squinty eyes.
It only takes a second for me to realize it’s the Columbo guy from the town forum.
“What are you doing here?” He’s flustered and irritated, and I’m pretty much the same.
“I’m spending the night here!” Or at least, that was the plan. “I’m friends with Britt Bailey… I mean, Stone! She said I could stay here. Who are you?”
The click of a gun uncocking helps me relax a tiny bit. I’m not thrilled this guy is packing, but he exhales a noise and walks over to put the gun in a holster hanging on the bedpost.
“Well, this is a fine mess,” he grumbles, going into the bathroom.
“Are you a cop?”
He returns in one of Britt’s old robes, and now he’s standing across the room from me wearing pink terry cloth with bright yellow flowers on the pockets.
“I’m a private detective. The nice lady downstairs said this apartment was empty. She rented it to me for the month.”
My shoulders drop. “Just my luck again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I had a plumbing disaster at my house, and we had to shut off the water. Britt said I could stay here until we get it fixed.”
“Well, there’s only one bed, and I already paid for it,” he growls. “You know, that fella might be a jerk running a dog for mayor, but he has a point. There aren’t any places to stay in this town if you don’t know somebody.”