“Honey, it’s the ’80s. You need to find yourself a woman who can hold your hand in public, not one who calls you her ‘friend’ and keeps you away from her boss. You don’t need that kinda heartache. You think it’ll be OK, but it won’t, trust me. It starts to eat away at you.”
FBI Agent Clara Hunter might not be girlfriend material, but as Red soon discovers, if you have a serial killer on your heels she is just the woman you want in your life!
Book 3 of the Magic Mirror collection takes Red Riding Hood, and tells it in a way only C H Clepitt can!
Clara took a deep breath before entering Aphrodite’s Bar. She hoped no one would recognise her from the night before. It was lunchtime. Different staff, hopefully. The woman behind the bar wore stone washed jeans with braces, a fitted white vest and sported a mohawk and nose ring that told the world not to mess with her.
“Help you folks?” She asked suspiciously as Clara and Marty walked in.
“FBI, honey,” Marty flicked out his badge with a flourish. He liked to pretend he was in a movie. “I’m Agent Keating, this is Agent Hunter.”
“We’re up to code,” the woman bristled. “Wanna see our liquor license?”
“Oh, no!” Clara moved forward in front of Marty. “It’s nothing like that…”
Just then she was interrupted by Red bustling in from the back room running her fingers hurriedly through her hair as she did so.
“Sorry, Jill,” she was distracted. “You know how Nanna is, I couldn’t get away!” She spotted Clara and stopped dead.
“You work here too?” Clara asked awkwardly.
“Need to keep up with the rent…” Red glanced between Clara and Marty uncomfortably.
“Knew I wasn’t losing my touch!” Marty grinned and elbowed Clara.
“Right,” she smiled awkwardly at him. “Sure does explain it.” She turned her attention to Jill. “You do bar snacks?”
“Wings,” Jill sounded baffled. “We do spicy Buffalo wings…”
“Great, we’ll order some wings and I’ll have a club soda,” she glanced at Marty who nodded. “Two club sodas and then maybe we could have a chat?”
“You have the best ideas!” Marty kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll grab that table there,” he indicated a small round table by the entrance, “and people watch. You do the interview.”
“You got it.” Clara pulled up a bar stool.
“I’ll get on that,” Jill opened two bottles of soda against the bar and poured them into glasses simultaneously. “Red can answer any questions you have.” She came out from behind the bar and crossed to where Marty had positioned himself, put his drink in front of him and headed to the kitchen.
“Official business?” Red asked as she glanced awkwardly across the room to Marty, who was studying the street.
“Yeah, it could be serious.” Clara lifted her briefcase onto the bar and unclipped it. Reaching in, she withdrew the photographs of the victims. “Do you know any of these women? Have they been in here at all?”
Red looked at the pictures curiously. “They in trouble?”