Thank you to all the amateur sleuths who put their skills to work solving the mystery in my  short story Gone in a Flash. Many of you guessed correctly that the culprit was Bolt, the pug. Now the only mystery that remains is how long Elizabeth and her cousins are going to have to tag along behind Bolt to recover the costly engagement ring. Heh-heh. 

Per the stated rules, the winner was randomly chosen. I’m pleased to announce the winner of the $100 Amazon gift card is Kimberley Coover. Congratulations, Kimberley! And happy reading!!!

I want to thank everyone who participated in the reader-solve element. We had lots of entries, and many of you guessed right. I’ll post the winner’s name in a separate post. For now, read on for the solution!

Episode 5 – The Conclusion of Gone in a Flash

“That’s amazing, Dix Dodd,” a light and lyrical female voice sang out. “You’re the most amazing private investigator ever. Like, ever. How do you do it? They should build a monument to you in downtown Marport—”

“God, Dix,” Elizabeth said. “Quit doing that with your voice.”

Yes, that voice ringing out was mine. Humble’s overrated. So are low-riding skinny jeans, but that doesn’t matter right now.

I got the twerking sisters to set themselves back on one of the sofas. Alyssa sat down beside Elizabeth. Rochelle stood by the door, looking more amused than anxious to leave. Dickhead stood beside her.

“This’ll just take a couple minutes,” I said.

“Go for it, Dix,” Rochelle said.

As much as Rochelle and I love to tease each other, we’re always in each other’s corner—but that’s women for you.

“Should I be taking notes?” Richard said.

“No, I think the twerking lessons are done for the day.”               

He ground his teeth in that delightful way.

“What I meant was, if charges are going to be brought—”

“I knew what you meant.” I turned to the bride-to-be. “Elizabeth, that was one hell of a ring Hugh bought you. I’m guessing he paid … a few grand.”

She cast me a disbelieving look. “Try a hundred grand. That diamond is four and a quarter carats!”

“Oh, that’s right,” I said. “And, clever you, already having it insured.”

“Dix, if you’re going to accuse me of stealing my own—”

I held up my hands in a stopping gesture—because, hey, this was my thunder. “Of hiding the ring to claim the insurance money? Tucking away the original? Was that what you were going to say?”

“That’s a crime.” Richard said. Whoa, genius cop in the house.

“Ohhhh, ladies,” I said. “He even sounds like a real cop.”

“First one to touch that music gets arrested,” Head proclaimed.

Shelby spoke up. “Handcuffs and everything?” She sounded tempted.

“Ah, more shiny for your bling collection, Shelby?” I said. “Another bangle for your wrist. I’m guessing you’re always looking to add a bit more jewelry to that collection. Like say, a nice ring…”

“Whoa!” Shelby said, suddenly sober-ish. “I wear the costume stuff. And yes, I like it, but there’s no way I’d steal anything—especially not my cousin’s engagement ring.”

I turned to her sister. “What about you, Rhianna?”

“Come on, Dix! You think I stole the ring? Impossible!”

“You were the one who gathered all our coats, tossed them onto the bed. You were the keeper of the ring.”

“Right,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I stole it. Every one of us was in that room at some point, even if it was just to explore the suite, or chasing after that dog or fixing their make-up.”

“That’s true.” I took a bead on Alyssa. “Even you. Alyssa.”           

“This is getting juvenile,” she said. “First I get strong-armed by Kenny into attending this bachelorette party. Then it turns into some sort of … organized crime thing.”

“Geez, what’s up your ass?” Rhianna said. “That was totally rude.”

“I know what’s up her ass,” I said. “Salmon, beef, or duck.”

Ohhh, gross! That didn’t sound right even to me.

“Wait … those are the menu choices for my wedding!” Elizabeth said.

Having already gotten my invite, I knew that.

“Are you going somewhere with this?” Dickhead asked.               

“Indeed I am.” I turned back to Alyssa. “You never did want to come to this party—you’ve made that clear.” The rest of it, I guessed. “And you sure as hell would rather be spending next weekend with Slash than working for your brother catering Elizabeth’s wedding.”

“You listened in on my phone call!” she accused, her expression cold … like it was a bad thing.

“Listened in on your call and heard you complaining about your sore throat every chance you got. But when Rhianna offered you a lozenge earlier, you didn’t take one.” I repeated that last part for emphasis. “You didn’t take one.”

Elizabeth’s patience was wearing thin. “So what? She didn’t take one.”

“So I’m guessing Rhianna shoved them back into her pocket,” I said. “With that diamond ring.”

“That’s right,” Rhianna said. “I put them in my coat pocket and—oh shit! When we searched the coats they were gone.”

Ah yes, there it was, that dawning of understanding that was about to —

“Someone stole my lozenges too!” she said. “We have two thefts on our hands.”

Okay, maybe not so much with the dawning.

“Um, not quite,” I said.

It was then that Bolt decided to rejoin our party. He was moving even slower than his normal saunter, and he bypassed every single leg and hump-able cushion. The dog sat down at Shelby’s feet and started whining.  He looked up at her with anxious eyes.  Make that, anxious, guilty eyes.

“Soon, Bolt,” Shelby said. “Walkies in a minute.”

“Okay, time to cut the bullshit, Dix Dodd.” Elizabeth snapped. “Did someone here take my ring or not?”

“Yes,” I said. “He did.”

He?

All eyes went to Richard Head, whose eyebrows soared. “May I remind you all that I just got here?”

“I wasn’t talking about Detective Head,” I said. “I’m talking about a four-legged thief: Bolt.”

“What? Why the hell would Bolt take a diamond ring? What would he do with it?” Shelby looked confused. Oh hell, everyone looked confused.

So I explained.

“Rhianna you offered Alyssa some throat lozenges.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “So what?”

“You shoved them back into your pocket. And Bolt—being a dog,” I  glanced at Dickhead. “A boy dog—helped himself to what he must have thought was a tasty treat. Typical male: either you hump it or—”

“Ah,” Rochelle said. “I had a pack of gummies in my pocket. They’re gone now too.”

“That would explain the soggy twenty you gave me,” I said. “When he was snuffling around and digging out the gummies, he got the money wet.”

“Oh damn.” Elbows on knees, Elizabeth lowered her head in her hands. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

I was indeed. “Bolt ate the lozenges right out of Rhianna’s pocket, and the ring along with them. He’s the jewel thief.” I smiled in that I’m-so-smart/wait-for-it way. “That’s right, folks. It’s a diamond in the ruff.”

Elizabeth groaned all the louder.

Rochelle and Richard were waiting outside the hotel with me when Dylan pulled up in the SUV. I was very glad of the change in mode of transportation. I said goodnight to my bestie and her beau, then hopped in the vehicle. I glanced over at his conspicuously western attire. He must have raided a tack shop. He wore a blue plaid snap fastened western shirt, his regular jeans and a pair of ancient, scuffed cowboy boots he’d either dragged out of a closet or snagged at the Sally Ann.

“Howdy, ma’am,” Dylan drawled. “I’m West. West Texas. I just rode into town and am looking for the right woman to share my bunk tonight.”

“Well, handsome, I think we can arrange something.”

He grinned at me. “Fun night?”

Yeah, it had been a fun night. Any time I get to drink up, solve a case, and eat cake, I’m happy.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Dix.”

“Ha ha, you said Dix.”

He didn’t get it.

“You said my name. That means you have to kiss me.”

Dylan looked skeptical. Pleased, but skeptical. “Are you sure that’s how the game goes.”

“It is now, Dyl … I mean, West.”

He pulled me into his arms and I went up on tiptoes to meet his lips. Damn, he was good at this. We were good at this.

I broke the kiss and burrowed against his chest. He smelled so good, so masculine, and I loved feeling the heavy thudding of his heart beneath my ear. I smile.

“What the hell?” he said.

I pulled back. “What?”

“Over there.” He gestured with a nod of his head.

I turned to see a masked man in a flowing black cape walking into the building.

“It’s about time,” I mumbled.

Dylan looked at me with a smirk on his face.

“That’s right,” I said. “This is a job for Stripper Man. Or rather, it was a job for stripper man.”

The problem was, he’d lost his audience. No, not just me and Rochelle, but Elizabeth and the rest of the gals. They were currently out there with flashlights borrowed from hotel security, walking Bolt around the hotel parking lot, waiting for him to do his business. Oh, I suspected they’d be doing that for a day or two.

Strangest bachelorette ever.

“Want to head back in?” Dylan said. “You could have Stripper Man all to yourself while Bolt does his business.”

“Hmm.” I tilted my head as if considering. “That’s a generous offer, but I’m in the mood for some cowboy company tonight. Think you can smuggle me into your bunkhouse?”

“Oh, I think we can manage that, Dix.”

“Ha! You said my name again.”

“I did indeed.”

He kissed me and I shivered.

“You know,” I said huskily, “I think the rules are that you have to kiss me somewhere different every time you say it.”

Smiling, he leaned in close to say my name again. And again and again.

* * * * *

So there you have it, folks. Bolt ate the diamond ring. For those of you who guessed right, check back for a post announcing the winner. 

For everyone who played, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this little short story. If you want to try something longer, The Case of the Flashing Fashion Queen (Book 1 in the Dix Dodd Series) is currently free on all platforms.

Episode 4 – Gone in a Flash

Alyssa’s cell phone rang. She set her glass down, stood and moved away from the group before she even looked at the call display.

I couldn’t help but notice that for a gal who clearly didn’t want to be here, she’d certainly taken care with her appearance. Her dress wasn’t as short as Elizabeth’s or as shiny as Rhianna’s, but it was a bona fide party dress—black, short, high neck on the front and completely backless. She’d put her blond hair up to better showcase her amazing back, which was almost completely barren of back fat. A back which she now turned to us as she answered the phone with a happy, “Hey, you.”

Nosy much? Who me? Damned right.

“I told him,” Alyssa said. Then, moving further away, “Kenny never listens to me! He thinks—dammit, Slash, I told you I was trying to get out of it.” Alyssa pivoted, saw me looking, then turned her back to us again. She lowered her voice.

“Can he play guitar and sing?”

I looked over at Shelby. She was busy twisting the rings on her left hand, stone forward, again. “Who?”

“West Texas.”

“Ummm…”

“Your boyfriend.”

”No!” Rochelle shouted almost as loudly as I had. “For the love of all things holy, never ask that man to sing.”

Totally a gut reaction—completely out of fear. Dylan Foreman still didn’t know he was the most horrific singer ever. I mean, think screeching cat.

Elizabeth grinned. “So Dyl—I mean West—still has no clue how bad he is, Dix?”

I smiled. “You said my name.”

Her smile was back as she refilled her champagne flute. But it was a cunning smile, slight and tight and from the eyes.

Whatever the case, one thing for certain—Elizabeth Bee was in control of things.  If I knew Elizabeth Bee like I thought I did, nothing would come between her and that altar and her mega-rich husband.

Alyssa ended the call. She tucked the phone away in her tiny purse, and walked to the suite’s large window, which afforded a beautiful view of Marport City at night. She studied it quietly.

Which was the only quiet in the room.

“Does he have any cowboy friends?” Shelby asked me. “Oh, oh, or cowboy brothers with shining belt buckles?” She leaned toward Dix and said, confidingly, “I just love shiny things. The more sparkly, the better.”

“Amen,” Rhianna said. The sisters clinked their glasses together.

All drinks went down when there was a hard—definitely manly—rap-rap-rap on the door.

“It’s the stripper!” Shelby said. “Finally!”

Yes! That was another reason I’d told Dylan to give me an hour. I was anxious to see this guy.  

Before I could jump up and open the door, Rochelle did. Oh yeah, that champagne was hitting the spot with her too.

“Gals,” Rochelle said. “Get ready to get your freak–”

Oops. Again no stripper at the door. Rochelle opened the door to her boyfriend, Detective Richard Head. AKA: Dick Head. My nemesis. Pseudo-nemesis … we were at least civil to each other now that he and Rochelle were seeing each other. Well, mostly civil.

Alyssa rejoined the party.

“Oh yummy,” Rhianna cooed. “This one’s just as hot as the last.”

What the hell?

“Ha, in your face, Dix Dodd!” Clearly, Rochelle was happy with Rhianna’s misguided vote.

Okay, he was good looking, had a nice body if you went in for that bulky muscle thing, but as hot as my cowboy?               

Not!

The look on Detective Richard Head’s face was a mixture of confused and flattered. “Hey, there’s been a mistake here,” he said, smiling. “I’m not a stripper. I’m a detective.”

“That’s right,” I shouted. “I told them to send Cop stripper.”

This time it was me who snapped the iPod to life, and in a flash, we were all up dancing—shimming and shaking. Then we started clapping our hands (even Rochelle). Someone took up chanting, “Take it off, take it off!”

Okay, that was me.

“Shut off that music now,” Dickhead said.

Alyssa—the wimp!—complied.

“Look, ladies, I really am a detective with the Marport City Police.”

No one looked completely convinced. Dickhead looked to Rochelle in a silent plea for help.

“Show them your badge,” she suggested.

“Right.” Head pulled out the shiny shield.

I gasped. “Why, it looks almost like the real thing!” I turned the music back on. We were dancing again. Rhianna and Shelby had taken up twerking. I felt like placing a bet on who’d fall right over—drunken Rhianna, or bling-heavy Shelby—as they bent and ground and wiggled against Detective Richard Head.

“Twenty on Shelby,” Rochelle mouthed. Clearly she’d been thinking the same thing I had been.

I nodded. “I got Rhianna.”

Two seconds later, Rhianna hit the floor.

“Yes!” I shouted.

Shelby was down right after her, and the girls were consumed in laughter.

Elizabeth killed the music. “Guys,” she said. “I hate to kill the fun, but the guy really is a cop.”

“Show me your big gun then!” Rhianna said.

Well that would definitely perk up the night…

Head sighed his exasperation. “Can we please just go, Rochelle?”

She was all smiles as she gave him a quick kiss on that chiseled face of his.

Damn, he would make a nice stripper cop.

“I’ll get my bag,” Rochelle said. “Ladies, it’s been a blast. Elizabeth, big congratulations.”

Elizabeth looked pleased with Rochelle’s genuine remark.

Rochelle grabbed her purse from the end of the couch, then scooted into the bedroom for her coat. She pulled a twenty from her pocket and handed it over—a damp twenty.

What the hell?

The tingle that went through me then was head to toe. Okay, there was something I was supposed to notice here—something I was supposed to be putting together.

“My ring is still missing,” Elizabeth said.

“And I hope you find it,” Rochelle said, smiling, as she slid into her coat. “But I’m leaving.”

Elizabeth did not look pleased.

“You can’t really expect us all to stay until it’s found,” Alyssa said. “And you said yourself that the insurance would cover things if it goes missing.”

“Missing or stolen,” Elizabeth said accusingly.

Detective Head had been in the process of opening the door. He closed it again. “What’s this about stolen?”     

Oh great, now go into real cop mode. What? Stripper cop too good for him?

Someone had some explaining to do.

Well, luckily (for everyone), that someone was me.

“I know exactly what happened to that diamond engagement ring,” I said.

The room went completely silent as everyone turned toward me. No one looked more surprised by my proclamation than Elizabeth Bee herself. 

That’s all you get! Email me with your final guess by Tuesday, March 11, 2014, and you could win the big prize. Or possibly you might have to settle just for the glory of being right. Look for the answer in the final post on Mach 12.

My email address again is dix@dixdodd.com.

Episode 3 – Gone in a Flash

No Elizabeth didn’t come right out and say someone stole the ring. And also, no, there wasn’t a chance in hell of her keeping me here if I really wanted to leave. I can safely guarantee that went for Rochelle too.

The cousins got a little pouty.

But here’s the thing—I didn’t want to leave. Not just because we were waiting on the stripper (the totally ripped, awesome stripper, thanks to me), but because I was more than curious. Where the heck had that ring gone?

At least things were swinging back to a bit of fun. Though everyone seemed to be keeping their eyes peeled for the ring as we chatted away, made jokes, ate around Bieber’s hairless chest.

Then Rhianna was suddenly hit with a notion: Why don’t we let go, and let it come back. Trust the universe to bring that ring back to Elizabeth.

Dix Dodd is here—make way for the hero! She’ll find the diamond ring for us!

Okay, that second part is not exactly what Rhianna said, but hey, we all knew that was what she meant.

There was a knock at the door.

“Finally!” Rochelle said. “Bring on the stripper man!”

Shelby squealed. “I hope he’s hot. Like fireman hot!”

I jumped up to answer the door. If there’s one thing I’m good at … wait, there are so many things I’m good at…

“Nope, not a fireman, but definitely H.O.T.” In full dramatic wait-and-see mode, I held the door open wide. “Ladies, may I present–”

I pulled the door wide.

“Dylan?” Oh shit, that’s right—the pigs-in-a-blanket.

Elizabeth took one look and snorted into her freshly topped-off champagne glass—she knew Dylan. As did Rochelle. But Alyssa, Rhianna and Shelby had never met my PI partner, the tall and handsome Dylan Foreman.

“Oooooh!”Shelby grinned widely. “You went for the cowboy stripper! Oh, ride em’, cowboy—giddy up!”

Cowboy? They thought my boyfriend was a freakin’ cowboy?

Well, all right!

It was the motorcycle chaps, of course. He must have ridden over on the bike. Shelby must have thought they were for riding—

“I’m the range! I’m the range!” She shouted, laughing.

Yeah, that.

Rochelle reached and snapped to life the iPod on the table, and the unmistakable beat of stripper music filled the hotel suite.

“Pole dance for us!” Rhianna shouted as she jumped to her feet and started to shimmy-shudder up toward my boyfriend.

“This is a hotel suite, not a bar,” Alyssa said. “There’s no pole here.”

“No pole here?” Rhianna glanced south. “Well there’s a challenge if I ever heard one.” She stared at Dylan like she meant to take up that challenge.

Dylan held the tray of food protectively in front of him. Then I held something protectively in front of him.

Me.

“Sorry to disappoint, ladies,” I said, though frankly I was thrilled to disappoint. “But this isn’t the stripper. This is my boyfriend … West. West Texas. Bull rider. Ranch owner.”

I glanced up at Dylan—and appreciated the smirk on his face. Oh good—he’d play along. “Why, howdy ladies,” he drawled.

Wow! If we put all those sighs and shudders together, would we have a complete orgasm? Ah, me and math.

“Give me a break!” Elizabeth said. But at least she was smiling.

“Oh you poor baby–”Rhianna said, advancing still.

“Did I mention he’s my lonely cowboy? Yes, yes, I think I did.”

Rhianna stopped dead in her tracks.

“Lucky you.” She grabbed the food tray from Dylan, turned on her heel, and rejoined the others in the center of the suite.

I stood by the door with Dylan. 

“Thanks for that,” I whispered.

“No problem,” Dylan said, his tone low. “But do you think you might have oversold that cowboy thing, Dix?”

Hmmm, oversold…? I’d barely started. Loudly enough for all to hear, I said, “What’s that, West? You’ve been longing for the comfort of a woman in your arms for how long?”

Astute guy that he was, he rolled with it. “You’re right, Miss Dix. I’m powerful lonesome after that long … um … trail ride.”

“Oh, poor, lonesome cowboy. Is there anything I can do to ease or comfort you?”

His eyes glinted, and it was only partly humor. “I can think of a few things.”

I batted my eyes at him.

To the delight of the girls, he lifted me off my feet and hauled me outside the hotel room, closing the door behind him. Then he kissed me silly in the hallway, the squeals and hoots of the girls clearly audible through the door.

When he turned me loose, I’m pretty sure my eyes had a sparkle of their own.

“Can you get away early?”

Could I ever. I looked at my watch. I knew Rochelle was determined to be out by eleven, with or without Elizabeth’s blessing, and that was close to an hour away. “Come back in an hour.” I knew I’d be drinking so hadn’t brought my car. I had planned on calling a cab, but this worked better.

Dylan thought so too.

“See you later, cowboy,” I breathed into his ear.

“See you later, Miss Dix.”

Damn, that sounded hot.

He rapped on the door, then smiled down at me. When Rhianna yanked the door open, the other gals, including Rochelle, were right behind her. “Evening, ladies.” With a nod, he ambled off, doing his best cowboy impression. It was pretty damned good.

Rhianna hauled me inside. “Damn, girl, where did you find him?”

I smiled mysteriously, tugging the hem of my dress, which seemed to have crept up from all that action, back down to a more modest level. “You know, some gin joint.”

“Gin joint?” Rochelle snorted. “Wrong genre, Dix. Saloon, maybe.” To the other girls, she said, “He’s her PI partner.”

“Partner with benefits, I presume?” Shelby asked.

I smiled wider, but now that Dylan had left, they’d lost interest.

“When’s the stripper coming?” Rhianna asked.

She and Shelby made their way back to the sofa, Rochelle went to uncork another bottle of champagne, and Elizabeth plunked herself in a big wingback chair. I took a seat on one of a matched set of white leather club chairs.

Bolt headed for the sofa. I expected him to jump up between Rhianna and Shelby, but he didn’t. Hell, maybe he couldn’t jump that high. He was a little … stout. He heaved himself up so his front paws rested on the sofa and looked expectantly at Shelby. She set a foot under his puggly little butt, and with what had to be a practiced lift, helped him up onto the couch. Bolt turned around in three clockwise circles before he settled on the cushion. Then he stared at me.

We had a moment.

And in that moment—niggle, niggle—my intuition kicked in. But kicked in on what? I knew I had to pay attention.

Was Bolt trying to tell me something? About Rhianna? Shelby?

Okay, yes, I was a little tipsy. I don’t usually look to canine conversation, but the way that dog eyed me as he sat there with Rhianna on one side and her sister, Shelby, on the other was … well, strange.

Don’t get me wrong—I do love dongs, I mean dogs. But it was more than that. As Bolt sat there between these two sisters, why did I get that intuitive nudge? Had Rhianna actually stolen the ring, then cried to me that it was missing, hoping to draw me into her corner? Or had bling-crazy Shelby snagged it?

I broke eye contact with Bolt (okay, but he blinked first) only to find that Shelby was looking at me. Hard. Then, quick as anything, she broke into smiles and giggles again.

Weird.

I glanced over at Rochelle. She’d refilled her champagne flute and was leaning back in a wingback chair that matched Elizabeth’s. She had her head back, eyes closed. Not asleep, but really enjoying the champagne. And I hope enjoying the night, despite the ring fiasco. She did come as a favor to me, after all.

“Good choice on the champagne, Rochelle,” I said. “It’s really–”

“Ha, ha, you said her name!” Rhianna was delighted to point this out.

“Oh … okay.”

I tipped up my champagne glass and drained it.

Rochelle opened her eyes. “It’s easy to select excellent champagne when someone else is paying.” She leaned in to take one of the hors d’oeuvres Dylan had brought. “These are great, ladies,” she told the others. “As good as the stuff the hotel sent up.”

I made a mental note. Don’t tell Dylan the party was catered by the hotel. He might get the idea I’d asked him to do bring the pigs-in-a-blanket just so I could show him off. Which I totally did.

“Hey, they are good,” Rhianna said.

And I had to wonder: Hey, why wasn’t I eating?

I grabbed a napkin imprinted with DRINK UP, BITCHES! and piled a half dozen of the treats Dylan made onto it.

And then there were four pigs-in-a-blanket.

“Hey!”

Just that quickly—and yeah, I do mean quickly—Bolt had jumped down from the couch, dashed past my chair, and grabbed two of the treats right off the napkin. He ran into the bedroom with his booty, and with a might bound, actually managed to leap onto the bed. What a little actor! He could have easily jumped onto the sofa, which was much lower than the bed.

Bolt lay down with his stolen goodies and looked at me.

What are you trying to tell me, little doggy? Well, besides the fact that you really can jump. And that everyone likes pigs-in-a-blanket.

GONE IN A FLASH – EPISODE 2 OF 5

Needless to say the drinking game was suspended.

Well, the game part anyway.

I’d thought Rhianna had been fa-reaking out. Her mini-hysterics were nothing compared to Elizabeth’s major ones. “That’s a four and one-quarter carat, emerald-cut diamond ring in a platinum setting!” She wasn’t only freaking out at Rhianna (though the redhead was getting the brunt of it), but at all of us. As if collectively we were responsible.

Or as if one of us had taken it.

And unfortunately, that was a possibility. But who? I looked around the room.

Rochelle? Pfft? Not in a million years. But I couldn’t vouch so assuredly for Alyssa, Shelby and Rhianna. Hell, I couldn’t even really vouch for Elizabeth.

We spent the next thirty minutes looking everywhere in that suite: the bedroom, our purses, pockets and sleeves. I myself searched the cushions on the sofa and chairs. Shelby and Rhianna cleaned out the minibar in case it had fallen in. The ice bucket was checked. The pillow cases. Alyssa looked under the bed and every other piece of furniture.

Nada.

Suffice it to say, the mood of Elizabeth’s bachelorette party had definitely gone downhill.

How sad was it? Someone had actually used their finger to draw a sad face on Cake Bieb. I licked the icing off said finger, and was glad that it was mine.

Um, did I mention we were still drinking?

“Well that was a waste of time,” Shelby said.

“I think there must be dust under the sofa,” Alyssa said. “My throat’s even sorer now.”

“I told you I had lozenges,” Rhianna said. “If you wanted–”

She shook her head.

“Oh crap, boy! Not here!” Shelby said.

I looked down to see Rhianna’s little pug going at the pillow again.

Bolt reluctantly disengaged when she wagged a finger in his face. She picked the pillow up (so carefully at the edges) and flicked it toward a corner of the room, away from guests. Bolt gave her a look of disdain, then bolted right after the flying cushion. Well, as much as Bolt ever seemed to bolt. Which is to say he yawned, scratched himself, sniffed his butt, then moseyed over to the corner.

Yep, definitely a boy dog.

At least the pillow should keep him busy for a while.

I watched as Shelby sat back again and readjusted herself. You’d think one good shake and it would all go back into place. Don’t get me wrong, I love my bling. Bring it on. But there was a fine line between rocking it and wearing too much. Shelby Bee was leaning into Mr. T territory. I could barely discern the leopard pattern of her figure hugging tank top beneath the glitter.

“The ring is insured, isn’t it?” Alyssa asked suddenly. “I mean … you’ll just get a new one, right?”

Elizabeth sniffed. “Of course it’s insured.”

That didn’t surprise me. This was Elizabeth Bee we were talking about—for all her faults she was a pretty savvy character.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Rochelle pushed herself up off the sofa and strode toward the oversized ice bucket. “If the ring has to be replaced, it can be. I know that would suck, but it could be so much worse.”

Ah, good old Rochelle, dispensing logic. Logic and liquor … the combination of champions! She selected one of several bottles of excellent champagne from the ice bath it had been chilling in, uncorked it, and started pouring for each of us.

“I still don’t want to lose the ring,” Elizabeth said. “Hugh will not be impressed.”

Hugh Drammen, the geriatric groom-to-be. No, I didn’t imagine he would be thrilled about the missing ring, or with the explanation as to why it went missing in the first place. The whole ‘keeper’ thing. He’d want to know why Elizabeth felt it necessary to remove the ring.

“Oh, no.” Alyssa sat forward as she spoke. “He wouldn’t cancel the wedding or anything, would he? I mean, Kenny’s got a lot of money tied up in this. Food and drinks ordered. He everyone on staff has to work that day—no exceptions.”

Elizabeth groaned. “God, Alyssa! What a thing to say. Of course he won’t cancel the wedding.”

Alyssa opened her mouth to protest when Rhianna cut in with an elbow jab to Elizabeth. “You said her name—” She pointed at Alyssa. “Drink up.”

Elizabeth paused for a moment before she reached for the small glass Rochelle had poured. Then she downed it like a pro. Or like someone who meant business. “I’m sure the ring will turn up. I walked in with it—I’ll walk out with it. And no one is leaving here until I do just that.”

She gave us all the hairy eyeball stare. Gross.

“Yes, drink up, ladies,” Elizabeth said. “It’s going to be a long night.”