Double Strike (A Davis Way Crime Caper Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

breakfast table to her left behind a newspaper. The bulk of the noise was coming from down, where my grandmother and my niece, Riley, were singing along with the soundtrack of The Little Mermaid on the television, set at a volume guaranteed to make it through the sands of time filling Granny’s ears. My mother was also down, at the desk, in one corner of the living room, and Anne Cole, my future mother-in-law, was sitting in a wingback chair in the opposite corner, as far away from my mother as possible. My mother was staring out the window. Anne Cole was staring at a wall. Both mouths were thin, straight lines, both had a foot going ninety-miles an hour, and all four fists were balled. I caught my sister’s eye. She twirled a finger around, pointed, then mouthed, “ Go. Leave. Get out of here .”
    My father looked over his glasses and invited me to join him behind the Metro section. I tiptoed. Meredith scooted over and joined us.
    “What’s going on?” We huddled. “Where’s Bradley?”
    “He went to work,” my father whispered.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked.
    Meredith spit it out quickly. “Bradley’s mother says you can’t cook and doesn’t think you should wear a white wedding dress.”
    I felt a growl coming on. “I could cook if I wanted to and my dress isn’t white.” It’s not even a wedding dress; it’s just a dress. A creamy off-white bordering on pale-yellow dress. “And why is Mother mad at Anne? She told me yesterday I should be ashamed of myself for wearing white.”
    “She changed her mind,” Meredith peeked over the newspaper, “when Anne said something. Now Mother’s on your side like you’re the original Vestal Virgin.”
    My father shifted in his seat.
    “What color does Anne want me to wear?” We were whispering the conversation all over Daddy and all Under the Sea, which Granny and Riley had backed up and were enjoying again. At the top of their lungs.
    “Blood red?” Meredith shrugged. “Black?”
    I stayed behind the newspaper with Daddy, who tapped my nose and assured me everything would be fine, while Meredith snuck off to my bedroom to get me clothes. I dressed in the pantry, tossing Bianca’s orange robe down the garbage chute. I gave Daddy’s hand a squeeze goodbye, then snuck out.

THREE

      
    It takes great creative minds to keep it exciting at a casino. Never let your patrons get bored. Boredom leads to thoughts of personal fiscal responsibility. Thoughts of personal fiscal responsibility empty a casino faster than a fire. So ramp up the excitement. The exciting Strike it Rich Sweepstakes was less than a week away, and neither Fantasy nor I was very excited, more than anything else, because it had snuck up on us.
    In the past six weeks, we’d chased disappearing liquor shipments by posing as bartenders (I told everyone we were out of mixed drinks; it was beer, wine, or nothing, because making a Three Wise Men #2 isn’t anywhere nearly as easy as it sounds), we’d played in a week-long Texas hold ’em tournament (flops and turns and rivers, oh my!), and had busted up a counterfeit Gucci ring operating out of Spikes, the ladies shoe store on the mezzanine level, after which we felt obligated to keep a few pieces of remarkably genuine-looking evidence (two whole sets of luggage) for comparison purposes in case they ever tried it again.
    Not to mention I’d been planning a wedding.
    We’d been too busy to give the upcoming Strike It Rich festivities much thought and now here we were at the gates. Which, as it turned out, we had to crash.
    Casino events come and go, and we were so familiar with them at this point—slot, blackjack, keep your hand on the Dodge Ram the longest—our team was seldom needed. For the most part, we let sleeping casino events lie. Marketing cooked up the crazy contests, they landed on Mr. Sanders’s desk for approval, he sent it to us, we gave it a hard look, signed off on it, and for the most part, casino parties ran like