Drop Dead Lola Read online

  Praise for the Lola Cruz Mystery Series

  “[Bourbon] keeps the action tight, the plot smart and humor light in this spicy blend of crime solving and romance. Lola’s Latina perspective adds extra sizzle.”

  – Publishers Weekly

  “Living the Vida Lola has a cast of endearing characters so real they jump right off the page. If you like a mystery with plenty of sass and sizzle, don’t miss this sparkling debut!”

  — Brenda Novak,

  New York Times Bestselling Author of Taking the Heat

  “If you like fun and spunky Stephanie Plum, you’ll love smart and sexy Lola Cruz. Fun, tightly plotted, and 100% entertaining, Living the Vida Lola is a terrific story bursting with marvelous characters that keep you rapidly turning pages until the very end.”

  — Allison Brennan,

  New York Times Bestselling Author of Too Far Gone

  “Well-written with laugh-out-loud humor and a complex mystery, this wonderful debut will have you looking forward to more books in the series.”

  – RT Book Reviews

  “Lola’s back, and hotter than ever, whether strutting her stuff as a courtside dancer or crashing a party at a nudist resort. Between the well-crafted mystery and the sizzling romance, Bare-Naked Lola is a great read.”

  – Jennie Bentley,

  New York Times Bestselling Author of A Cutthroat Business

  “¡Ay Caramba! Lola Cruz is smarter and sexier than ever. Bourbon and her spicy PI detective will leave you hanging on every page!”

  – Tonya Kappes,

  USA Today Bestselling Author of Southern Fried

  “Lola’s voice is vibrant, loud, hilarious and shined through in this deliciously fun mystery…I am completely addicted to this series!”

  – Fresh Fiction

  “Fans who fell for Lola in Living the Vida Lola will welcome her smart and snappy return.”

  – Booklist

  “Offers plenty of plot twists and action, in addition to hot moments of romance. For a touch of welcome diversity in the mystery novel, I highly recommend Living the Vida Lola.”

  – Mystery Scene Magazine

  “Smart, sassy, and a bundle of fun! Lola is the spicy, Latina answer to Stephanie Plum—full of laughs, heart, and the kind of endearing woman you can’t help rooting for.”

  – Gemma Halliday,

  New York Times Bestselling Author of Spying in High Heels

  “Bare-Naked Lola reveals just how saucy, funny, sizzling and brave P.I. Lola Cruz can be. She is one hot mamacita, and this book is not to be missed. Loved every page!”

  – Heather Webber,

  Bestselling Author of Trouble in Spades

  “Fans looking for the next Stephanie Plum might just find her in Sacramento in the form of Lola Cruz, the muy caliente heroine of Living the Vida Lola…a snappy blend of mystery, romance and humor.”

  – Mystery Lovers Book Store

  “Tightly plotted, with scenes of laugh-out-loud humor, great dialogue and supporting characters, this is a sassy, fun story that will have you waiting impatiently for the next book.”

  – RT Book Reviews (4 1/2 stars)

  The Lola Cruz Mystery Series

  by Melissa Bourbon

  LIVING THE VIDA LOLA (#1)

  HASTA LA VISTA, LOLA (#2)

  BARE-NAKED LOLA (#3)

  WHAT LOLA WANTS (#4)

  DROP DEAD LOLA (#5)

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  Copyright

  DROP DEAD LOLA

  A Lola Cruz Mystery

  Part of the Henery Press Mystery Collection

  First Edition | January 2020

  Henery Press, LLC

  www.henerypress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, LLC, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2020 by Melissa Bourbon

  Author photograph by Bruce Bourbon

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Trade Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-571-0

  Digital epub ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-572-7

  Kindle ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-573-4

  Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-574-1

  Printed in the United States of America

  For you, Monica Palla, because parallel lives!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My husband and kids are Latino, which is what led me to create Lola Cruz as a character. Writing this series has been a way to celebrate all that I love about the culture I married into…and there is so much to love and honor. I created Lola in the hopes that my daughter and nieces would have a strong, empowered, and smart female book character that represented a bit of who they are, and with whom they could connect or relate.

  With a recent study showing data about how severely Latinos are underrepresented in Hollywood (and in fiction), I’m prouder than ever of the Lola Cruz books and what Lola represents. With all that’s going on in the world and with all the hate, I’m so grateful to be able to show a Latina woman as powerful, determined, smart, and driven.

  To that end, I want to thank Kendel Lynn, who loved the Lola series and wanted to give it new life; thanks to Christina Rogers, Art Molinares, and Maria Edwards, and the Henery Press team, all of whom make writing this series so fun; thanks to Holly Root who continues to champion this series and who, in her words, would love to see Lola rule the world; thanks to my husband, Carlos, for always supporting my passion for writing; thanks to my kids for lifting me up by saying, “You’re killing it, Mom!”; and thanks to my mom and dad—both of whom I love so much—for being my biggest champions.

  Chapter 1

  My name is Dolores Cruz. Lola for short. I’m a PI. And today, I’m also a giant coral-colored marshmallow.

  No joke.

  My cousin Leti is getting married, and I was one of the bridesmaids. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, turning this way and that, but it didn’t matter. No matter which angle I saw myself from, the dress was still hideous. It was a pale coral color, knee-length, had a full tulle skirt, and the entire bodice was an abundance of appliquéd flowers. It was backless and the front scooped low, the thick flowers circling in a band around the waist, then dotting down the tulle.

  I spun around trying not to cringe as I saw the dress fan out around me.

  Leti gasped, staring at me and stopping me in my tracks. My eyes teared. She saw it too, how atrocious I looked. The color was good against my olive skin, but my curves, which I’m normally very proud of, padded by layer after layer after layer of tulle, looked triple the size they normally were and the appliquéd flowers on my 34Cs somehow made them look as if they’d ballooned into 38DDs. “What? Ay dios mío. Is it that bad?”

  “Bad? Lola, no, my God, it’s perfect.”

  I looked back at the mirror and blinked. Then blinked again. Was she seeing the same dress I was?

  But Leti stared at me, slack-jawed. She slapped her hands against the sides of her face, reminis
cent of Macauley Culkin in Home Alone. “You. Look. Amazing.”

  “Wha-at?” I didn’t know what planet she was living on, but here on Earth, I looked like I belonged on What Not to Wear, the Bridesmaid Edition.

  “Es perfecto,” Leti said. Tears had pooled in her dark eyes. “Just what I imagined.”

  “Are they all the same?” I asked, trying to imagine a row of bridesmaids all wearing dresses that looked like they’d been ripped straight out of a 1980s John Hughes movie.

  Come to think of it, Pretty in Pink was one of Leti’s all-time favorites, so maybe that had been her vision. She was a few years younger than me, but I remembered her Molly Ringwald phase. Her mother, my tía Roselia, wouldn’t give her permission to dye her hair red, but she had let Leti cut her hair and had given her a perm. The haircut had been bad, and the perm had fried Leti’s hair, but my cousin didn’t care. In her mind, she’d become the spitting image of her screen idol.

  I slapped my hands against my thighs, the layers of tulle muffling the impact. “Okay then,” I said. I’d been around enough brides to know that I wasn’t going to change her mind, so I didn’t bother trying. “We’re good then?”

  “Better than good.” Leti swiped her fingers over her cheeks, whisking away her happy tears. “I want the wedding to be perfect, Lola.”

  “It will be,” I said, stepping off the platform and wrapping my arms around her.

  She beamed. “And my bachelorette party. You’ll be there?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” I said. “You’d better be ready for some surprises.”

  A heated blush crept from Leti’s chest to her cheeks. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Are you talking about…dios mio…do you mean a male stripper?”

  I shrugged, feigning innocence, but then I winked, giving her a wicked little grin. “I’m sworn to secrecy,” I said.

  In truth, I had no idea what Leti’s sister and maid of honor, Eloisa, was planning. Whatever it was, I hoped there would be some sort of surprise for Leti. It didn’t have to be a stripper, but it had to be something.

  I changed back into my jeans and blouse, grabbed my bag, gave Leti a kiss on the cheek, and headed out into the cool April air. A red SUV rolled past me as I crossed the street to my car. It slowed and the passenger window silently slid down. My sister Gracie smile at me. “¿Qué pasa, hermana?”

  “Just did my fitting. Back to work.”

  The car stopped completely and Lucy, my cousin-in-law, who was married to Zac, who was Leti’s brother, leaned over from the driver’s seat. “How’s the dress?” she asked, biting her lower lip anxiously.

  My eyebrows lifted noncommittally. Just because I didn’t love it didn’t mean they wouldn’t. They were going to have to make up their own minds about the dress.

  “Oh, God, I hope it’s not, like, itchy.” Chely, our fifteen-year-old cousin, peered at me from the back seat. Beside her, carefully strapped in, was a backwards-facing baby carrier. My heart did a joyful little flip at the sleepy gurgle coming from my little nephew. “Oh, el precioso!”

  I stood back to let Lucy pull into a parking spot. Another car with another bridesmaid drove past us. I waved, so glad I’d come early. If I hadn’t, I’d have gotten caught up in the chisme, because dios mio, these women could gossip like no other. That, and I might never want to give little Samuel back to his mama.

  Chely opened the back door and hopped out. I leaned in and laid the backs of my fingers against one of his cherubic cheeks. He had Gracie’s beautiful olive skin and the shape of her lips. From his dad, he’d gotten a head full of ringlets and bright green eyes. Gazing at him now, I couldn’t help but wonder what Jack’s and my children might look like. Blue eyes, or green? Dark hair like mine, or a little lighter, like his? Would they have Jack’s dimples?

  I blinked away the imaginings. Jack and I were at a good place, despite the ongoing obstacles in our lives, but kids? He wanted a passel, and I wanted…at least two. But that was years from now. We had a lot of time to make up for all the years we didn’t spend together before we introduced children into the mix. We hadn’t even said I love you to each other yet.

  Did I love him?

  Maybe.

  Gracie scooted in beside me and unhooked the car seat, expertly pulling it from the base without waking the baby. A minute later we were all outside the car. Chely and Lucy stood on either side of me and together we gazed at little Samuel.

  “Hard to believe they’re ever this tiny,” Lucy said. “You can just stare at them for hours, can’t you?”

  The baby could do nothing and my attention would be riveted. I blinked, tearing myself away. “I better go.”

  Lucy laughed and gave me a knowing look. “Uh oh, is your biological clock ticking?”

  “Ooo, does Jack know?” Chely asked, googly-eyed.

  “No biological clock,” I said, waving away the very idea. It was un poquito lie, but I gave what I was sure was a convincing smile.

  Leti’s excited voice called from the entrance of the bridal shop.

  Perfect timing. I’d come early because I was due at Camacho and Associates for a staff meeting, so I gave the baby a kiss on the forehead, gave hugs to my fellow bridesmaids, and headed out, that ticking clock in my body fading the closer I got to the PI firm where my work crew awaited.

  Chapter 2

  Insurance fraud cases were the bread and butter of the private investigator business. It seemed like every other client we had was a company needing to prove that someone collecting insurance was actually faking an injury. If I prepared myself for that type of case, I’d never be disappointed.

  Traffic was heavy, so the drive from Arden to Camacho and Associates took longer than normal. My car was pre-Bluetooth, so I entertained myself by plugging my phone in using an aux cord and blasting Juanes. He’d played in Napa not too long ago and me and my girls—Lucy, Reilly, Coco, and Gracie, not my Victoria’s Secret encased cleavage—were front and center. If I wasn’t late for the meeting, I would have sat in the parking lot and let “La Plata” finish playing. But I was late, so I turned the car off, cutting Juanes off mid-song, and hurried past Szechuan House, the best Chinese food in all of Sacramento. My stomach rumbled, but I bypassed the alluring scent of Mapo tofu in favor of insurance fraud.

  The camera mounted at the ceiling tracked my movements as I fluttered my fingers against the fronds of the single little fake fern Manny had placed in the corner. In the conference room, the associates of Camacho and Associates were seated around the rectangular table in the center of the room. All eyes turned to look at me as I took my seat next to Reilley Fuller, the PI firm’s Jill of All Trades. I’d seen her only yesterday, but she’d changed her hair color since then. Gone was the vibrant green. In its place was the au courant silvery lavender gray that so many women sported. Me? I was not in favor of going gray before my time. Or ever, in fact. I liked my chestnut hair with the strategically placed highlights that framed my face.

  “You’re late.” The snarl came from Sadie Metcalf, the pixie-like blonde at one end of the table. If I had a nemesis in my life, she was it. If she wasn’t shooting daggers at me with her eyes, she was undermining my PI abilities. I was green, it was true. In over my head? Sometimes. But I’d solved some pretty tough cases, and I’d done it with style. I was learning.

  “Traffic,” I said, omitting the fact that I’d been sidetracked by a baby and my biological clock trying to jumpstart. Sadie didn’t have mothering instincts as far as I could tell, so she wouldn’t empathize.

  Manny Camacho, the head honcho of the PI operation, sat at the opposite side of the table. Neil Lashby, the tech expert of the group, sat across from Reilly. We were a small firm. For some, that might mean we were like a family. Other than Reilly, who I counted as one of my best friends, the reality was that I knew next to nothing about the personal lives of my coworkers. What I did know, I could number off on
five fingers: Manny was a former cop—he dated Isabel, a.k.a. Tomb Raider girl, but he stepped out with other women, too, so maybe theirs was an open relationship; Neil and Reilly were sharing more than office space; Manny and Sadie had shared something that I preferred not to have details on—or think about at all; Reilly did some work on the side for Manny, but they’d both been silencioso about it.

  Reilly took notes as Manny ran through the firm’s open cases, getting updates from each of the associates. Neil was in the middle of a security surveillance installation, Sadie had been immersed in a backyard dog breeder investigation, and Manny had several cases he was juggling. He had recently established a relationship with several insurance agencies, which meant Camacho and Associates did the majority of their fraud investigations. I had just submitted a report on one. It had entailed a lot of surveillance and photographing of the subject in question, catching him out on his lies. No, you can’t wash your car on your driveway without a neck brace if you have a neck injury. No, playing catch with your son is not a good idea. No, teaching your daughter to ride a bike by running alongside her down the street isn’t allowed. All of which adds up to a guy who’s trying to milk the system by faking an injury. I was wrapping up another, and after that my docket was clear.

  The status review ended. I scooted back in my chair, disappointed. I’d been ready for a new challenge. I started to stand when Manny said, “We do have a new case, but…”

  I fell back into my seat. In synchronicity, the four associates spun our heads and looked at him, waiting. A little zip shot through my body. I had the least on my private eye plate, so if the shoe fit, the case should come to me.