My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

48

Of course she had an idea who the murderer could be. A scrap, if she was to be honest. It was hard to comprehend, the reality that someone she knew had killed Hugo in cold blood. All of it was a nightmare. When she tried to settle on one person, someone who might make sense, it didn't soothe her nerves faster than they came alive. It led her elsewhere—motive. And did she have ideas for that.

She knew that her opinion was scattered, a fragment of the ideal vision, but she was doing the best with what Dante would tell her. If he bothered to tell her anything at all. And here she was: in Jubilee Lane. Not delighted, not amused.

But certainly not dead.

Josephine uncrossed and recrossed her legs in her seat, face warm. She had grown far too comfortable with Jubilee Lane's rigid alleyways. After a few times the townspeoples' faces had turned familiar until she was also being recognized strolling through the streets. She loved the attention, but in all places this was one she didn't enjoy. Well, because of why she came in the first place. Jubilee Lane was still stagnant besides its year-old murder. The old with their crocodile wrinkles continued smoking pipes, overfed children with round cheeks did their best at games, and bustling businessmen loomed with their work. Food became a ripe momentum of all the other things she could be doing in the upcoming hours.

Coming here, she did her best to forget about Las Rosas operating just a few blocks down, Charlotte's steamy plates, and focused on the task at hand. However the hell Dante had set for them to investigate the twins. It was awfully tiring to try to keep up.

Josephine crafted her best smile towards the woman across from her as none other than Houston burst through the glass doors, his face notoriously angry. The room quieted immensely. He found her in a heartbeat and shoved himself to her side.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His eyes looked as if they could cut flesh.

She said sweetly, "Supporting the local businesses."

"Bullshit." He grabbed a hold of her elbow. "We're leaving."

Josephine shook him off, not wanting the woman across from her startled. Her smile was tentatively, golden. "Don't bother. I'm almost done."

Houston stood, appalled. He said,"We're in the middle of an investigation and you're getting your nails done."

Indeed she was. The salon had returned to it's normal grace, busy and chattersome as Houston silenced his rage into shock. An entire wall of glass so clean it showed their reflection covered one end of the salon, bathing them all in sunlight. The sturdy floorboard didn't so much as creak as the workers interwove between themselves, prattling onto their clients what color to choose, what size, what look. Handfuls of illustrations if none came to mind were stacked delicately on each metal table, magazines in all colors.

Josephine went to check the woman's work who continued with her craft after Houston had let go of her arm. She was painting with the color of rose-gold. "I was bored."

Houston crossed his arms. "We were meeting at 4:15."

"I came early."

"And this is what you decided to do?" Houston said, shrill.

Josephine fluttered her eyelashes, her eyes peeking for a reaction. What else was she to do? Eat? If all she did was dine at Jubilee Lane, she'd continue this investigation ballooning like a blimp. And if Houston would insist and make her fat, then he wasn't anything bad, but the worst kind of evil.

He grinded his jaw. "You're late. We've all been waiting on you and his majesty is royally pissed." Like he was never.

Oh. Josephine's blue eyes skimmed for a clock only to find there was none inside. A tactic to not feel the passage of time, she realized, as the woman crafted their work. Smart.