Bone to Be Wild by Carolyn Haines

ex–band manager, from the angle of someone wanting to hurt Scott or the band, but it seems really unlikely a guy living in Europe would take out a hit on a newly hired bartender. This is closer to home, I think. We don’t know a lot about Koby’s background. Maybe he had enemies. Maybe it’s someone with a personal grudge against Scott.” I couldn’t forget Gertrude. “Or me. Gertrude Strom would hurt the band or the club because Scott’s my friend.”
    â€œI agree with your line of thinking.” Scott cut a bite of omelet but didn’t eat it. “Koby enjoyed flirting, but he wasn’t the kind to mess with a man’s girl or make enemies.”
    I’d seen Koby’s principles in action. He had come on to me strong, but the minute Jaytee had hinted Scott was interested, he’d backed away.
    Tinkie shot Scott a look of apology. “We have to check all of the band members and any employees of the club. I’m sorry. I know this is aggravation on top of injury.”
    Scott pushed his half-eaten breakfast away. “I know. I understand. I don’t like it, but I get it. Everyone is a suspect.” His gaze caught and held mine. “They’ll all check out clean, though. I know these guys. They’re musicians and they’re completely devoted to the band and the success of the club. Why would any of them do something like this? It could destroy their future security.”
    â€œIt may not come from them, Scott, but from someone in their past. Some folks drag trouble behind him like a ball and chain.”
    â€œAnd there are the old standbys. Greed, envy, lust, revenge, did I say greed?” Tinkie pushed Scott’s plate toward him. “Finish eating. It’s going to be a long morning, and you need to take care of yourself.”
    â€œWhat about local people?” I asked. “Has anyone talked against the club?”
    Tinkie got up and poured herself some coffee. When she was seated again, she pulled a notepad from the pocket of her jeans. “I made a few calls this morning before I got dressed. I have a list of people who have been outspoken in their opposition to the club. I think it’s a waste of time, but we have to check it out.”
    I scooted my chair so I could read from her notes. “Reverend Jebediah Farley, Angela Bowers, Johnny “Frisco” Evans—who the hell is that?”
    â€œFrisco just moved here from Memphis. Word is, he wanted to buy the club and turn it into a country bar. Angela Bowers wanted to see Playin’ the Bones turned into a ballroom kind of place, and it’s hard to figure Farley’s angle. Apparently he wanted to shut the place down in an attempt to eradicate sin.”
    â€œMy aching…” I left the thought unfinished. “So why didn’t one of them buy it?”
    Tinkie shifted uncomfortably. “Frisco’s the only one with enough money or credit. He tried. It’s just that Scott’s offer was taken and his wasn’t.”
    Something was off here, but Tinkie’s expression warned me not to push too hard.
    â€œI had the better offer, right?” Scott asked.
    Tinkie stared deep into her coffee cup. “The owner took the offer he liked best.”
    Scott was now alarmed. “What do you mean?”
    Tinkie sighed. “There’s nothing illegal. The owner wanted it to remain a blues club, not country. So he took your offer.”
    â€œWas Johnny Evans’s offer higher?” I asked.
    â€œIt was apples and oranges, as I understand it. Scott had the financial paperwork in place. The owner took the offer he liked. It was at his discretion. But Frisco, as he prefers to be called, was more than a little upset.”
    â€œWe’ll start our investigation with those three.” As I picked up dishes and put them in the sink, I filled Tinkie in on the truck lurking outside Dahlia House. “Nothing happened, but we have