Mayhem Takes a Dare: The Second Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

their coach had damn well better have a showing in the March matchups or else.” The man next to Tara smirked. The top of his thinning head of wispy gray hair barely reached the pretty blonde’s shoulder, and his greedy eyes fastened on her chest.
    Marisa was fairly certain she heard growling noises from other members of the group.
    In the near darkness of the dimly lit club, Tara hastily pointed at the bar with her glass. “Look at that woman with the short hair sitting alone at the bar. I bet we could deduce whether she’s a Cards or a Cats fan.”
    Marisa hid a small smile as everyone started talking and speculating. Nothing like deflection and competition to get people’s minds off pounding one another into the floor.
    “How about you, do you want to take a stab at it?” Tara gestured toward the hovering young man who’d intercepted Brianna’s angry arm at the bar. “You look like you’d be pretty good at deduction.” Tara’s smile was sweet and innocent.
    Marisa knew Tara was up to something. She stared carefully at the young man in baggy jeans, red and white bandana, square glasses with gray lenses, and his wallet chained to his pants. Marisa sucked in her breath. It was Lieutenant Dreamus Camden. Without Tara’s clues, Marisa would never have guessed his identity. What was he doing here and why was he in disguise? Was it because of Caleb’s murder?
    Camden flicked his eyes over Tara’s tight white t-shirt, emblazoned with the University of Kentucky Wildcat emblem and seeming to barely hold her large breasts. “I’d say since that woman is sitting there quietly, minding her own business, she must be a Cards fan.”
    Tara’s mouth opened in outrage.
    Marisa poked her in the ribs.
    “No,” argued a very thin woman in a flowing black lacy top and snug boot cut jeans, a purse nearly as large as herself draped over one bony shoulder. Her skinny arms glowed like radioactive tree branches in the near darkness of the club. Her head sprouted three short pigtails, one on each side of her head and one in the middle. She looked like an emaciated triceratops. “She has to be a Cats fan. A guy approached her, and she practically took his head off. All that repressed aggression points to a Cats fan.”
    His eyes still on Tara’s chest, the little gray man sneered. “Or she’s just cranky.”
    “A grumpy person can be a Cards or Cats fan,” argued Tara.
    The final consensus was split down the middle, with roughly half voting for Cards fan, and the remainder for Cats fan.
    “How do we know if we’re right?” frowned the dinosaur-haired woman.
    “I’ll go ask her,” volunteered Marisa.
    “I’ll go with you.” The voice was as low and wispy as fog obscuring headstones in a deserted graveyard. It belonged to a tall man who had materialized from the gloom next to Marisa. With his dark suit, somber tie, and conservatively buzzed head, he stood out in the room full of men and women dressed in the extreme Goth fashion of flowing black or the timeless uniform of jeans and t-shirts. The dim light highlighted his bony face with its shadows. Marisa recognized him as the man who had loomed over Alex when he was on the floor.
    As Marisa and her companion approached, the woman at the bar looked up. Her face, bare of makeup in the soft bar lights, was smooth and slightly inquiring.
    Marisa smiled. “We were having a discussion over there.” She pointed to the group, who were all focused on Marisa and her errand. “We were wondering if you are a Cats fan or a Cards fan.”
    “What?” The woman’s face indicated she thought they were either lunatics or speaking a different language.
    Her companion, with his persistent silence, wasn’t helping. Feeling foolish, especially with the bartender’s amused eyes on her, Marisa explained the wager.
    Her face clearing with understanding, the woman laughed so hard Marisa wondered if she’d fall off the barstool. “I’m from Indianapolis. I’m the DJ for tonight. I