Storm in a Teacup Read Online Free

he does.
    "Do you remember their old bass player?"
    His shoulders twitch at that, and I know he remembers her. His eyes narrow at me, assessing. "Lena? You're looking for Lena?"
    "Yep. Know her?"
    He shuffles his weight around. "Only a little. She was the only tolerable member of the band. Jack — the singer — said she got a gig playing bass with some new country singer and would be on the road for the next six months."
    "Do you know of any family around here?" I haven't been able to find any, and it's not likely Lena's family lives in Tennessee. Musicians who move here don't usually bring their parents along.
    "Her grandma used to come to her shows. And some bottle blonde showed up every now and then."
    "What? Grandma?" I pop my ears and want to pop Jack the Singer in the face for the persistent ringing. There're enough blondes in Nashville to sell the SuperMart out of peroxide, but Lena's grandma? Probably not many of those.
    "Yeah, that's what I thought. But she used to come in. I think she lives nearby."
    "Do you know her name?"
    "Hazel something. Her last name is funny. Latte or something. She comes in for happy hour most days."
    "Hazel Latte. Are you sure you're not remembering what you ordered at Starbucks this morning?"
    "No, it's something like that." He doesn't even seem to take offense. "Much as I'd like to stay and chat, I've got to get my wrap-ups done so I can get out of this hell hole. I need a new job."
    He shakes himself and turns to head back to the soundboard.
    I catch his arm, and he stops.  
    "Look, I'm not lying to you." His irises go cloudy, like he's gathering his power. It swirls in his eyes, like silt stirring at the bottom of a clear pond. Damn witches, always ready to jump magic-first into the pool.  
    I drop my hand from his arm, and his eyes turn clear again. "I'm not saying you are. I'll stop by again. Will you let me know if you see Lena or hear anything about...Hazel Latte?" I can barely bring myself to say the name.
    He nods. "Yeah, sure. Leave your number before you go, and I'll call you if I hear anything. Lena was a good kid."
    We both hear the past tense, and he frowns.  
    "I mean, she is."
    I jot down my cell number and hand it over, puzzling over his word choice. Either he knows something happened to her, or something I said made him second guess the idea that Lena's off playing stand-up bass for the new teeny-bopper reality show winner.
    Either way, I'm done here.
    And for some reason, I want coffee.

CHAPTER FOUR

    Nashville's a big little town, and I no sooner mention Hazel Latte to Gregor than he finds her. And her surname isn't Latte, either. It's Lottie.
    She lives a short block and a half from The Hole in a bright orange house. Cinder blocks litter her front yard in piles like redneck cairns. Where the Summit granny has snapdragons and tulips, this old bat has concrete. Nonplussed, I pull back a screen door that looks like it's been shredded by a cat. Hazel Lottie has a doorbell, and I press it. If she's anything like the Summit granny at all, she'll hear a knock about as well as she'd hear a whisper from Chattanooga.  
    I jump when the theme from Jaws booms on the other side of the door.  
    A moment later, I hear a rustle and a thud. I hope I haven't gone and killed her dead, because I need to ask her about Lena.
    "Who the hell are you?" There's a pause, followed by a clunk. The door scridges open, and a bright purple head pops out. She scrutinizes me for about four seconds. "A Mediator on my doorstep. Come in, child, I'll make some tea."
    I step inside and over the source of the clunk — a step-stool painted a virulent green. I see the reason for it as soon as I come face-to-face with Hazel Lottie; the top of her bouffant purple hair comes only to my chest.  
    She waves at the living room. "Have a seat on the sofa, dear. I'll get your tea."  
    I obey, sitting down on the squeaky, plastic-covered sofa. Not a speck of dirt or dust is to be seen as I look around. Across