Cadaver Lab, page 17
Finally, she gave in. “Okay. Thank you. See you in a few days.”
“Have fun. And stop worrying about the shop!” Jules called after her as she slid through the doorway, luggage in tow.
Liam rushed around the hood of the Jeep and grabbed the bag from her.
“I can handle it,” she protested, even though she actually loved that he’d started doing all the little things like carrying her bag.
“I know you can, but there’s no reason you have to.”
With a smile she let him take the bag and moved to the passenger side door, which he opened for her to climb up.
“Ready?” he asked as she buckled herself in.
“For my boyfriend to meet my mother and my aunt and my cousins for the first time? Probably not.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry. Mothers love me.”
“It’ll help that we’re going to the distillery first. I can stock up on booze for our overnight stay.”
“Is that the reason for the return visit to the distillery?”
“Not really. Just a side benefit. I want to update Charles. Tell him we solved Gabe’s case. He was helpful. And seriously, how much excitement does he get there in the tunnels? I figured he’d appreciate a visit.”
“My girlfriend, the ghost whisperer.”
She smiled then asked seriously, “You don’t mind we’re taking a detour to Pine Plains, do you? I know it adds almost an hour to our trip.”
“Don’t mind at all. Especially since you’ll be buying the booze.” He grinned.
Two hours later, in the tunnels beneath the distillery, Natalie had to wonder if Liam regretted his answer to her question.
After telling Charles about their success in cracking Gabe’s case, and thanking him for his help, she asked, “Is there anything I can do for you before we go?”
The old man’s eyes lit and a sly smirk appeared on his wrinkled mouth. “Well, now that you mention it. It’s been a long time since I’ve had my hands on a dame.”
Her eyes widened and she wondered if she’d made a major mistake here.
“Wouldn’t mind a little dance,” he continued. “If G-man over there wouldn’t mind too much.”
“Um, yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t think he’d like that.”
“Wait, are you talking about me? What wouldn’t I like?” Liam asked.
She waved away his question with one hand while saying, against her better judgment, “Is there anything else?”
He bobbed his head to one side. “There’s one thing that’s been bothering me that maybe you can take care of.”
“What’s that?” she asked, hoping she didn’t regret it.
“My stash of hooch. I hate the idea of six cases of my finest going to waste. I made it for Jack Diamond. Everyone is all about Dutch but Legs—that’s what we called Jack—was the big guns when it came to moving product in these parts. Anyway, he paid for it. I stashed it there for him, and wouldn’t you know it, he was killed before he could pick it up. When the shit hit the fan with the feds I decided it was best to leave it there. This is no bathtub gin, mind you. My stuff was some of the best in the country.”
“Yours? I have no doubt it’ll be good.” She smiled, her pulse pounding too fast for her to attempt to do the math on the value of six cases of high-quality Prohibition era moonshine with a connection to a famous mobster.
“It’s stashed in an old root cellar that used to be part of this property but when they put the new highway through it became state land. I can show you where it is if you want to come with me.”
“I’d love to go with you.”
“You know, I visited it over the past couple of years. Not that I can drink it now, but I like to check on it. It brings back memories. But I figure maybe you’d like it. Drink it. Sell it. Give it away. I don’t care, just make sure you tell anyone who asks it’s Charles Adams’s hooch. Once upon a time considered the best in the country. You in? You want it?”
“Yes, I want it. Thank you.”
“No sweat, doll. Does this cake eater have a truck that’ll fit it all?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll make it fit.”
She moved to follow Charles as Liam stopped her forward progress with a hand on her shoulder. “I’m really going to need you to tell me what you’re talking about.”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Hey,” Liam said as he stepped up behind her where she stood by the cash register.
After pressing a kiss to her cheek he rested his hands on her hips and leaned his chin on her shoulder.
“What are you up to?”
“Tax day cometh so for better or worse I’m adding my income tax appointment to my calendar.” She spun to face him. “I’m worried.”
“About?” he asked, holding her tighter against him and making her glad it was five minutes to six when she could officially declare the shop closed for the day.
“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps the secret private sale of dozens of bottles of prohibition moonshine to Gabe’s collector friends that earned us over a million dollars.” She whispered it even though they were alone.
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
“How can you say that? Al Capone went down for tax evasion, you know.”
“I’m aware, but we’re not evading anything. We’re going to claim it all. Me as an anonymous donation to the lab and you, slowly, as part of your cash sales. Although I still think you could knock it out all at once if you said it was from selling a rare and valuable book you picked up at a garage sale.”
“No.”
“Okay, fine. Have it your way. The point is we’re paying our fair share of income taxes. We’re just doing it while money laundering.”
She widened her eyes to prove the point. “Which is also very illegal.”
“Is it really though? I mean yes, if we’d made the money selling drugs, very illegal. But we didn’t.”
“No. Instead we made it selling illegally produced booze.”
He held up one finger. “But it was only illegal during Prohibition, which is over so not illegal now.”
She was pretty sure that wasn’t correct and she’d bet the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms would agree. But she didn’t argue.
Instead she sighed and said, “Fine. We’ll call it a gray area.”
“There’s my girl.” He grinned and damned if the combination of his dimple and his calling her his girl didn’t make her want to drag him back to her bedroom and rip off his clothes.
There was no fighting the attraction between them, even after all these months, so she decided to give in and enjoy it. She took a step forward and was about to close in for a kiss when the front door flew open and a breathless and dirty Jules stopped on the threshold.
“Natalie—”
“What’s wrong?”
Silhouetted against the glare of the afternoon spring sun streaming in the shop door, Jules held up a long dirt covered bone. “Taco just dug this up behind the shop. I think it’s—”
“Human,” Liam said, moving toward the doorway. “A femur, to be exact.”
Natalie’s eyes widened. Just when she could stop worrying about money—except for the tax stuff—and she had a hot boyfriend to have lots of celebratory sex with, there could not be another murder to solve.
Harper walked in behind Jules and lowered her sunglasses as her gaze hit on the bone still in the girl’s hand. “Oh, no. Not again.”
“Again?” Natalie squeaked. “What do you mean again?”
Behind her Gabe entered and zeroed in on the bone before looking at her. “Sorry. Can’t help you. I don’t know him—or her.”
“I’ll explain after I call the sheriff,” Harper said.
With the bone held between two dirt covered fingers and with a disgusted look on her face, Jules said, “I’m going to put this thing down and wash up. This is too gross.”
As Harper whipped out her cell phone and Jules headed for the bathroom, Natalie turned to look at Liam.
He lifted one shoulder. “At least you’ve got something else to worry about now. Instead of that other thing.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Are you sorry you moved here?” he asked, his hands on her waist again.
She didn’t even have to think about that answer. In spite of the ghosts and bones and the near-death experience and the months of financial worries, she could honestly say, “Not even a little bit.”
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behind the book
Readers often ask writers where we get ideas. The answer is everywhere. Seriously, I never know what is going to spur a concept for a new book or series. Case in point—Cadaver Lab. Where did that come from? Let me tell you.
I spend at least an hour a day chatting with other professionals about business stuff related to publishing, writing and marketing. During one of these chats there was a guy, Justin, who knew a ton about social media marketing but didn’t seem to be an author. Finally, someone asked what he did for a living and his answer was social media for—wait for it—a cadaver lab.
A cadaver lab?! Oh. My. God. My heart sped. My mind whirled. It was like angels sang and my writing muse awakened.
Immediately I knew I wanted to write this book. And it was going to be fun and funny, and probably more than a little bit irreverent because writing a romantic comedy set amongst corpses would have to be, right?
I pawed into Justin’s bio, found the link for his company and did a deep dive into all the videos posted. They were educational and, once I got past the dead body part, really interesting.
Even better—be still my romance writing heart—there was a hot doctor leading us through the presentations, primed and ready to be the inspiration for my next book boyfriend hero.
The cadaver lab idea hit right at a time that ghosts seemed to be having a moment, at least on the small screen. The CBS show “Ghosts” is my new favorite comedy series. I’m pretty sure its success is what spurned “Not Dead Yet” on ABC and “School Spirits” streaming on Paramount+.
Was it fate or coincidence that delivered this idea to me at what feels like the exact right time? Who knows? But it seemed like a perfect moment to write this story.
And where else would I set this unconventional, off-beat story than in my favorite quirky small town, Mudville.
As usual when I’m writing about Mudville, which is not so secretly based on the real town where I currently live, I use actual locations.
The train depot that becomes Natalie’s shop exists. It’s a couple of blocks from my house and currently empty and in need of some tender loving care.
The adorable old train depot is next to a vacant building that had operated as a warehouse for the railroad that still runs today, though for freight trains only.
That warehouse is the inspiration for Liam’s lab location.
For history buffs, the rumor of Dutch’s treasure is real, as is the distillery and the New York Times article about it. Charles Adams did work there for Patrick Ryan and later buy the property, but his stash of hooch and his ghost are my invention.
Finally, that margarita song? Totally real!
That’s it. The Cadaver Lab origin story and proof inspiration really can come in any and all forms. I hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing.
❤️Cat
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about the author
A top 10 New York Times and nine-time USA Today bestselling contemporary romance author, Cat Johnson writes hot alpha heroes (who often wear cowboy or combat boots) and the sassy heroines brave enough to love them.
Known for her creative marketing, Cat has sponsored bull riding cowboys, promoted romance using bologna and owns a collection of cowboy boots and camouflage for book signings.
She writes full time from a Queen Anne Victorian in a small town in upstate New York suspiciously like Mudville where she tends to her backyard chickens and too many cats.
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copyright
Copyright © 2023 by Cat Johnson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cat Johnson, Cadaver Lab
