Ralphie's Wives

Ralphie's Wives
Christine Rimmer

Ralphie Styles had a way with women–lots of women.Country-singer-turned-bartender Phoebe Jacks ought to know–she'd been married to him–before he'd moved on to her best friend. And then her other best friend. But you just couldn't stay mad at Ralphie. Or could you? When he's killed in a suspicious hit-and-run, pregnant wife #4 is suddenly a widow–and a suspect.It's up to Ralphie's best friend from out of town, P.I. Rio Navarro, and Phoebe to see that the old charmer's killer is brought to justice. But Ralphie never mentioned his pal Rio was so attractive–or that he might just be the stand-up guy Ralphie never could be….

Ralphie’s Wives

Christine Rimmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

For Rebecca Reynolds

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

COMING NEXT MONTH

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book was an adventure for me, from start to finish. And so many people reached out helping hands along the way.

To my sister-in-law Millie Stratton and my niece, Lily Dunning—thank you so much for sharing your stories of the Prairie Lady Music Hall. Those lucky enough to remember the Prairie Lady will see echoes of her in the Prairie Queen. To Susan Mallery, thanks always for the endless support and unflagging encouragement. To my plot group, I so couldn’t have done it without you. And to Susan Crosby, who read the first draft and suggested some great fixes—you’re the best.

For a variety of information about the OCPD and the workings of law enforcement in Oklahoma City, I am eternally grateful to Captain Jeffrey Becker of the OCPD and to Maggie Price. For last-minute medical counseling, thank you, Darlene Graham. And for help with my somewhat rusty Spanish, thanks to Leslie Crosby. All errors and omissions, medical and procedural, are completely my own.

PROLOGUE

Remember. If it has tires or testicles, you’re going to have trouble with it.

—from The Prairie Queen’s Guide to Life, by Goddess Jacks

AT A LITTLE AFTER 4:00 a.m. on April fifteenth, Ralphie Styles lay spread-eagled in the middle of an Oklahoma City street, face up, dizzy and bleeding. That was right after the beat-up red van rolled over him and drove off.

He heard a groaning sound and then, a moment later, realized the sound was coming from his own mouth. He stared up at the night sky and tried to move his legs. Nothing.

He tried his arms: no luck. His hand. No. A damn finger…

Wasn’t happening. Zero response from the various extremities. The control tower was operating on its own.

The good news was that he felt absolutely no pain.

Or maybe that was the bad news….

He listened. Heard water dripping nearby and a siren, far off, fading to nothing—not coming for him. He smelled asphalt and he tasted his own blood in his mouth.