Read Online A Shot to Die For by Libby Fischer Hellmann - Free Book Online Page A

her red nails too long. “Another round?” she asked cheerfully.
    Mac and I exchanged looks. “Sure,” he answered.
    “Draft and a Chardonnay, right?” She had a heavy Southern twang.
    Mac nodded.
    “I’ll be right back. I’m Pari, by the way.”
    I looked up. “Pari?”
    “That’s right. Pari Noskin Taichert?” she said, her inflection turning it into a question, but she went off before we could come up with the answer. “It’s unusual. I know,” she allowed when she returned with our drinks.
    “What?” Mac asked.
    “My name.” She smiled at him, but not before stealing a glance at me.
    “Is that so?” Mac returned the smile.
    “Right as rain. The Taicherts come from New Jersey and New York. But the Noskins, now, they pretty much run everything in Pine Hollow.”
    “Pine Hollow?” Mac asked.
    “Kentucky,” she said proudly. “The mountains. My family settled the hollow a long time ago.”
    Deciding that Mac’s flirtations were none of my business, I peered outside again. The brightly clad golfers I’d seen earlier were standing around a table, the afternoon breeze fanning their shirttails. Something about one of them reminded me of David, and I felt a pang. Maybe I should invite him to come out. It had been a long time.
    “Miss—can I—”
    I swiveled around. “I’m sorry. What?”
    Pari slipped her tray under one arm. “You the ones doin’ all that filming around here, ain’t you?”
    “Guilty.”
    “Well, now, if that’s not as exciting as a bug in a tater patch, I don’t know what is!”
    Another one who wanted to touch the glamour. I sighed inwardly. “It’s not a Hollywood movie. Just a video about the resort. Like a very long commercial.”
    She shrugged. “It don’t matter. I never seen no TV or movies being made.” She gave me a look that was almost sly. “You need someone to do something—what do they call those folks you see in crowds and on the streets?”
    “Extras.”
    “Extras. Yeah. Well, you need one, you just let me know.” She patted her hair.
    “Thanks, but I think we’re all set.”
    I hoped the finality in my voice signaled the end of it, but she stayed where she was.
    “Thanks,” I repeated. Now please get lost.
    She moved the tray in front of her like a shield. I was about to say something more direct when she tilted her head. “You know, I seen
you
on TV.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Yeah, I did. You were on the news, weren’t you? At the rest stop with Daria Flynn.”
    My stomach clenched. I could deny it. I didn’t want to talk—or think—about that day. “You have sharp eyes,” I mumbled.
    She smiled, as if I’d handed her a compliment. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. I wasn’t sure, you know. I did think to myself—”
    “You know, Pari, if it’s all the same to you, I don’t want—”
    “Well, now, here’s the thing.…”
    Mac got to his feet and started walking away.
    “Where are you going?” I asked.
    “I think I see someone I know. I’ll be right back.”
    “Coward.”
    He didn’t answer. His departure didn’t seem to faze Pari. Once he was gone, she moved closer.
    “Now, miss, what I was wondering was whether you
knowed
her or not. I mean before she got killed.” She lowered her voice. “They didn’t say on TV, you know.”
    “Miss—I mean, Pari.” I waved a hand, trying one last time to dismiss her. “Let’s not go there. I really don’t want to talk about it.”
    She ignored me. “’Cause, ya see,” she said slowly, “if you did know Daria, then maybe you knew she come in here a few times recently.”
    My hand stopped in midair. “Daria Flynn—came here?”
    Pari nodded.
    “I thought she worked at the Geneva Inn.”
    “She come in here afterward. More ’n once.”
    I thought about the mysterious boyfriend who had abandoned her on the highway. “Alone?”
    “Well, I guess that’s what’s so interesting, isn’t it?” Pari’s eyes narrowed fractionally, but I saw a gleam