Read Online Randall #02 - Ghost Writers in the Sky by Anne R. Allen - Free Book Online

available.” He was engrossed in lettering a sign that said, in elegant calligraphy, “GUESTS ONLY & NO REPORTERS.”
    “ My room is not available? Where is Gabriella?” Was I being given the boot because of Mitzi Boggs Bailey’s delusions?
    “ Miss Moore is out. She says you can have Roy Rogers. No extra charge.”  Alberto put the final touches on his ampersand.
    “ I should hope not. I’m supposed to get free lodging,” I gave a grumpy sniff. “First my luggage disappears and now this.”
    Alberto silently pointed with his Rapidograph pen. My set of ancient Vuitton suitcases and laptop case were carefully stacked behind the desk. I ran to them. It felt like being reunited with family.
    Rick picked up my two largest bags.
    “ Roy Rogers is very nice. Sleeps six.” Said Alberto.
    I gave him a cold look. “I don’t plan on doing any entertaining.”
    “ Don’t be upset about the room change,” Rick said. “The place is full. Gaby probably wants to get Mitzi away from the crime scene. The old girl has already screwed things up for the i-team with that call to the Sheriff about your…” He raised his eyebrows in feigned shock, “Zombie sex ménage a  trois .”
    “ Screwed it up for the investigators? What about me? Look what that old woman’s delusions have…” I stopped. Rick’s mention of “zombie sex” had quieted the lobby to an eavesdropping hush. Now I knew the punchline of those late-night jokes.
    Rick hurried me out to his car.
    I apologized for my crankiness when we were safely in his Saturn. “You seem to have a lot of practice with crowds.”
    “ I was a rookie beat cop during the O.J. trial.” Rick started down the winding drive to the cabins. “I learned a lot about dealing with scandal-obsessed reporters. Since then, I’ve been assigned to dozens of celebrity cases. It’s absurd how the smallest thing can explode into a scandal once the media get hold of it.”
    I just nodded.
    The cabin area wasn’t as crowded as the Hacienda, and I couldn’t spot any lurking reporters, but all the cabin parking spaces were taken by what looked like the investigation team. Several determined-looking workers in Sheriff’s Department uniforms stood inside the yellow police tape barrier surrounding Zorro and its environs.
    Rick had to park a few hundred yards up the hill, but didn’t complain as he grabbed my suitcases and started down the road. I had the laptop bag and make-up case as well as my tote, which made for an awkward load as I trudged after him. The warming sun beat down bright and hot.
    “ Too bad we had to shoot the horses, Dusty.” Rick put on a stagy cowboy drawl. “But at least we got all your bricks in these here saddlebags.”
    “ Sorry. I tend to overpack. I had no idea how people would dress out here in the Wild West—especially right down the road from the old Reagan Ranch. I didn’t want to look shabby if I was going to run into a bunch of Republican grande dames . They are the Manners Doctor’s fan base after all.”
    Rick laughed. “My mother-in-law’s a Democrat, and she’s your biggest fan—swear to God. But everything I’ve heard about you is so different.”
    Uh-oh. This was it. He was going to ask if anything in that article was true.
    But he just grinned. “You seem real. You know, down-to-earth.”
    “ I am real. So is the Manners Doctor, in a way. Most people have an inner child. I have an inner great aunt.”
    He had a delicious grin. He even carried my bags into the bedroom and lifted the biggest one onto the folding luggage rack.
    “ You’ve been so kind,” I said. “I don’t know how you managed to be there exactly when I needed you, but thanks. If I can do anything for you…”
    He laughed. “I wish I could claim to be psychic, but actually Gaby sent me this morning. She felt awful about Mitzi’s call to the Sheriff, and if she could have picked you up herself, she would have.” He leaned closer, smelling of Old Spice.
    Mr. Stowe,