momentarily erased the thought of treats from Rusty’s mind. Rusty practically danced to the door while Kevin got his leash.
Mrs. H. stepped closer to Liza. “I heard there was more trouble at the inn than a power failure last night,” she said. Her usually cheerful, round face looked strained, even nervous as she spoke.
“I don’t know if it’s something you’d like to hear about, Mrs. H.” Liza shook her head. “It started as a pleasant evening, but it came to a bad end.” Before she got any farther, the telephone rang. Liza sighed. She’d already noticed the insistent beeping from her answering machine. Excusing herself, she picked up the phone. Mrs. H. went to join Kevin and Rusty in the snow outside.
“Don’t you ever turn on your damn cell phone?” Ava Barnes demanded. “I’ve been trying to get you since we had news about what happened at the Killamook Inn.”
“The local cell tower was out, so there didn’t seem much use in wasting my battery.”
“But you are the one who found this art thief—Dalen?” Ava plowed on. “And there’s a missing million-dollar painting? Is that why he was killed? Have you got any theories yet?”
“It’s a Mondrian worth three million dollars,” Liza replied. “If you heard anything about how the body was found—and what happened next—you’d know it’s pretty embarrassing for me. And why should I have any theories about anything?”
“What?” Ava’s voice got a little louder over the line. “You’re going to solve this, aren’t you? You solved the Derrick Robbins case down in Santa Barbara. I was there, remember? I almost got killed along with you. And you solved the mess that cropped up around the movie shoot here in Maiden’s Bay. I figured you’d already be at work, out there with Sheriff Clements.”
“For one thing, it’s not just Sheriff Clements. There’s an investigator from the state police who definitely doesn’t want me butting in. For another, I don’t want to get involved.”
“How can you say that?” Ava’s voice took on a “that’s just crazy talk” tone—the tone of a managing editor seeing hopes for additional circulation flying out the window.
“As I remember it, you weren’t all that eager to see me get involved in those other cases.”
“Liza.” Now Ava sounded like a schoolteacher trying to point out to an extremely dense student that two and two actually equal four. “Your column goes national in a couple of weeks. Think what it would mean if you also made the news pages in all those papers.”
“Listen to me, Ava,” Liza said. “I’m not getting involved in this. I mean it.”
Well, they had literally been best friends for forever, painting sample polish on each other’s bitten nails as kids, giggling over boys. Ava could tell when she was serious. Her brief silence showed that she’d gotten the message.
“We can talk about that later,” Ava offered diplomatically. Then her managing editor side came out. “But there’s still the story about what happened at the inn. You don’t have to write anything,” she said quickly. “I’ll just put Murph on the line, and you can answer a few questions—”
“No,” Liza said. “Give me a little time to get my head together, and then I’ll come in. You’ll understand a little better about how I feel after I talk with you.”
Like how I’d hate to see all the juicy details splashed across the media, she added silently.
“Okay,” Ava said uncertainly. “Later, then.” She took a breath. “Which I hope means sooner, if you know what I mean.”
“I know the paper has a deadline. Just give me a little time to sort things out. Bye, Ava.” Liza hung up the phone.
Her fingers were still on the handset when the damned thing began ringing again. Had Ava thought up some new, last-minute argument? Taking a deep breath, Liza brought the instrument to her ear.
“I’d begun to think you had died instead of that art thief,” Michelle
Mrs. H. stepped closer to Liza. “I heard there was more trouble at the inn than a power failure last night,” she said. Her usually cheerful, round face looked strained, even nervous as she spoke.
“I don’t know if it’s something you’d like to hear about, Mrs. H.” Liza shook her head. “It started as a pleasant evening, but it came to a bad end.” Before she got any farther, the telephone rang. Liza sighed. She’d already noticed the insistent beeping from her answering machine. Excusing herself, she picked up the phone. Mrs. H. went to join Kevin and Rusty in the snow outside.
“Don’t you ever turn on your damn cell phone?” Ava Barnes demanded. “I’ve been trying to get you since we had news about what happened at the Killamook Inn.”
“The local cell tower was out, so there didn’t seem much use in wasting my battery.”
“But you are the one who found this art thief—Dalen?” Ava plowed on. “And there’s a missing million-dollar painting? Is that why he was killed? Have you got any theories yet?”
“It’s a Mondrian worth three million dollars,” Liza replied. “If you heard anything about how the body was found—and what happened next—you’d know it’s pretty embarrassing for me. And why should I have any theories about anything?”
“What?” Ava’s voice got a little louder over the line. “You’re going to solve this, aren’t you? You solved the Derrick Robbins case down in Santa Barbara. I was there, remember? I almost got killed along with you. And you solved the mess that cropped up around the movie shoot here in Maiden’s Bay. I figured you’d already be at work, out there with Sheriff Clements.”
“For one thing, it’s not just Sheriff Clements. There’s an investigator from the state police who definitely doesn’t want me butting in. For another, I don’t want to get involved.”
“How can you say that?” Ava’s voice took on a “that’s just crazy talk” tone—the tone of a managing editor seeing hopes for additional circulation flying out the window.
“As I remember it, you weren’t all that eager to see me get involved in those other cases.”
“Liza.” Now Ava sounded like a schoolteacher trying to point out to an extremely dense student that two and two actually equal four. “Your column goes national in a couple of weeks. Think what it would mean if you also made the news pages in all those papers.”
“Listen to me, Ava,” Liza said. “I’m not getting involved in this. I mean it.”
Well, they had literally been best friends for forever, painting sample polish on each other’s bitten nails as kids, giggling over boys. Ava could tell when she was serious. Her brief silence showed that she’d gotten the message.
“We can talk about that later,” Ava offered diplomatically. Then her managing editor side came out. “But there’s still the story about what happened at the inn. You don’t have to write anything,” she said quickly. “I’ll just put Murph on the line, and you can answer a few questions—”
“No,” Liza said. “Give me a little time to get my head together, and then I’ll come in. You’ll understand a little better about how I feel after I talk with you.”
Like how I’d hate to see all the juicy details splashed across the media, she added silently.
“Okay,” Ava said uncertainly. “Later, then.” She took a breath. “Which I hope means sooner, if you know what I mean.”
“I know the paper has a deadline. Just give me a little time to sort things out. Bye, Ava.” Liza hung up the phone.
Her fingers were still on the handset when the damned thing began ringing again. Had Ava thought up some new, last-minute argument? Taking a deep breath, Liza brought the instrument to her ear.
“I’d begun to think you had died instead of that art thief,” Michelle
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