Markson’s voice came crisply across the line.
Michelle was not one to go gently into the night—or anywhere else, for that matter. She had used a forceful personality to create an impressive public relations fiefdom, her sharp tongue turning Hollywood movers and shakers into quakers instead. And even though Liza had attained the position of Michelle’s partner, that didn’t mean Michelle considered Liza her equal.
Michelle had her own plans for using the murder at the inn for publicity purposes. While her strategy resembled Ava’s, her tactics were quite different.
“First and foremost, don’t let your little friend on the Podunk Gazette think she’s going to control the flow of information.”
“It’s the Oregon Daily, ” Liza corrected her for the fiftieth time.
“Whatever.” Michelle didn’t bother to keep the dismissive tone out of her voice. If a media outlet didn’t have national penetration, she wasn’t interested. The only local newspaper she paid any attention to was the Hollywood Reporter .
“Art theft is usually a bit too cerebral for the Evening Entertainment News ,” Michelle went on, mentioning one of the bigger TV tabloid shows. “They’ll probably have to coach their people on how to pronounce Mondrian’s name, but three million dollars should be understandable enough. The question is, how quickly can you uncover the murderer and find the picture? There’s been a drought of good celebrity scandal—I swear to God, they were reduced to doing a piece on Shilon expecting her first permanent teeth last night.”
“I’m not sticking my nose in this killing,” Liza said firmly.
“You know, dear, you’ve achieved a certain reputation for figuring out what the police can’t,” Michelle pointed out. A reputation that you’ve pushed pretty shamelessly while beating the drums for my new column, Liza thought. “People might find it strange that you refuse to get into this case.”
“I had strong reasons to get involved in those other cases,” Liza said. “First a friend was murdered, and then a client had her career and film debut threatened. This time around, I don’t have that kind of personal connection, and I’d prefer to let the professionals do it.”
“I don’t think this will help your reputation, Liza.”
“But now you think playing detective will?” Liza glared at the phone. “Someone gave me an interesting sidelight on amateur sleuths—they either turn out to be cranks or publicity seekers.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Michelle said sweetly. “Well, I wasn’t expecting instant progress, anyway.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Liza warned. She hung up just as Rusty, Kevin, and Mrs. H. came back in.
“Well, that’s gotten most of the silliness out of his system.” Mrs. H. leaned down to scratch Rusty behind the ears.
“Oh, good. I thought you meant me.” Kevin glanced at his watch. “But I’m afraid there’s lots of silliness waiting for me back at the inn.” Liza gave him the slicker and quickly changed into her usual parka to see Kevin out to his SUV.
As he drove away, Mrs. H. took hold of Liza’s sleeve. “Could you come and join me for a cup of tea?” she asked. “I need to speak with you.”
They were walking along the newly cleared path when they saw the first signs of traffic along Hackleberry Avenue other than Kevin’s black behemoth. A nondescript sedan that might as well have been flying a flag that said “rental car” tried to get round Kevin—not an easy job given the size of his SUV and the width of plowed roadway. The car’s rear wheels whined in slush and the vehicle fishtailed its way past, coming down the avenue toward them.
It pulled up in front of Mrs. H.’s house just as she and Liza arrived. The driver levered himself out and scrambled across a pile of shoveled snow to get to them. Liza recognized the brown polyester parka before she placed the pinched features. It was Howard Frost.
“Elise
Michelle was not one to go gently into the night—or anywhere else, for that matter. She had used a forceful personality to create an impressive public relations fiefdom, her sharp tongue turning Hollywood movers and shakers into quakers instead. And even though Liza had attained the position of Michelle’s partner, that didn’t mean Michelle considered Liza her equal.
Michelle had her own plans for using the murder at the inn for publicity purposes. While her strategy resembled Ava’s, her tactics were quite different.
“First and foremost, don’t let your little friend on the Podunk Gazette think she’s going to control the flow of information.”
“It’s the Oregon Daily, ” Liza corrected her for the fiftieth time.
“Whatever.” Michelle didn’t bother to keep the dismissive tone out of her voice. If a media outlet didn’t have national penetration, she wasn’t interested. The only local newspaper she paid any attention to was the Hollywood Reporter .
“Art theft is usually a bit too cerebral for the Evening Entertainment News ,” Michelle went on, mentioning one of the bigger TV tabloid shows. “They’ll probably have to coach their people on how to pronounce Mondrian’s name, but three million dollars should be understandable enough. The question is, how quickly can you uncover the murderer and find the picture? There’s been a drought of good celebrity scandal—I swear to God, they were reduced to doing a piece on Shilon expecting her first permanent teeth last night.”
“I’m not sticking my nose in this killing,” Liza said firmly.
“You know, dear, you’ve achieved a certain reputation for figuring out what the police can’t,” Michelle pointed out. A reputation that you’ve pushed pretty shamelessly while beating the drums for my new column, Liza thought. “People might find it strange that you refuse to get into this case.”
“I had strong reasons to get involved in those other cases,” Liza said. “First a friend was murdered, and then a client had her career and film debut threatened. This time around, I don’t have that kind of personal connection, and I’d prefer to let the professionals do it.”
“I don’t think this will help your reputation, Liza.”
“But now you think playing detective will?” Liza glared at the phone. “Someone gave me an interesting sidelight on amateur sleuths—they either turn out to be cranks or publicity seekers.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Michelle said sweetly. “Well, I wasn’t expecting instant progress, anyway.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Liza warned. She hung up just as Rusty, Kevin, and Mrs. H. came back in.
“Well, that’s gotten most of the silliness out of his system.” Mrs. H. leaned down to scratch Rusty behind the ears.
“Oh, good. I thought you meant me.” Kevin glanced at his watch. “But I’m afraid there’s lots of silliness waiting for me back at the inn.” Liza gave him the slicker and quickly changed into her usual parka to see Kevin out to his SUV.
As he drove away, Mrs. H. took hold of Liza’s sleeve. “Could you come and join me for a cup of tea?” she asked. “I need to speak with you.”
They were walking along the newly cleared path when they saw the first signs of traffic along Hackleberry Avenue other than Kevin’s black behemoth. A nondescript sedan that might as well have been flying a flag that said “rental car” tried to get round Kevin—not an easy job given the size of his SUV and the width of plowed roadway. The car’s rear wheels whined in slush and the vehicle fishtailed its way past, coming down the avenue toward them.
It pulled up in front of Mrs. H.’s house just as she and Liza arrived. The driver levered himself out and scrambled across a pile of shoveled snow to get to them. Liza recognized the brown polyester parka before she placed the pinched features. It was Howard Frost.
“Elise
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