Ms.
Bridgewater?”
“They are locked in a vault here behind the
desk.”
“Does the vault remain locked?”
“Yes, it’s never opened unless there’s a need
to use a master key.”
“Who’s responsible for unlocking it?”
“The vault is opened with a combination and
I’m the only one who knows it.”
“Who opens it if you’re not available?”
“Only Mr. Buchanan, the chairman of the
association.”
“Do you happen to know where he was the night
of the murder?”
“Yes. He and his wife are celebrating their
fortieth wedding anniversary. Currently, they’re in Africa on a
safari.”
“And you?”
“Home, in bed with my husband.”
Mace pulled a card from his shirt pocket and
handed it to her. “Thank you, Ms. Bridgewater. Please call me if
you can think of anything else we should know.”
“I will, detective. Meanwhile, you boys find
out who did this and lock them up good and tight.”
“We’ll do our best, ma’am.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Sunlight peeked through the living room
window of Marnie’s apartment, casting weird-shaped shadows over the
furniture – shadows that normally wouldn’t have bothered her until
she found a corpse in her own living room. Although she knew the
cylinder shape resting near the sofa was simply the exaggerated
outline of the vase on the coffee table, she still avoided it at
all costs. Funny how murder made one paranoid.
“It won’t bite, Dara.”
Startled, she spun around and narrowed her
gaze at her best friend. “Ha, ha.”
Marnie draped her arms across Dara’s
shoulders and squeezed. “I’m sorry. You’re already familiar with my
warped sense of humor.”
That made her grin. Thank God Marnie had an
uncanny knack for taking the worst and spinning it into humor.
“Yeah, I do.”
“So, what’s in store for us today?”
“We need to visit Georgette Swanson.”
Marnie groaned and mumbled something under
her breath.
“What?” Dara frowned. “I thought you liked
Georgette.”
“I do and her novels are awesome.”
“But?”
“She intimidates me.”
“Why?”
“Oh come on, Dara. She’s maybe a size two
with breasts tight as a drum. She never has a hair out of place and
her skin glows so brightly it’s noticeable through sunglasses.”
“True.” Dara giggled, silently agreeing
wholeheartedly with Marnie’s sentiment. “But she’s as good as
gold.”
“Do you think her review upset her enough to
commit murder?”
“No. Evelyn’s throat was slit and your
description proves that method is a little messy for Georgette.
Besides, she’s female.”
“Then why should we bother her?”
Dara shrugged. “She might tell us something
we don’t know about murder.”
“Maybe we should stop by the salon
first.”
“No time.” She pushed her friend back toward
the bedroom. “Don’t dawdle. Something tells me our two favorite
detectives share our intellect and we need to be absolutely sure we
get there first.”
“Fine,” Marnie groused, “but at least let me
throw on some make-up.”
Thirty minutes later, Dara breathed a sigh of
relief when Marnie parked her car in Georgette’s driveway, thankful
that the cement slab was unoccupied by a Primrose Police Department
vehicle.
She flipped down the visor in front of her
seat and took a quick glance into the lighted mirror.
“What are you doing?” Marnie asked from the
driver’s seat.
Dara gave her a cheeky grin. “Just
checking.”
“At least it’s not just me,” her friend
grumbled.
Dara tucked the visor back into place and
then opened the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”
As soon as the door opened, she pushed all
thoughts of appearance to the side, despite Georgette’s
perfectly-styled hair, French manicured fingernails and stylish
tank top and jeans. She could’ve sworn Marnie groaned under her
breath.
“Dara! Marnie!” Georgette pulled both of them
into a welcoming hug. “I’m so glad you called.”
Georgette swept them both inside the
Bridgewater?”
“They are locked in a vault here behind the
desk.”
“Does the vault remain locked?”
“Yes, it’s never opened unless there’s a need
to use a master key.”
“Who’s responsible for unlocking it?”
“The vault is opened with a combination and
I’m the only one who knows it.”
“Who opens it if you’re not available?”
“Only Mr. Buchanan, the chairman of the
association.”
“Do you happen to know where he was the night
of the murder?”
“Yes. He and his wife are celebrating their
fortieth wedding anniversary. Currently, they’re in Africa on a
safari.”
“And you?”
“Home, in bed with my husband.”
Mace pulled a card from his shirt pocket and
handed it to her. “Thank you, Ms. Bridgewater. Please call me if
you can think of anything else we should know.”
“I will, detective. Meanwhile, you boys find
out who did this and lock them up good and tight.”
“We’ll do our best, ma’am.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Sunlight peeked through the living room
window of Marnie’s apartment, casting weird-shaped shadows over the
furniture – shadows that normally wouldn’t have bothered her until
she found a corpse in her own living room. Although she knew the
cylinder shape resting near the sofa was simply the exaggerated
outline of the vase on the coffee table, she still avoided it at
all costs. Funny how murder made one paranoid.
“It won’t bite, Dara.”
Startled, she spun around and narrowed her
gaze at her best friend. “Ha, ha.”
Marnie draped her arms across Dara’s
shoulders and squeezed. “I’m sorry. You’re already familiar with my
warped sense of humor.”
That made her grin. Thank God Marnie had an
uncanny knack for taking the worst and spinning it into humor.
“Yeah, I do.”
“So, what’s in store for us today?”
“We need to visit Georgette Swanson.”
Marnie groaned and mumbled something under
her breath.
“What?” Dara frowned. “I thought you liked
Georgette.”
“I do and her novels are awesome.”
“But?”
“She intimidates me.”
“Why?”
“Oh come on, Dara. She’s maybe a size two
with breasts tight as a drum. She never has a hair out of place and
her skin glows so brightly it’s noticeable through sunglasses.”
“True.” Dara giggled, silently agreeing
wholeheartedly with Marnie’s sentiment. “But she’s as good as
gold.”
“Do you think her review upset her enough to
commit murder?”
“No. Evelyn’s throat was slit and your
description proves that method is a little messy for Georgette.
Besides, she’s female.”
“Then why should we bother her?”
Dara shrugged. “She might tell us something
we don’t know about murder.”
“Maybe we should stop by the salon
first.”
“No time.” She pushed her friend back toward
the bedroom. “Don’t dawdle. Something tells me our two favorite
detectives share our intellect and we need to be absolutely sure we
get there first.”
“Fine,” Marnie groused, “but at least let me
throw on some make-up.”
Thirty minutes later, Dara breathed a sigh of
relief when Marnie parked her car in Georgette’s driveway, thankful
that the cement slab was unoccupied by a Primrose Police Department
vehicle.
She flipped down the visor in front of her
seat and took a quick glance into the lighted mirror.
“What are you doing?” Marnie asked from the
driver’s seat.
Dara gave her a cheeky grin. “Just
checking.”
“At least it’s not just me,” her friend
grumbled.
Dara tucked the visor back into place and
then opened the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”
As soon as the door opened, she pushed all
thoughts of appearance to the side, despite Georgette’s
perfectly-styled hair, French manicured fingernails and stylish
tank top and jeans. She could’ve sworn Marnie groaned under her
breath.
“Dara! Marnie!” Georgette pulled both of them
into a welcoming hug. “I’m so glad you called.”
Georgette swept them both inside the
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