Read Online White Elephant Dead by Carolyn G. Hart - Free Book Online Page B

are damn skittish. We don’t want ours to relax so we’re going to push every possible lever. We have to catch the murderer to save Henny. And we damn well are going to do it as fast as we can.”
    Soft-soled shoes slapped behind them. “Hey, lady, aren’t you a close relative of patient Brawley?”
    Annie whirled to face the emergency room clerk. Emma stood totally still, her square face bleak.
    The clerk tossed her head and her wilted ponytail quivered. “We can’t look after personal effects in emergency and they won’t take it in ICU. Here’s her stuff,” and she thrust a blue plastic bag into Annie’s hands, then turned and shuffled away on her soft-soled slippers.
    Emma’s eyes glinted as the steps faded away. “There goes my next victim. It will be a pleasure. I’m torn between a garrote and a toppling statue.”
    Annie clutched the blue plastic bag, wished her heart would stop thudding. “Or drop her into a pool with piranhas.”
    “I’ve done that.” Emma’s smile was as satisfied as an island alligator on a sunny bank. She pushed open the glass door.
    Annie looked back longingly at the vending machines.
    Emma was unmoved. “You can eat when you get home.” She gave Annie an encouraging shove onto the sidewalk. “I’ll give you a lift. I want to get to my office and organize for tomorrow.”
    The steamy air made Annie think of lifting the lid on a pot of chicken dumplings. Visions of delectable golden dumplings parted long enough for Annie to realize they were at Emma’s pink Rolls-Royce.
    Emma poked into her oversize canvas bag—
    Was there any food in there?
    —pulled out gold-plated keys linked to a medallion with a likeness of Marigold Rembrandt, and a couple of sheets of computer paper. “I went home and printed out Kathryn’s White Elephant pick-up list before I came to the hospital. Here’s a copy for you. I am puzzled by it, I must admit. You’ll see what’s wrong—”
    Headlights swept up the hospital drive. Max’s crimson Maserati slid to a stop behind Emma’s car. He jumped out, waved. “Hi, Annie, Emma. Got some dinner. Plenty for both of you.” He held up a picnic basket. Annie would havedashed to the food faster than Mary Daheim’s Judith McMonigle Flynn whipping up a feast, had it not been for Emma’s implacable grip.
    “—the minute you look it over. I’ll see you at the club in the morning. Nine sharp.”
    Annie would have promised to scale the Himalayas to win her release. “Sure. You bet. Nine.”
    Emma turned to greet Max, and Annie held out her arms for the picnic basket. She managed a thank-you before the first bite melted into delight.
    “Oh, no thanks, Max.” Emma declined a sandwich. “I had some vegetable juice earlier.”
    Annie was inhaling the sandwich. She flicked a disbelieving glance at Emma’s girth. Veggie juice! And maybe some pork rinds and cashews on the side? Or did Emma eat bat wings and stewed entrails? No way did her ordinary dinner consist of V-8.
    Emma reported on Henny’s condition and the posting of the auxiliary by the ICU while Annie devoured the first sandwich and grabbed the second. She intended to alert Max that Laurel had her first undercover assignment, but she spotted the brownies.
    “…so we’ll get everything in full swing tomorrow.”
    As soon as Emma’s elegant car pulled away from the curb, Max reached for the picnic basket. “Come on, Annie, you can finish eating while we drive.”
    Annie grabbed the baggie with the brownies and wondered at the urgency in his tone. She settled in her seat and addressed the first raspberry brownie. As far as she was concerned, RBs combined the planet’s most exquisite flavors.
    “Sam Porter’s working the gate tonight,” Max said crisply.
    Annie licked a vagrant smear of raspberry from her fingers. “That’s nice,” she observed amiably. Sam was a grizzled Marine veteran who was fond of Parotti’s Bar and Grill (coldest beer, freshest bait) and surf fishing. “He’s