Ghost to the Rescue by Carolyn Hart Read Free Book Online

“We’re a new online magazine set tolaunch next month. Everything’s under wraps until we come out with a big announcement next week. We’re based in Austin. Top secret.”
    â€œ
Rabbit’s Foot
?” He was trying to wrap his mind around it.
    â€œFor luck, you know. Everybody needs a rabbit’s foot, especially if they Want to Be in the Know.” I can speak in caps with a flourish. “We’re launching with a big article on unlocking the world of writers. Your conference has a great reputation. I intend to do an in-depth interview tomorrow with Jay Knox.” If that sounded as though I’d spoken to Jay and the interview was set, everyone must interpret what they hear as best they can. “Tonight I’m rounding up personal views of him. Perhaps you can point me to some people here who know him well.”
    Randall’s light blue eyes gleamed with interest. Free positive publicity charms most college administrators. He launched into a detailed description of the English Department and the creative writing section. I was attentive and admiring. He was expansive by the time he pointed out possible sources for me.
    As he spoke, I studied them.
    Maureen Matthews, Jay Knox’s second in command, according to Randall, was a fortyish brunette with a haggard beauty, high cheekbones, a beautifully sculpted jawline. She wasn’t engaged in conversation, but instead lingered at the edge of a group, apparently listening.
    Liz Baker, a recent graduate, sat at a small table half-hidden in the shadow of a rubber tree. She appeared tense and wary, hands folded into tight fists. Occasionally, she flicked an uncertain glance at her companion. He was young, too, sandy-haired, slender, sullen. He held an almost empty glass in one hand, stared at it. On happier days, Liz Baker would have had a delicate charm, with her thin face and fine features framed by dark brown hair. Her clothes were inexpensive andsimple but attractive, a sleeveless white cotton shirtdress with scalloped edges and white sandals, a welcome change from the sea of black on the older women.
    Harry Toomey, Deirdre’s competition for the faculty job, leaned back in an overstuffed chair. He looked expansive and slightly drunk. Lank brown hair straggled on each side of a moon face with a wispy mustache. He was forty pounds overweight, much of it bulging against a tight pea green polo.
    â€œ. . . and that’s Jay’s agent, Cliff Granger, fourth from the end of the bar. I don’t see Jay’s editor, Jessica Forbes, but I’m sure you can find her tomorrow.”
    â€œI definitely will.” I started to turn away, then said brightly, “Oh, by the way, I’ll do a special inset about the new creative writing teacher. I’ve asked around and everyone is thrilled. Deirdre Davenport’s a marvelous choice.”
    Randall looked startled, then pleased. He assumed I had learned Jay Knox’s choice by talking to him.
    I put a finger to my lips. “But hush-hush until tomorrow, right?”
    I hurried away. I’d made a start in positioning Deirdre as the de facto appointee. It wasn’t a trump card but it might play well when I confronted Jay Knox.
    I looked in turn at Maureen Matthews, Liz Baker, and Harry Toomey. Maureen didn’t look especially approachable, but she looked highly intelligent, skeptical, and observant.
    I chose Maureen.

Chapter 3
    M aureen Matthews turned as I spoke to her. “Ms. Matthews, I’m Judy Hope. Dr. Randall suggested I speak to you.”
    She gazed at me politely, her violet eyes inquiring. She was taller than I, slender and lovely in a rose print linen dress with a bateau neck and a graceful midcalf length. She listened without comment as I described
Rabbit’s Foot
. “. . . and if I could visit with you for a moment, I’d be most grateful.”
    She smiled and nodded, a faculty member dutifully responding to