Dead By Dusk by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

wanted to read,” Lena said, smiling. “He’s really fond of picture books.”
    â€œEh! You spent the day staring at some guy’s abs!” Doug ribbed her.
    â€œWell, last night is over—the good and the bad of it—and we’re together now,” Stephanie said firmly. Could this guy be Grant? That would be far too . . . bizarre. The American population was somewhere around three billion. Surely, lots of that number were into archeology and travel!
    And if it was Grant?
    She was a professional. And she was running this show. And she hadn’t seen a single archeologist yet—there was no reason she should!
    She cleared her throat. “I’m glad you’re all here. Except that, we’re still missing two of our group?” She looked at all of them.
    Arturo, who had been sitting idly at the back table, spoke up, “Clay Barton is on his way now. His plane from Rome to Naples was delayed.”
    â€œI see,” Stephanie murmured. Perhaps he should have started traveling earlier, since he’d been due yesterday. “What about Gema Harris?”
    At first, no one spoke.
    Then, uneasily, Lena said, “I went by her place to get her on my way in. I thought she’d left already because there was no answer.”
    â€œDid you go in?” Doug asked.
    â€œOf course I didn’t go in!” Lena said. “I knocked and rang the little buzzer, and she didn’t answer.”
    â€œWas her door locked?” Drew asked.
    â€œI don’t know. I didn’t try it,” Lena said.
    â€œMight she have overslept?” Stephanie asked.
    â€œI can go back,” Lena said.
    â€œNo, we’re still missing Clay, too, but the four of you are here. We’ll get started,” Stephanie said. “Arturo—would you mind sending someone to look for Gema?”
    From the back of the café, he nodded and rose.
    â€œShe was talking about going to Rome,” Drew murmured. Stephanie stared at him sharply and he shrugged. “She . . . well, you haven’t met her yet. She’s apparently the type who likes a little more action than we have around here. Nice girl, really. I think. But she’s . . . I don’t know. She’s in a hurry. She made some comment the other day about the fact that it was unlikely that Hollywood was going to discover her here.”
    â€œSo she would have just taken off without resigning?” Stephanie said.
    Doug rubbed his chin. “I don’t think so.”
    â€œWell, Arturo will see if he can find her,” Stephanie said. “I was told that everyone had received our improv ‘bible.’ Is that correct?” Her question was answered by nods, and the four went about, picking up their notebooks where they’d been left on tables around the room. Suzette pointed out the coffeepot and cups, and Stephanie helped herself before the group gathered around one of the café tables. “Let’s just make sure we’re all going in the same direction. There are seven loose outlines, allowing us to change the script around every day with one extra, since we’re going to be black on Monday nights. The café becomes the World Traveler’s Club—Suzette, you’re the maid—”
    â€œGreat. With her background, she’s a French maid,” Drew observed.
    â€œNo, we’re going to go with some stereotypes and work with others. She’s going to be the American maid,” Stephanie said.
    â€œI can actually speak French, though,” Suzette said. “My dad’s from Nice,” she explained.
    â€œThere’s a terrific bit for your character,” Stephanie pointed out. “You can be the American maid who always tries to pretend that she’s the French maid.”
    â€œCool,” Suzette agreed.
    â€œBut she’s sexy and wears a short skirt, right?” Drew asked.
    Stephanie smiled. “Well, we can play off that, too. She