Dead Letters by Sheila Connolly Read Free Book Online

stood up, gathered her things, and headed for the nearest exit door, all the while scanning the crowd. She stopped at the door, her eyes fixed on someone halfway across the room, who had just pulled a cell phone from his pocket and answered it. Clearly he didn’t like what he was hearing. He hung up quickly, then looked around until he spotted Jennifer near the door. She waved him over. He stood and made his excuses to the people at his table, then wove his way around several tables before stopping to lean close to Jennifer. He said a sentence or two, and she nodded before they both turned and went through the door at a brisk clip.
    Who was he? Fortyish, slender, and nicely dressed but rather washed out in coloring, he looked vaguely familiar, but he wasn’t anyone I knew personally. Most likely Jennifer’s boss, whose name escaped me at the moment. They’d both seemed extraordinarily upset, and I wondered what kind of museum crisis could inspire that strong a response. But it wasn’t really my business, so I turned my attention back to the droning speaker and tried to keep my eyelids up until the coffee was served.
    After dessert and the accompanying platitudes, Shelby and I found our way out to the sidewalk. The fresh air felt good after being cooped up in the ballroom for a couple of hours.
    “A little stuffy in there, wasn’t it?” Shelby asked as we waited for the light to change so we could cross Market Street.
    “The air or the speeches?” I smiled at her. “You’d better get used to it. A lot of these people made their money the old-fashioned way: they inherited it.”
    “Not so much of that these days, is there?”
    I sighed. “Sad to say, no. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, as the saying goes. You’d better sharpen up your grant-writing tools.”
    “I’m ready and willing. But you’ve got to tell me what we should focus on first.”
    “I know, I know.” Our needs were many and the resources few. It was hard to set priorities when what we needed to do was everything. “You’ve seen the shopping list, and now you’ve heard what the funders are looking for. See if you can match them up, and I’ll run the options by the board at our next meeting and see if they have any connections with the funders.”
    Shoptalk took us back to the Society. We went up to the administrative floor and parted ways, to our respective offices. When I settled myself at my desk, I realized that it was indeed time to set Shelby to hunting for funds. She’d been at the Society long enough to get to know us, and outside money was drying up fast, thanks to the current financial markets. I pulled out a pad and started making a list.

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Sheila Connolly
    Orchard Mysteries
    ONE BAD APPLE
    ROTTEN TO THE CORE
    RED DELICIOUS DEATH
    A KILLER CROP
    BITTER HARVEST
    Museum Mysteries
    FUNDRAISING THE DEAD
    LET’S PLAY DEAD
    FIRE ENGINE DEAD
    eSpecials
    DEAD LETTERS