Ms America and the Offing on Oahu (Beauty Queen Mysteries No. 1) by Diana Dempsey Read Free Book Online

“I’m thrilled and honored, sir. That’s incredible. Thank you.”
    “Don’t thank me. But don’t let me find out you’re lying about this murder business, either.”
    I can see how that would be a dealbreaker. “I won’t. And I’m not.” I try to catch my breath. I wish this victory sounded more set in stone but I guess this is as definite as it’s going to get. I sure hope Detective Momoa starts sniffing around elsewhere. What if he keeps pestering me and Cantwell decides it’s not worth the brain damage having his new Ms. America be suspected of murder most foul in the isolation booth?
    Magnolia interrupts these distressing thoughts by reappearing with a porcelain coffee set.
    “Too late now,” Cantwell informs her. He rises from his chair and to me says, “Chop, chop. The press conference is downstairs in half an hour. It’s already past eleven on the east coast and I want a new headline for the noon broadcasts.”
    I bow and scrape a few more times and then bolt from the suite. Ms. America cannot accept her crown and scepter wearing a Juicy Couture tracksuit, regardless of its timeless appeal.
    I have one thought as I race to my room. Fighting with Tiffany in that isolation booth turns out to have been the best thing I ever did. I was never fiercer or more determined than when I exited that booth and look what it got me? My first national title.
    I know Tiffany’s not in her grave yet. But if she were, she’d be rolling over.

CHAPTER SIX

    I am happy to report that my first press conference as a national beauty pageant winner comes and goes without a single disaster. I think that’s pretty impressive given that I hadn’t slept all night and was still in kind of a daze over the fact that I’d won.
    Jason waylays me the second my stilletoed feet step off the dais. “Hey, Ms. America.” His smile is as bright as neon. He gives me a soft kiss on the lips, about the most we can swing given that reporters and pageant people are still milling around the banquet room. “I told you you’d win! Congratulations.”
    “Thanks.” I grin. I’ve been grinning a lot in the last few hours.
    “You look pretty darn hot, too.”
    I must agree. I’m wearing a “ladies who lunch” suit, a bright pink Jackie O affair with a sweet little collar and three-quarter-length sleeves and big cloth-covered buttons and a slim knee-length skirt. Unlike Jackie’s, mine is accessorized with a rhinestone tiara. I bought the suit for the preliminary interviews with the judges, which calls for a classier look than other competition events. Like swimsuit, for example, which demands skin and spray tan and little else.
    “So.” He lowers his voice. “Now that the competition’s officially over, think we can celebrate in private?”
    I give him a sly wink. “I don’t see why not.”
    His smile gets wider.
    “But it has to be later.” The grin fades. “Mr. Cantwell says I have paperwork to sign. The contract, I think.”
    “You sign that baby fast. The quicker you do — ”
    “The quicker I get the prize money. I know.” I can’t believe it. A quarter of a million dollars. It’s a mind-boggling amount of cash. It’s more than our house is worth. That makes something occur to me. “You know what? Maybe you can go after your dream now.”
    “You’re right!” He rubs his hands together. “Flat-screen TV, baby. HD, 47-inch widescreen — ”
    “That’s not what I meant, Jason.”
    He looks confused.
    “Pit school! You’ve been talking about it for years.”
    “Well … sort of.” He frowns. “It’s a lot of time away from home.”
    “The point is, now we can afford it. And the timing’s good because I’ll be away sometimes traveling for the pageant.”
    He shrugs. “I don’t know. Most people who do the training don’t get a NASCAR job anyway. So it’s kind of a waste of time.”
    I slap him playfully on the arm. “Since when is bettering yourself a waste of time?”
    He narrows his eyes.