Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series) by Dane McCaslin Read Free Book Online Page A

seemed to be moving, flickering off and on.
    Here goes nothing, I thought, and sat up in bed, switching on the bedside lamp in one swift movement. A loud clinking sound, like metal against glass, could be heard: someone was definitely in my suite. I slid from the covers as stealthily as I could, managing to catch one foot in the trailing sheet and tripping myself. Great.
    The noises ceased. I froze, trying hard not to breathe, straining my ears to listen for something to give me a clue as to who had decided to make themselves at home in my private quarters. They must have been listening for me as well. Drawing in a deep breath, I jumped through the open bedroom door, leaping like a deranged frog at the figure that was leaning into my refrigerator.
    I’m pretty sure that I squealed the louder. Ellie was a close second, the two of us jumping sky high as we ran smack-dab into each other.
    ‘Oh, my God! Ellie! What in the world are you doing here?’ I exclaimed, trying to regain my balance and clutch my chest at the same time. ‘And how in the world did you get in?’ So much for tight security, I grumbled to myself.
    Ellie can recover quickly from surprise. She demonstrated this talent for me by leaning casually on the kitchen counter, crossing her arms and giving me her famous glare.
    ‘I would think you’d be happy to see me, AJ,’ she said huffily, eyes narrowing and brows drawn together. Ellie is also one of the world’s worst for getting offended over nothing.
    ‘I am, Ellie, I’m just – well, how in the world did you even know where my room was?’ Ellie had a knack for getting into places – she’d done this sort of thing before. It still didn’t explain how she found me so easily, though.
    That came out sounding like I was hiding out, trying to avoid her, not the smartest move when trying to defuse her bad temper. Simple conversations could become a test of walking on eggshells whenever Ellie was in one of her moods. I was digging a deep verbal hole and doing it fast. I looked around the room for a distraction, still feeling a bit discombobulated, what with being awakened by Ellie sneaking in like a burglar and then almost having a heart attack in my own kitchen. And the only answer I’d got from her was an exaggerated eye roll: Ellie could be incredibly tight-lipped when she wanted to be.
    ‘What time is it?’ I asked, brushing unruly hair from my face and wrapping my arms tightly around my middle. It was awfully chilly in my suite.
    ‘It’s a little past four,’ Ellie answered, apparently deciding to forgo the huffiness for a moment.
    ‘Four? As in “four in the morning”?’ I exclaimed, looking at her incredulously. ‘What in heaven’s name made you drive all the way down here in the middle of the night, Ellie?’
    ‘Well, that’s gratitude for you,’ Ellie said, addressing the ceiling. ‘I came down here, AJ, because I know you’re in danger.’
    I snorted. ‘I am not in danger, Ellie. The Miramar is perfectly safe. And you did come down here on your own accord,’ I pointed out ungraciously. ‘So you can’t be that afraid to be here.’
    Ellie harrumphed, turning back to the fridge and opening it once more. Along with possessing mercurial moods, Ellie has a metabolism that allows her to eat more than any single being I know and not have any lasting damage to show for it. I, on the other hand, only have to think about chocolate and I gain weight. (Note to self: slow down on the cookies.)
    I yawned. Clearly Ellie was here to stay and I was past going back to bed. I could use something to wake me up since, apparently, my day had already started.
    ‘I can call for something to eat, maybe get us some coffee, Ellie,’ I offered.
    There is nothing like food for a peace offering, especially with Ellie. Over the years I’ve gotten to be quite the master of judging what kind of goodies will bring her out of a sour mood and back on friendlier terms.
    ‘You have room service? And this