Murder Packs a Suitcase by Cynthia Baxter Read Free Book Online Page B

Princess,” the second man said haughtily, “we strive to create an atmosphere that’s pleasing to everyone. That includes children, senior citizens, and asthmatics.”
    â€œWhat about smokers?” the testy traveler shot back. “Where are our rights?”
    â€œNever a dull moment, eh?” a deep male voice interjected.
    Mallory had been finding the scene unfolding in front of her so horrifying—and so enthralling—she hadn’t noticed that someone had sat down next to her. She turned and saw a man with ridiculously blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair directing a warm smile at her.
    â€œBut that’s one of the things I like best about traveling,” he added. “You’re always encountering something you didn’t expect.”
    â€œAnyone who’s ever spent more than five minutes with Phil expects him to act like that,” Annabelle insisted.
    â€œYou know him?” Mallory asked.
    â€œSure. That’s Phil Diamond. He’s one of the writers on this trip.”
    Great, Mallory thought, groaning inwardly. So I have five whole days of Malice in Wonderland to look forward to.
    â€œHe’s probably cranky from the trip,” Frieda said tartly. “Then there’s the fact that he’s not exactly working for a top-of-the-line publication these days. What’s that website he’s been writing for lately?”
    Annabelle snorted. “It’s got some silly name, like I’dRatherStayHome-dot-com.”
    â€œActually,” the newcomer to their group said, “I believe it’s called BeenThereDoneThat-dot-com. It’s geared toward the experienced traveler who’s covered all the usual destinations and is looking for something new.”
    â€œWhat about you?” Mallory asked him. Talking to Blue Eyes about Blue Eyes seemed like a lot more fun than discussing their surly traveling companion. “Who are you and who do you write for?”
    â€œI’m Wade McKay,” he replied, shaking her hand. “And I’m not really a writer. I publish a lifestyle magazine called
Living Well.
It’s very much like
The Good Life,
in fact.”
    She raised her eyebrows. “How did you know I’m the one who writes for
The Good Life
?”
    â€œProcess of elimination. You don’t look like you write for seniors or travelers on a budget. And you’re clearly not Phil Diamond.” Once again he rewarded her with a smile that was so engaging she half expected his teeth to glint. “I also know you used to write for the
Rivington Record.
”
    Startled, she asked, “How do you know that?”
    â€œI always do my research. I made a point of finding out whatever I could about everyone who was coming on this trip with me. And that included you. At least, after the Florida Tourism Board e-mailed all of us to say you’d be replacing the magazine’s former travel writer. You’d be amazed at all the cool stuff you can learn by Googling someone’s name.”
    â€œIn that case, I don’t know if I should feel flattered or paranoid,” Mallory commented.
    He grinned. “If I had a choice between the two, I’d definitely go with flattered.”
    â€œSo you’re on a press trip even though you’re not a writer,” Mallory said, trying to deflect what she thought might have been a compliment.
    â€œGuilty as charged. Actually, I usually send someone from my staff on travel junkets like this one. That is, whenever the opportunity to travel to a destination that seems right for our readers comes up. But Toronto gets pretty gray in January, so I decided to take advantage of this one.”
    â€œAh. You’re Canadian,” Mallory observed.
    â€œThat’s right.” Grinning again, he added, “But my English is good enough that I can usually pass myself off as American.”
    She laughed. “It sounds as if you don’t get to do much