Murder's Last Resort by Marta Chausée Read Free Book Online Page A

only for a needed stretch, but also for the chance to look at all those potential murderers from a different angle.
    “Maya, you are beautiful and as light as a cream puff in my arms and probably twice as yummy,” Brett said to me, smiling with both his lips and his chocolatey eyes.
    “Brett,” I said. “You are a shameless flatterer, and really corny but, hey—don’t stop!” We both laughed.
    French had told me long ago that Fitz was like a big, snuggly teddy bear. Women loved to hold him close and he loved to be held.
    What does Brett have that makes a gal want to melt into him? What makes him cuddly, while Torrey’s vibe was always lecherous and icky?
    Brett kept me swirling and dipping, my gown floating gracefully along behind me, until I felt like a professional ballroom dancer. At a slow point in one of our sweeping turns, I cast a glance at a nearby table. There sat Brett’s wife, Diane, giving me the old stink eye.
    Didn’t she know that I love my French? That I have no designs on her old teddy bear of a husband? Not every woman is trying to get into his tighty whites. I tried to beam my thoughts to her as I waved and smiled.
    She sat there with a dark cloud wrapped around her bitter little shoulders. I haven’t walked in her shoes, I reminded myself. I don’t know what it feels like to suspect that every attractive woman I see might have recently enjoyed my husband’s charms. And I liked it that way. That was part of what was so lovable about French. He was true blue. He was mine. There wouldn’t be anybody fluffing his covers but me. No need to stare, glare or share when it came to French.
    Brett interrupted my thoughts. “So what do you think of those two slackers, Torrey and French, sneaking off to Coral Gables like that and leaving us here all alone to fend for ourselves?”
    I shrugged my shoulders, as if to say, “Who knows? Who cares?” Maybe Fitz would say something revealing.
    “Well I, for one, miss them both terribly , even if you don’t.” he said, laughing at his own joke. With them gone, he was the alpha male at this event, free to pick and choose female company as he saw fit.
    Could a man like this kill his boss? He seemed too relaxed to care enough about prestige, power or personal issues to ever want to pull off a murder. My take on Fitz was that he was a very happy man. But Diane, now that was another matter altogether. She had been beautiful once, but now, like a good wine gone bad, she was sour, after a few too many years with Mr. Wonderful.

Chapter 16
     
     
    The dance broke up well before midnight, no thanks to me or my friends. We could have gone on. No one even offered to have an after-party party in a suite, something that used to happen with regularity, like teen acne on Friday evenings before a date.
    I left the party scratching my head. Who was the murderer?  She or he had to be among us. There was no other answer, was there?
    Lily and Jake said they would come by my house for a few minutes after the room cleared out. Right now, Jake was flirting with someone. With the house lights up, Lily was checking out all the gowns and shoes, as the last of the guests filed past her to their rooms.
    As I left the dance, I passed Rick Wells in the ballroom lobby talking with some partygoers. We made eye contact and gave each other an almost imperceptible shrug that said, “Nothing solid on the radar. Talk to you soon.”
    I walked toward the porte cochère and the path that led to my home, wondering where I had messed up. Why had I come up empty with no idea about who the murderer was? How much longer would French have to sit in jail? I felt agitated and depressed at the same time, my mind cluttered with opposing thoughts and my heart heavy. I felt a headache starting at the base of my skull.
    As I walked the path to my home, one of Rick’s men followed me in a golf cart. Just as I arrived at our garden gate, click! It unlocked. He must have buzzed me in via remote control. I