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

gave a little half-wave of thanks without turning around.
    * * *
    The kettle was starting to boil and I had already changed into something casual when I heard a commotion outside. Racing around the corner from the kitchen to the entry, I saw six people silhouetted near the lamp posts of our entry gate. One of them was wearing a long gown.
    I opened the double doors onto the still-moist Central Florida night. “Hey, hey—what’s going on?” I asked, as I half-jogged toward the group.
    “Mrs. French, we caught these interlopers trying to force their way onto your property, ma’am.” a man in a hotel uniform answered.
    “Bill, is that you?” I asked. I recognized him as one of Rick’s men and I heard Jake’s and Lily’s excited voices.
    “We tried to explain that we’re your friends.” Jake’s voice rose above Lily’s.
    “They didn’t believe us, Maya. They drew their damned guns, the bloody cretins. Do they think we’re in the Wild West here?” Lily huffed, indignant.
    “Okay, okay. No harm done. It’s just a little misunderstanding!” I tried to calm everyone.
    “Guys, these two are my friends and I invited them over for a nightcap. I’m okay. They’re okay. You can put your guns away,” I told the four “groundskeepers.” The kerfuffle was over.
    “Thank you, thank you. Thank you for protecting me!” I said sincerely to the PD guys in disguise.
    PD guys in disguise, I thought as Jake and Lily followed me into the house and the undercover men disappeared into the bushes. That Rick! Imagine making these guys in groundskeeper uniforms hide near the water’s edge at night, when our little lake is Water Moccasin Heaven. What the heck is he thinking? And what are they thinking? Not about their own safety, that’s for sure. I hope I conveyed my gratitude properly to those men.
    Jake, Lily and I sat around the great room coffee table in overstuffed chairs and sipped our fresh brewed tea, spiked with a generous shot of Myers’s Rum. They were filling me in on what they had seen at the party. They talked over each other like kindergarteners at show and tell, vying for my attention. In the end, there was silence. We stared at the walls and furnishings.
    “So, it boils down to this—” I looked at both of them in turn, “neither one of you got the goods on anyone, right?”
    “Yeah, that’s right,” they both mumbled, looking down, disappointed.
    “Don’t look so glum, chums,” I said. “I didn’t figure anything out, either. Whoever the murderer is, she or he is one cool customer.”
    “There was one odd thing,” Lily said, sitting up straight. “I just remembered! That little Dapper Dan, oh what is his name? The one with the retired supermodel wife from Denmark...”
    “Vacaar Luzi?” I said, hopefully.
    “Yes, that’s the one! He danced with me and right toward the end of the dance, he leaned into me and held me a little closer. I thought he was going to get fresh but he said, ‘I have something I need to tell Maya. Ask her to meet me tomorrow in our suite after my round of golf and lunch, around three.’
    “I asked him if he wouldn’t rather talk to you now but he said no, this was not the time nor place. It could wait.”
    “No kidding? He must know something. After golf and lunch, huh? Golf and lunch always come first with these guys. The earth could be on a collision course with Asteroid Giganticus but nothing would interfere with their game and their yapping about it afterward over lunch.”
    We settled back into silence, sipping and thinking. The evening was a dud. We were no smarter now than we were five hours earlier. At least we were well-fed and well-danced. Maybe Luzi would crack the case wide open. Maybe he knew who the killer was. Maybe, maybe, maybe. After a while, Jake and Lily said good-night and left.
    I slipped into my nightgown and between my Egyptian cotton hotel sheets. I turned toward French’s side of the bed.
    “French, honey,” I said. “I’m so