Nice Weekend for a Murder by Max Allan Collins Read Free Book Online

fun-filled weekend. Your corpse might be better behaved.”
    Jill and I had caught up with them now.
    “Kirk Rath doesn’t take dying lying down,” Curt was saying, then noticed us: “Oh, Mal—Jill.” Curt gestured to the brunette. She was wholesomely pretty; her face was rather full and her eyes were dark brown. Unlike some career women, she took it easy on the makeup. Maybe she was a Quaker.
    “This is Mary Wright,” he said. “She’s the social director here at Mohonk, my boss... for the weekend anyway. This is Jill Forrest, Mary. And this is—”
    “Mallory,” she said. She smiled at both of us, but extended her hand only to me. “No introduction necessary. You look just like your dust jacket photo.”
    Jill said, “I think he looks more like his driver’s license photo.”
    Mary Wright ignored that, continuing to hold my hand, saying to me, “I try to read something by all our guest authors. I enjoyed the book I read of yours very much.” She still held my hand; hers was warm, mine was sweaty.
    Jill seemed less than thrilled that Mary and I were hitting it off so handily, and said to Curt, “Is that little creep really gone?”
    “Rath? Yes, I’m afraid so. Thought I might head him off at the pass before he lammed out of here, but no luck. He must’ve intended doing this all along: he hadn’t even checked into his room. He walked directly outside from the Lake Lounge, climbed in his car and drove down the mountain.”
    Mary finally released my hand, and made a frustrated face. “I’m afraid Curt is right. Our bell captain saw him go.”
    “What now?” I asked. “Can you stage one of these things without a corpse?”
    “Sure,” Curt said, waving it off. “Piece of cake. Rath’s participation this weekend was minimal, anyway... just a gimmick, really.”
    I nodded slowly. “You mean, having the murder victim be the critic every mystery writer would most like to kill.”
    “Right. All that was required of Rath was to pose briefly as a bloody corpse tomorrow morning. That and give a lecture and question-and-answer session tomorrow afternoon, after yours. We’ll have to fill in there, of course, but we’ll come up with something. Rath’ll just have to die offstage.”
    “We can proceed easily without him,” Mary Wright admitted. But she was still troubled: “What bothers me is his obnoxious behavior back there... the cold water he’s thrown on my guests.”
    “They’ll get over it,” I said. “They’re here for a good time, and one pompous put-down from the likes of Rath won’t keep the wind out of their sails for very long.”
    “I hope so,” Mary said doubtfully. She smiled, prettily, extended a hand again. “Anyway, your concern is appreciated. And it was a pleasure meeting you, finally.”
    And she was squeezing my hand again. Giving me a look as warm as her grasp.
    “Pleasure’s mine. Try another one of my books sometime.”
    “I intend to,” she said, letting loose of me slowly, her fingers brushing my palm rather seductively. “Curt, let’s go to my office and figure out exactly how we’re going to restructure this thing....”
    And they were off, talking, gesturing as they went.
    “She’s nice,” I said.
    “ ‘It was a pleasure meeting you
finally
,’ ” Jill said with infinite sarcasm.
    “Huh?”
    “Come with me, Romeo.” She yanked me by the sweaty hand, and we walked down a hallway. It took a jog and we were suddenly at our room. She had the key and was working it in the door.
    “You’re not mad at me, are you?” I asked.
    “What for?” she said.
    “Just because I was polite to that girl.”
    “She’s not a girl. She’s thirty-five if she’s a day.”
    “So are you.”
    “You always know just the right thing to say.” She opened the door and smiled tightly and gestured for me to go in. I did.
    Jill began undressing, and I sat on one of the twin beds looking at her while she did. When she was down to her wisp ofa bra and her sheer