Resort to Murder by Carolyn Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

Ocean Golf Course.” There was awe in his voice. “Actually, I’d wanted to stay at the Southampton Princess. That’s a great course, too. But thank God, we didn’t. The very first night we got here I saw Connor. By the third night, I knew I wasn’t going to let her get away from me.” He spoke in a possessive-caveman tone, but it was more endearing than overbearing.
    â€œThat must have posed a logistics problem.” My tone was light.
    Lloyd never met a joke he recognized. “I flew to Atlanta every weekend. It’s a direct flight from Dallas.”
    I’d not given any thought to the aftermath of Lloydand Connor’s marriage. Lloyd was a partner in a small law firm in Dallas, his specialty corporate mergers. Connor and her daughters lived in Buckhead, a posh Atlanta suburb. I’d known she was a widow. Since my talk with Steve Jennings, I realized R. T. Bailey must have been very successful. I didn’t know what kind of company he had owned. It wasn’t, as a matter of fact, any of my business.
    â€œWill Connor and the children move to Dallas?” It was a casual question.
    For an instant, the brightness left Lloyd’s face and he looked more than middle-aged. He looked lost. He cleared his throat. “Connor’s lived in Atlanta all her life. Jasmine’s in school and Connor doesn’t want to upset her. And Marlow said they couldn’t ever move from their house.”
    Instead, Lloyd could close down his law practice and lose his golf foursome. What price love?
    Lloyd said loudly, a man reassuring himself, “I’ll have plenty to do. Connor says there’s lots to look after with her properties and the business. Steve’s been handling all of that, but I can give her advice. And I’ll be looking around. There will be opportunities.”
    Opportunities. That sounded to me like the old corporate line: “Mr. Who’s-it has left to pursue other opportunities.” Sure.
    I smiled reassuringly. “Everything will work out.” Yes, it was inane, but bromides paper over moments that would otherwise be too uncomfortable.
    Lloyd’s glance was grateful. Then he scowled.
    I looked at him in surprise but his eyes, sharp now, gazed past me. I turned and glimpsed the young waiter, George, carrying a heavy silver tray covered with a damask cloth.
    â€œI don’t want to cause trouble”—Lloyd’s voice was tight with anger—“but Jasmine told me something that George said to her. And if Connor hears about it…” Lloyd shook his head. “I’d talk to Mrs. Worrell, but it’s a damned awkward situation.”
    â€œMrs. Worrell appears rather tense. Do you know what’s troubling her?” This morning the manager had looked up the main steps and given Connor a look of utter loathing.
    Lloyd gazed carefully about. “You never know when Mrs. Worrell’s going to pop around a corner. Nice woman, but like having a death’s-head at a party. Damn awkward.”
    Death’s-head. I felt a moment’s chill. When Jasmine chattered about the skeleton at the feast, I’d been amused. There was nothing amusing about Lloyd’s observation.
    He leaned closer to me, dropped his voice. “Of course you wouldn’t know anything about it. There was a very unfortunate accident here last year. It was awful for Connor because the fellow’d been a bit too friendly. I was about ready to put him in his place, but I was glad later that I hadn’t said anything. Poor devil got drunk and fell out of the tower. Or jumped. Mrs. Worrell’s husband. A blowhard.”
    Jasmine had liked Mr. Worrell. Obviously, Lloyd had not.
    Lloyd looked suddenly forlorn and uncertain. “Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted we come here for the wedding. But this is where we met…” His voice trailed off.
    I understood. Lloyd was sentimental. That didn’t surprise me. Oddly, I was