Snagged by Carol Higgins Clark Read Free Book Online

since the last convention. They all wore badges indicating they were in town for the gathering of morticians. He smiled at them and pretended to be absorbed in his own thoughts as he listened to them yak about their plans for the weekend. I wish I could have served you up some business, fellas, he thought grimly, but I blew it. For now.
    Downstairs in the lobby he ordered a beer at the bar and made it a point to flirt with the tawny blonde a few stools away who had placed her towel near his on the beach that morning. He chatted with the bartender, who told him he’d been at the Watergreen for thirty years and proceeded to ramble on about how many hurricanes he had sat out in this very lobby.
    “In my time here,” the short dark-haired man with a slight Spanish accent said cheerfully as he wiped off the bar, “I have seen some unbelievable things go on. My wife says I should write a book, but I don’t want to lose my job.”
    “I bet,” he said.
    “Yeah, like this weekend, we’ve got two conventions. Funeral people and panty-hose people. Now if they’re going to have a few fitting sessions with the girls in their panty hose, I say great. Which room? Can I deliver the drinks? But I can do without seeing people check out how good coffins fit. I guess we all have to go sometime . . .”
    “Right, buddy.” He laid his money on the bar and got up to leave. I’ve been here long enough to establish my presence, he thought. He headed around the corner, into the area where the pay phones were lined up. Sliding into a booth, he shut the door and braced himself for the call he had to make.
    The phone rang three times before it was picked up.
    “It didn’t work,” Green said flatly. “He was walking with some girl. She pushed him out of the way.” He gripped the receiver and listened.
    “No, I don’t know who she was. But don’t worry. It’s not going to happen again. Next time I’ll get both of them.”

T HE TAXI PULLED up in front of the Durkin home. A beautiful stucco ranch house, it reminded Regan of the kind of homes you find in southern California.
    Richie insisted on paying for the cab, saying never in his life would he let a lady pay his way.
    “Forget your inventions; you should start a charm school for men,” Regan said as she got out of the car. “And I’ll give you a few names for your mailing list.”
    They rang the bell and stood waiting as they heard voices on the inside. Mr. Durkin, an auburn-haired man of medium height with the map of Ireland on his face, answered the door and extended his arms. “Regan, Richie, come in. We’ve been waiting for you,” he boomed in a voice never used at the Durkin Funeral Home.
    He hugged both of them. They were barely in the door when Richie began telling him about their adventure. “You’ll never believe what happened. We were almost killed. If it weren’t for Regan’s quick thinking . . .”
    Nora and Luke, followed by members of the Durkin clan, hurried from the living room into the foyer when they heard the commotion.
    “Hey, everybody,” Regan said brightly and went over to kiss her parents.
    “Regan, what happened to your pants?” Nora asked.
    Regan looked down at her knee, which was bloodier-looking than before.
    “She almost got killed trying to save my life,” Richie said with enthusiasm. “ You should be so proud of her.”
    “Oh, God, Luke, I thought this was going to be a vacation,” Nora moaned. “Regan, are you okay?”
    “Oh, Mom, it was no big deal. We were waiting to cross the street and a car came by going a little fast, that’s all. I pulled Richie out of the way and we both fell down.”
    “What’s going on?” Maura called out as she entered the room from the kitchen. “Oh, good, Regan and Richie are finally here.”
    “Regan just saved me from being killed,” Richie insisted on repeating, much to Regan’s chagrin.
    “What?” Maura exclaimed.
    “We were outside and a car came speeding by and Regan pushed me out of