Knot Guilty

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Book: Knot Guilty by Betty Hechtman Read Free Book Online
Authors: Betty Hechtman
confusion as I tried to straighten up my appearance and hand out the badges. Elise said she needed one for her husband. She was vague about what he was going to be doing, but she assured us his being in the booth was going to be a help.
    â€œI hope he doesn’t mind being Joshua Royal for the night,” I said, handing over my boss’s badge as a loan.
    â€œI’m sure Logan won’t mind,” she said in her birdlike voice. None of us had seen much of her husband lately, so I was surprised that he was going to be hanging out at the yarn show.
    â€œWhere’s Sheila?” Rhoda said in her matter-of-fact manner. She always got right to the point of things and wondered if our other Hooker was lost and having an attack of nerves somewhere in the hotel. Sheila had been handling her anxiety a lot better, but not finding her way could definitely set off an attack. I volunteered to go look for her.
    The corridor of the hotel seemed quiet after the clatter of voices in the room. I was relieved to see Sheila coming down the hall. It wasn’t her round face or chin-length dark brown hair that I recognized her by; it was her wrap. From a distance it reminded me of an Impressionist painting. When she saw me she picked up her pace.
    â€œAt last I found you,” she said in a frantic tone. I assured her that Elise had brought her kits and pointed her toward the room. I was going to follow her when Delvin Whittingham came down the hallway behind her.
    Apparently, the afternoon outfit had been his more casual attire and he’d changed into what I suppose he must have considered something more formal. The hint was the white dinner jacket, which was in direct contrast to the collarless knit shirt he wore underneath. I’d call it a T-shirt, but the fabric seemed too fancy for that lowly term. It was shiny black and seemed like an exotic blend of fibers. He’d changed his hat again to a white fedora with a black band and a rather large red feather stuck in it.
    He picked up his pace when he saw me. “I’m glad I ran into you,” he said. “I got a message that K.D. wants to speak with you about your coworker.”
    I saw him give me the once-over, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t think much of my khaki pants, white shirt and black sweater, even if I’d been stylish enough to let the tails of the shirt hang below the sweater and had added a red cowl with a dash of sparkle.
    â€œYou mean Adele?” I asked, as if there could be any question who the Great One meant. What was it now? Maybe she wanted to cancel Adele’s class or bar her from the show. I told him to lead the way.
    He pointed toward the end of the hall and an alcove in front of a double door. “That’s her suite. She has a before-show ritual of sipping a glass of champagne while she takes a bubble bath with her special blend of oils, but I’m sure she’s done by now.”
    When we got to the door, he knocked and we waited, but nothing happened. He tried calling her on his cell phone, but it went right to voice mail.
    â€œIf she’s still in the tub, she might not have heard either the phone or the knock,” I said. “Maybe we should come back.” I wasn’t that happy about the summons and certainly didn’t want to tick her off more by interrupting her ritual.
    Delvin shook his head in response and said she’d been specific about wanting to talk before the show opened. His knock had been on the soft side, so I suggested I try. He had used his knuckles, but I gave the door a pound with the side of my fist. Both of us were surprised when the door slipped open a crack.
    He pushed the door open wider and walked in with me following. “Hello,” he called out. “K.D., it’s Delvin.” There was just silence as an answer.
    We’d walked into the living room of the suite. There was nothing mini about it. The floor-to-ceiling windows had a panoramic view

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