Free A Really Cute Corpse by Joan Hess Page A

murmured. “I hope she doesn’t topple over again. She might be trampled by a junior-high-school marching band or a Shriner. I’m not sure which would be worse.”
    â€œYou’re stalling again,” Luanne said from the bed.
    â€œI am not stalling; I am merely pausing to formulate my thoughts so that I won’t flounder around all afternoon.”
    â€œThen flounder over to theater and make sure the convertible is there. The girls are supposed to go home and take naps, so Steve and Cyndi ought to be the only ones there. The driver is scheduled to pick them up at two-thirty and take them to the stadium parking lot, where the parade will line up.”
    I raised my eyebrows. “I know all that. It’s on page fifty-five of your committee report, which is not especially well written.”
    â€œAnd yours is?”
    â€œIt will be.” I told her I’d come by after the parade
to check on her, then drove back to the theater and parked in the narrow alley in the rear. The heavy metal door was locked, so I went along the sidewalk to the front and found that door also locked. Mac presumably had gone away for lunch, which struck me as a reasonable and desirable idea. As I stood there, trying to decide if I could find a sandwich rich in carbohydrates without passing Sally’s cafe, a convertible screeched to a stop in front of me.
    The driver, a seedy sort with black hair and red-rimmed eyes, gave me a bleary salute. “Ready to roll, Senator? Where’s the queenie and her courtie?”
    â€œThe Senator, the queenie, and her courtie are still at lunch.”
    He took a bottle in a paper bag from under the seat and took a drink from it. “Good, ’cause I picked up the car early. I din’t want to be late.”
    â€œAnd you had time to stop by the liquor store on your way?”
    He whistled, impressed by my perspicacity. “Right on the button, Senator. After I had a couple beers, I thought hey, Arnie, it’s Thurberfest, a nice sunny day, why not make a little party of it? Wanna snort?”
    â€œNot right this moment, thank you.” As I tried to figure out what to do about the inebriated chauffeur, I saw Cyndi and Steve leave Sally’s cafe and walk toward the theater. Their heads were bent as they talked intently. At one point, Cyndi stopped and waved an envelope under his nose. He shook his head, then caught sight of me and waved.
    â€œWowsy,” Arnie muttered. “The Senator’s a good-looking dame. I’d probably vote for her for President. Hell, she can sleep in my white house any time she wants to.”

    â€œI’m sorry if we’re late,” Cyndi called as they crossed the street. “First, Senator Stevenson availed himself of the opportunity to preen in front of the television cameras, thus throwing us off schedule by a good fifteen minutes.”
    Steve frowned at his watch. “Gee, Cyndi, I didn’t think the interview lasted that long. It was just a photo op.”
    â€œOne of these days we really must teach you how to tell time, mustn’t we? Then the woman who introduced the judges was a little bit long-winded. It’s already two-thirty, so I don’t even have time to go inside and freshen up my makeup. I’ll simply have to wing it as is.” She stopped beside the convertible and stared at its occupant. When Arnie fluttered his fingers in greeting, she shrank back. “Ooh, he almost mussed me. What’s wrong with him?”
    Steve grasped the situation without missing a step. “That man is in no condition to drive, Claire. He’s likely to run over the pedestrians on the sidewalk and kill some child. We don’t want that kind of publicity.”
    Cyndi tapped on her watch in case I hadn’t worked up to a proper sweat ( which I had, several minutes earlier) . “We really, really have to line up for the parade, Mrs. Malloy. I’ve been in oodles of them, and