Free Norway to Hide by Maddy Hunter Page B

magician performing card tricks. “The police got out a map and pinpointed my movements from early afternoon until I left the cyber café and hit the ATM. According to their calculations, I was nowhere near the hotel when Portia was murdered, so I couldn’t have done it—which has taught me a crucial lesson.”
    “Use the buddy system when you’re in a foreign country?” asked George.
    She flashed a broad smile. “It pays to be a shopaholic.”
    I shifted my gaze to the computer perched on the corner desk. “Why did you stop at a cyber café when your laptop is already set up?”
    “My screen kept freezing on me this afternoon, and I had to check Amazon for my book ranking. Obsessing about your Amazon number has become the most popular addiction to have among published authors. It sits right at the top of the list, just above chain smoking, binge drinking, and cross-dressing.”
    “Were you happy with your rank?” asked Tilly.
    Jackie raised her arms in a victorious V. “One million three hundred and ten. I’ve moved up six whole points since yesterday!”
    Gee, if the world didn’t end, she might be able to claw her way to number one in—I did some quick mental math—four hundred seventy-six years. Hot damn!
    “But would you believe I don’t have a single Amazon review yet? The book has been out for two weeks! What are people reading? Comic books?”
    “Diet books,” said Nana. “Readin’ about how to shed them extra pounds is way cheaper than liposuction.”
    Tilly boosted herself off the settee. “If Bernice is back, perhaps we should drop by to see how she’s faring. Police interrogation can be traumatic, even for crusty cynics who lack social graces.”
    “Now, now,” Jackie cautioned. “I think everyone might be wrong about Bernice. We had time for lots of girl talk on the way to and from the police station,and I saw a whole different side of her. She was chatty, agreeable, and surprisingly funny.”
    “Bernice?” said Nana.
    “Bernice Zwerg?” said George.
    Jackie buffed her nails on her tank top. “We actually bonded this evening. I think she’s become much more pleasant since her bunion surgery. Who could possibly be in a bad mood wearing open-toed wedges with ankle straps?”
    “Bernice Zwerg,” repeated George.
    “Come on, George,” Jackie scolded. “Have a little sympathy. She suffered a terrible indignity when those Floridians ratted her out to the police. Can you believe that Hamlets bunch? Malicious little back stabbers.
    “You’d have thought that throwing Bernice under the bus would have satisfied their bloodlust, but nooo, they had to throw me under there with her.” Jackie narrowed her eyes into the kind of squint that could result in serious crow’s-feet. “Which one of those miserable, two-faced hypocrites gave my name to the police? I tried to get it out of Bernice, but she refused to tattle because she said she didn’t want to ruin my opinion of the person.”
    Wow, Nana was right. Bernice really could think on her feet. “Uhh…to be honest, Jack, there were so many people talking over each other, I’m not sure who first mentioned your name. Is that how you remember it?” I asked Nana, giving her the eye.
    “I never heard nothin’, except for Dick Teig belchin’ a few times. George didn’t hear nothin’ either, did you, George?”
    He tugged on his earlobe. “Waxy buildup. Didn’t hear a thing.”
    Tilly regarded us as if we’d all lost our minds.
    Uh-oh . Tilly wasn’t going to play along.
    “Unfortunately, I was so distracted trying to elevate my feet that I failed to hear who threw Jackie to the wolves. Sorry.”
    Jackie sighed with disappointment. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just worried about publicity. Can you imagine what Hightower would do if they learned that one of their soon-to-be-famous authors was implicated in an international murder?”
    “They’d probably sign you up for guest appearances on Today, Dr. Phil, and Oprah, ” I