Free Scotched by Kaitlyn Dunnett

talked this over at the hotel, it seemed logical to call in reinforcements. All of us have a vested interest in protecting the good name of our hometown.”
    She recounted her brief conversation with Jane Nedlinger, then gave them a few of the details she’d learned about The Nedlinger Report from talking to Nola.
    â€œThis blog is very popular, and the woman who writes it is renowned for her scathing remarks. She’d far rather trash a book in a review than praise it. As for her accounts of true crimes, she gravitates toward salacious details, and if there aren’t enough of those, she’s been known to drop hints about others—just shy of saying enough to provoke a lawsuit.”
    â€œBut surely only people interested in crimes and criminals read something like that,” Betsy said, making a little sound of disgust. “We wouldn’t want that sort of person coming to Moosetookalook anyway.”
    â€œYou’d be surprised the people who like to wallow in scandal,” Angie cut in. “I’ve got standing orders for stuff so lurid it would curl your hair.”
    â€œHow is being featured in this blog any worse than Moosetookalook showing up in a story in one of the supermarket tabloids?” Stu Burroughs asked. “Seems to me that it’s all free publicity. And you know what they say about any publicity being good publicity.”
    â€œI hate that old saw,” Liss muttered. “It’s just plain wrong. Studies show that people tend to pass on negative comments far more often than they repeat positive ones.” She was pretty sure she’d said the same thing the last time someone had played the “any publicity” card.
    â€œThat’s just human nature,” Aunt Margaret agreed. She sent a worried look Nola’s way, then glared at Stu.
    â€œIn any case,” Dan said, “it seemed best that we warn all of you about this woman and her blog. It’s likely that we’re soon going to have a serious public relations problem on our hands.” He recapped what Jane Nedlinger had said to him, reinforcing what Liss had already told the group.
    â€œAnd yet,” Angie said, “Liss told me earlier today that this conference came to The Spruces because there had been a murder at the hotel.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Liss admitted. She turned to her guest. “This is Nola Ventress. She’s the organizer of the conference currently being held at The Spruces. Jane Nedlinger’s presence here is a threat to her, too.”
    Nola nervously cleared her throat. She was still avoiding eye contact, not just with Stu but with everyone. Her voice was barely audible, a far cry from the self-confident woman Liss had seen earlier on the podium. Two or three people had to lean forward in order to catch what Nola said. One of the jewelry store owners surreptitiously turned up the volume on her hearing aid.
    â€œJane Nedlinger can put such a negative spin on what she writes that no one will ever want to come here again,” Nola said. “She’s petty and vindictive and she positively enjoys ruining people’s careers.” She twisted her fingers in the bottom of her T-shirt, then looked up at last. “I’ve been sitting here thinking about it. I don’t think she ever has a good word to say about anything.”
    She was such a study in misery that Liss could only assume she was blaming herself for bringing both the conference and Moosetookalook to Jane Nedlinger’s attention.
    â€œThen why do people read her blog?” Joe Ruskin sounded confused.
    He was an older version of his son, with a distinguished hint of gray at the temples. Liss hated to see him looking so worried. He’d had to weather far too many ups and downs since the hotel opened. She realized, with a painful lurch of her heart, that he seemed to have aged ten years in the last ten months.
    Bitterness made Nola’s voice stronger.