Free Wound Up In Murder by Betty Hechtman

fabric. There was another source of reflection. Something metallic with a lot of detail. An earring? I stepped even closer and then shrank back in horror as I realized there was a woman sprawled on the ground. I shone the light on her face. It was Diana Rathman, the woman who had ruined Sammy’s show.

7

    I checked for Diana’s pulse and found none. There were bruises on her neck and red spots on her neck, face and around her eyes. By now I knew those were the signs of strangulation. But I was hardly a doctor and rushed to call the paramedics in the hopes I was wrong.
    I was operating on adrenaline now and without thought propelled myself to the Lodge to use their phone since now that Vista Del Mar was unplugged my cell phone was useless. The sleepy clerk snapped to attention when I said there was an emergency. I called it in and then left the clerk to notify Kevin St. John.
    I was waiting in the long driveway of Vista Del Mar when the rescue ambulance came down the street. There were no lights flashing or siren breaking the quiet of the night because there was no need for either at this hour. The streets of Cadbury were dead and there was no traffic to warn out of the way. And no need to stir up the sleeping guests.
    I showed the ambulance where to stop and then pointed my flashlight down the path toward the woman. Kevin St. John arrived just as a police cruiser pulled in. The headlights of the ambulance illuminated him as he got out of his tan Buick sedan. I did a double take when I realized that it was the first time I’d seen him in anything but a formal-looking dark suit. I had to choke back a nervous laugh when I saw the red and blue spatter print of his pants. I didn’t know what the technical name of the style was but they ballooned around his legs and seemed to have elastic at the ankles.
    His close-cropped hair looked tousled, and his expression got grimmer when he saw me.
    â€œMs. Feldstein, so you’re connected to yet another mishap,” he said in a terse tone. “Who is it this time? One of your early arrival retreat people?”
    â€œYou really shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” I said. It was hardly a time to feel a sense of triumph, and yet it was hard to keep that feeling totally out of my tone as I told him who I had found.
    The manager swallowed hard. “You’re telling me that Norman Rathman’s wife is over there?” He swung his arm in the general direction of the path without looking. When I nodded, he swallowed hard again.
    â€œThat’s right, Mr. St. John, it is not one of my people. It is one of your people. Norman Rathman is the head of the Favorite Year Club and the person who let you arrange their retreat?”
    I’m not saying Kevin St. John had no empathy for the woman in the bushes or her family, but I’m sure the look of upset on his face was also connected to his hope that Vista Del Mar would become the regular venue for their future retreats.
    The adrenaline from finding the woman was beginning to wear off and my legs felt rubbery. The fact that I’d beenup for way too many hours didn’t help, either. I knew the cops would want some kind of statement, and I looked around hoping I could be done with it and go home.
    â€œYou’re here,” I said, surprised, as Dane approached me. “I thought you were on desk duty.”
    â€œCan’t stay away from trouble, can you?” he said in a teasing voice.
    â€œOr maybe trouble can’t stay away from me,” I countered in a tired voice.
    â€œAs soon as I heard where the call came from and from who, I got somebody to take over for me.” He looked at me closely, examining my face as he offered his arm for support. “Are you all right?”
    â€œMore or less,” I said, letting out a sigh. The paramedics had the back of the ambulance open and were loading in a gurney. They were clearly not in a hurry, which confirmed that I’d been right