Free Killer Sudoku by Kaye Morgan

dashboard, glad for her seat belt. The sports car seemed to buck back and forth as if it were trying to free itself of its passengers.
    Liza had only encountered something like this once before. During a very cold snap back home in Oregon, she’d driven onto a patch of black ice coming home one night. Once experienced, the terrible feeling that your wheels weren’t quite in contact with the road anymore stuck with you.
    Somehow, though, encountering a patch of ice in Southern California in springtime seemed a bit unlikely.
    At least the Porsche had chosen an empty stretch of road for its misbehavior. That was lucky, because they hurtled several times across the median line into the lane for oncoming traffic before Kevin got them straightened out and slowed down.
    They slumped back in their seats as the car finally lurched to a stop. “Y’know, Kevin, if this was supposed to get me relaxed, I think you overdid it,” Liza joked feebly as she unclamped her fingers.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kevin replied. “I feel perfectly wrung out.”
    She laughed, then wrinkled her nose at a sharp odor wafting in with the chilly blast of the air-conditioning. “Is that gasoline?”
    But hitting a standing puddle of gas in the road seemed just about as unlikely as black ice.
    “I suppose we can wait until the cold sweat dries,” Kevin said, “but if we want to allow you any time before that makeup round, we’d better get going—slowly and carefully.”
    He started up the car, and they retraced their steps at a sedate twenty-five miles an hour.
    That didn’t make much difference on the less frequented roads out in the boonies. But as they got back into Newport Beach, even the side streets had traffic.
    Judging from the rising crescendo of car horns behind them, about half the motorists in California were expressing their frustration. When a guy in an old junker swerved around them with a derisive hoot, Kevin hung his head and kept grimly driving on.
    After what seemed like forever, at last they reached the Rancho Pacificano property. The Porsche wasn’t happy at being throttled back like this—they limped all the way down the long driveway.
    Kevin pulled up in front of the hotel, and Liza got out. “Thanks, Kevin. Your intentions were good.”
    “Yeah,” he said gloomily. “But the machinery wasn’t. And now I suppose it’s too late to go back to the dealership and have somebody look at this piece of—”
    He huffed out an angry breath. “Forgive me if I don’t see you before the competition. I think I might not be good luck.”
    Liza managed a laugh and headed inside. An improvised sign in the lobby gave a list of contestants and the event rooms where they were supposed to go. She looked long enough to find that she was scheduled for the Hebrides Room and then went up to her suite. When she entered, she saw that the door to Mrs. Halvorsen’s bedroom was closed.
    She must be taking a rest, Liza thought, tiptoeing to the bathroom. Taking a washcloth, she soaked it with cold water and held it to her face. Then Liza looked at her watch. She could lie down for half an hour and still have ample time to take a shower and gird her loins for the battle downstairs.
    Recovered if not exactly rested, Liza headed back into the tournament madness.
    The SINN makeup area was crammed into a side corridor leading to some maintenance and storage spaces. Liza got the same makeup artist, but this time there was no joking around. The young woman took a little more care with her brushes. “The cameras will be closer.”
    Liza nodded. This time, the camera crews wouldn’t be inconspicuously shooting from a gallery. They’d be in her face.
    She went through the double doors of the Hebrides Room to find the interior rearranged from a party space with a podium to a miniature version of the competition area in the ballroom. Long rows of tables arranged with staggered seating faced a single smaller table in the front of