Free A Catered Halloween by Isis Crawford Page A

walked to the front door.
    Brandon zipped up his jacket before replying. “He said she was a mess. He thought she was drinking again.”
    “No surprise there,” replied Bernie.
    “I guess not. He told her she had to have a doctor’s note if she called in sick one more night,” said Brandon.
    “Another DWI and she’s going to be going to jail for a long time,” said Bernie.
    “She’s going to be going to jail for an even longer time if she killed Amethyst,” replied Brandon.
    “True,” Bernie agreed. “And she could have. After all, she knows how lasers work.”
    “If that’s what was used.”
    “I’m guessing fiber-optic laser wire,” Bernie informed him.
    Brandon stared at her. “Where do you get this stuff from?”
    “Well, I was reading an article on a new piece of work Jacobs is doing.”
    “Jacobs?”
    “The sculptor, uncultured one.”
    “I’m cultured. I like yogurt.”
    Bernie faked a groan. “Anyway, it got me thinking that that would fit the bill. It’s light. It’s quiet. It’s easy to manipulate.”
    “Why not a samurai sword or a machete?”
    “Not enough blood.”
    “Maybe she was killed somewhere else and moved.”
    “Maybe,” Bernie agreed. “But I don’t think so.”
    “Your feminine intuition tells you this?”
    Bernie chucked Brandon under the chin. “Exactly. I could be wrong. Who knows,” she mused. “Maybe the person who killed her used a piece of flexible, glass-coated glazier’s wire.”
    Brandon shook his head. “Sometimes you scare me.”
    “Then don’t piss me off.” And Bernie pulled her turtleneck up till it covered her chin. She definitely should have brought a scarf. “Did Ian say how many nights a week they cleaned here?” she asked, changing the subject.
    “Five.”
    “That’s a lot for an office, isn’t it?”
    “Evidently, Kane’s a clean freak.”
    “So they were here last night?”
    Brandon nodded. “But they don’t clean the Haunted House area.”
    “How come?”
    “Kane doesn’t want them to. He said there was too much delicate equipment in there. Touch the wrong thing and kablamo. There goes one of the exhibits.”
    “Who does the cleaning then?” asked Bernie.
    Brandon shrugged. “I assume the volunteers do, but you’ll have to ask Kane.”
    “And Inez was here cleaning the Foundation part?”
    “That’s what Ian says.”
    By now Bernie and Brandon were at the door. Brandon put his hand on the handle. “So, what are you going to say to Inez?” he asked.
    “I’m going to ask her if she killed Amethyst.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Yes, seriously. Just like that.”
    Brandon threw back his head and laughed. “And you expect her to say, ‘Yes, I did’?”
    “No. I just want to see how she reacts.”
    Brandon pulled the door open. “A waste of time if you ask me.”
    “Do you have any other suggestions?”
    “Yeah. Let’s go back to my place and talk about this first.”
    “After,” Bernie said and walked inside.
    Brandon sighed and followed.
     
    The Foundation was not what Bernie had expected. She’d psyched herself up for a scary mansion, and she’d gotten a generic office instead. For a reason she couldn’t explain, she felt oddly disappointed.
    The lights were on in the hallway, and Bernie could see that Kane had done some serious remodeling. Nowthe walls were white, instead of wallpapered in paisley, and wainscoted, and the floor was a sea of gray carpeting.
    There were metal-framed pictures on the walls, mostly featuring trees and flowers and grass. About twenty feet in was a reception desk, and just after that was a modern black leather sofa and a coffee table with fanned-out magazines. In the background, Bernie could hear Aretha Franklin competing with the hum of a vacuum cleaner.
    “Boy, this has sure changed,” Brandon observed. “I remember all this weird wallpaper and dark wood and crystal lamps hanging from the ceiling.”
    “So it would appear,” Bernie said as she cautiously opened the