Free 01 - Playing with Poison by Cindy Blackburn

meeting at the other end of town and off they ran.
    I took a few deep breaths, listened for the front door to close behind them, and unlocked my own door. Snowflake scolded me the second I entered, and I admitted that I never should have argued with Jimmy Beak.
    “It won’t happen again,” I promised.
    And if it did, I wouldn’t hesitate to toss him down the stairs, with or without the stupid cameraman.
    ***
    I had made it back to my desk, and gotten Alexis and Rolfe sufficiently disrobed for things to get interesting when the phone rang. Talk about frustration.
    “Jessica!” Louise Urko shouted when I answered. “What in the world is going on down there?”
    “Going on?” I asked. Surely my literary agent, fondly referred to as Geez Louise throughout the publishing world, hadn’t heard about the Stanley Sweetzer fiasco all the way up in Manhattan?
    “Babe! I’m looking at your latest numbers. In the past twenty-four hours your local sales have skyrocketed. I mean, through the roof!”
    Louise was excited, even by Geez Louise standards.
    “So fill me in,” she insisted. “What kind of publicity have you found for yourself? Who’s been interviewing you? What about book signings? What’s your secret, Jessica? I mean, because whatever you’re doing, I want all my clients to take a lesson!”
    “How much coffee have you had today, Louise?”
    “I’ve never seen numbers like this from you. Ever! Not even after you got that two minute segment on public radio last year.” Louise came up for breath. “So?” she asked. “What’s up? Tell me, tell me, tell me!”
    “I’m under investigation for murder,” I told her.
    “Murder! But that’s fantastical! How on earth did you come up with such a brilliant idea?”
    I rolled my eyes at Snowflake. “My neighbor’s boyfriend died on my couch the other night,” I said. “He was murdered.”
    “By you?”
    “Oh for Lord’s sake, Louise! What do you think?”
    With my warped agent interjecting a few ‘fantasticals’ whenever the urge struck, I summarized the basics. I emphasized I did not kill Stanley Sweetzer, and even mentioned that Captain Rye was ninety percent convinced of my innocence. Louise ignored that trivial detail, and insisted on hearing more about my ill-gotten publicity.
    “The local news has been all over it,” I explained. “We have this reporter, Jimmy Beak. He’s having a field day implying I had some sort of sordid affair with Stanley, and then killed him in a fit of jealous rage.”
    “Oh, but wouldn’t that be fantastical? Just think of the publicity!”
    Patience, I reminded myself. “Jimmy’s claiming that my books somehow reflect my real life. He actually compared Stanley to Lance Votaw. Remember him?”
    “From Windswept Whispers ? But of course I remember Lance! What red-blooded woman under the age of ninety could forget Lance Votaw?”
    Geez Louise didn’t wait for an answer. “So what about Temptation at Twilight , Jessica? How’s that one coming along? Because the sooner we get it in the stores and on the shelves, the more we benefit from all your newfound fame!”
    “I hate to burst your bubble, Louise,” I said in an attempt to burst her bubble. “But all my newfound fame has done nothing to stimulate Rolfe Vanderhorn’s libido.”

Chapter 8
    “Where is everyone?” Bryce asked as he popped the Korbel cork.
    Good question. As far as I knew, Rolfe and Alexis were home in bed, but not necessarily asleep. Candy, on the other hand, still wasn’t home. Frankly, I hadn’t a clue where she was. At least I was sure about Karen. She was sanding that ugly bedroom suite and supposedly far too busy to spend another evening at The Stone Fountain.
    “Just me tonight,” I said and pointed to the bubbly. “But I’ll gladly share that with anyone willing to talk to me about Stanley.”
    Bryce stopped pouring and stared. “Say what?”
    “I am going to find out who killed him.” I offered my most determined look.