Free Decorated to Death by Peg Page B

catering service,” interjected Billy, handing Tammie the last of the items for the buffet. “In a town the size of Seville, news travels fast. But I guess the bad news of Dona Deville’s murder beat out my good news. Gossip has it that Chief Stevens is handling the investigation and not Lieutenant Cusak. Is that true?”
    Since I wasn’t at liberty to explain why this was so, I merely nodded my head. Tammie’s announcement that the guests were beginning to gather in the living room saved me from any further questions regarding the unusual situation.
    “Okay, Mom, I think you and Mrs. Hastings will be able to manage things here. Tammie and I need to get back to her place and put her kitchen back together,” said a grinning Billy.
    “That’s for sure,” teased Tammie, playfully shoving Billy out the back door. “And this time, mister, you wash and I wipe. Later, Mrs. B., and you, too, Mrs. H.”
    Once we’d said our good-byes to the young couple, Sally decided that the time had come to introduce me to the guests.
    “Hold it,” she cried, removing the chef apron and smoothing out the folds of her pale green, A-line linen dress, “I’ll be darned if I’m going to look like the hired help in my own home. Okay, now I’m ready. Come on, Jean, let’s knock ’em dead.”
    In view of the fact that I was on Chief Stevens’s short list of murder suspects, I felt Sally’s phrasing left something to be desired. With my own list of suspects still forming in my head, and with my heart in my mouth, I followed Sally down the short corridor that led from the kitchen, past the dining room, and into the formal living room.

Chapter
thirteen
    “Hastings you say. Would that be Jean Hastings as in Designer Jeans, the interior design firm? Dona was really looking forward to having the cottage redone. She had some truly fabulous changes in mind for the old place.”
    I was about to answer when a tall, willowy, brown-eyed redhead with a picture-perfect face and figure sauntered into the small but cozy beige-and-rose-colored living room. “Good lord, Goody, Dona’s been murdered and you want to discuss decorating ideas? Give it a rest.”
    “I suppose you’re right, Maxine. I guess the reality of Dona’s death, especially the murder part, hasn’t quite sunk in yet. To do something like that, the killer must have been filled with hate.” Goody sounded sadder than she appeared.
    “Or fear. Maybe even love,” said Maxine, looking around the room before zeroing in on Todd Masters, Dona’s personal trainer, and according to Goody, her latest love interest. “How about it, Todd, would you kill for love?”
    “Aren’t you asking the wrong person?” replied Todd, his handsome face dark with anger. “If I remember right, I was told a few nights ago that I was incapable of loving anyone. The point was emphasized by the glass of wine thrown at me. Luckily, the glass is as replaceable as the person who threw it.”
    Everyone in the room was staring at Maxine Roberts, whose beautiful face had turned as red as her hair.
    “Hey, knock it off,” barked Ruffy Halsted, shoving a sheaf of papers into the battered briefcase he’d placed on a nearby walnut chair-side table. “The only one who cared about what was goin’ on between you two and the sheets was Dona and she’s dead. Pick somethin’ else to talk about.”
    “You mean like which one of us was stupid enough to kill the goose that laid the golden eggs?” said Goody with a wicked smile. “I do hope our alibis for Saturday morning hold up under police scrutiny, don’t you?”
    The questions posed by the woman with the closely cropped brown hair and athletic physique hung in the air like so much chimney soot before being dispersed by the tinkling sound of a small, porcelain bell. The ringing of the bell was Sally Birdwell’s polite way of announcing that the Sunday breafast buffet was ready.
    Although it came as no surprise to me that Ruffy Halsted didn’t adhere to