Free Goodbye Arizona by Claude Dancourt Page A

the asymmetrical hemline over the straight skirt. At least its ruffles gave the illusion of length, and they would not block her movements. The scoop neck assured she would not make a fool of herself if she needed to break into a run.
    This copper-skinned sheriff was not to be trusted. Sang-mêlé never were. One way or the other, she had no intention of being on the receiving end if/when things became blown out of proportion.
    Eden straightened her back before she strode out of the elevator.
    ****
    Josepha Pooley arranged the folds of her palazzo slacks so it would hide the holster at her ankle. The 9-mm Glock was lighter than her service semi-automatic, but the weight still made her walk like a limping badger. She shrugged the thought off. She was here to catch a murderer, not to parade on a runway.
    The room filled quickly. The gala dinner, the last event of the conference, would host about a hundred guests. Some looked absolutely ridiculous in too-tight dresses or ill-fitted suits. Others, well, others had class, with a capital C.
    Eden Guillot portrayed money and high-class education all the way from the impeccable hairdo to the curve of her disdainful smirk. The pretty blonde was feigning interest in Rachel Hunter’s never-ending chatter.
    Suddenly, Eden pinched her lips. Pooley turned her attention to the couple at the reception table at the entrance of the ballroom. Now, those two made a picture. Deb Stone glowed, in every sense of the word. Her dress shone in the dim light, and if the peacock-like beam of her escort was any indication, Marcus Turner was rather pleased with the sight. The brunette’s smile paled a little when she noticed the sheriff, but she nodded politely before Marcus swept her away to their table.
    Pooley narrowed her eyes on the vigil she’d put at the door. Her man shook his head. They were still missing some of the attendees. The sheriff bobbed her head once, then resumed her survey of the room. She’d planned to have everybody’s room searched once they were occupied. She would just wait for the circus to begin.
    ****
    “She’s here.” Deb tightened her grasp on Marcus’s elbow. The room seemed to have shrunk the moment she spotted the petite woman in the corner, surveying the colorful crowd like a hawk.
    “I know. I saw her.”
    “Do we go and say hello?”
    She hoped with all her heart he would refuse. If they stayed far from the sheriff, maybe that mad scheme would not come to fruition. The people around them chattered, exchanging compliments or gossip, unsuspecting.
    Marcus shook his head. “Actually, it’s Eden I have to talk to.”
    From Charybdis to Scylla.
    Rachel was frowning at the blonde as if she were ready to kill her. The glare on both women suggested acrid comments and sneaky insults Deb wasn’t in the mood for. “Do we really have to?”
    “Hello, I’m Elizabeth Wolski.”
    The lonely elf with a tumble of dark red copper curls offered a bashful grin.
    Deb felt Marcus’s biceps tauten under her hand, though he nodded politely. “Good evening. I’m Marcus Turner, and this is my wife, Deborah.”
    “Oh, I know who you are.”
    The chuckle chilled Deb to the bone.
    ****
    “What do you mean, ‘not here’? You assured me… This is unacceptable, totally unprofessional.”
    Eden did her best to contain the growl boiling in her throat. Once again, she had to mop up after Marcus while he paraded his idiotic wife around as if she were the eighth wonder of the world. And Rachel Hunter whined, and complained, and threw a tantrum in the middle of the packed ballroom. She wished she could swat the wench but, unfortunately, the ROSA president was among the most influential people in the industry, so Eden swallowed her gall.
    “I am as puzzled as you are, Rachel. Our agency knows how important this conference is, and how much people were excited about this evening. I assure you this delay is absolutely out of our control.”
    “Whatever. Oliver!”
    The insufferable