Free Goodbye Arizona by Claude Dancourt Page B

woman spun on her heels without even a word to excuse herself. Eden let out an exasperated huff. Marcus had better outdo himself with his next book, after all she endured for it.
    ****
    The sheriff completed her circuit at the guest table. The dynamic duo that had welcomed the attendees for the past hour was gathering tags and rolls of free-drink tickets. The petite woman approached her deputy. “Anyone missing?”
    “Five in total.” He took out a pocket pad. “Sponsor Leonard Orseti and guest. Doctor Terry Fueller. Nominee R.J. Flint. I couldn’t get what the initials mean. And a Mrs. Corina Sanchez. That one touched base, apparently stuck at home with a sick daughter.”
    The lights flickered to invite people to take their seats. Pooley nodded. “From here on out, no one is getting in or out of this room without my direct authorization.”
    Her deputy grinned. “Does that include me?”
    “Smart-mouth. I’ll check on the sponsor and Flint. Get what you can about the good doctor, and proceed with the search.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    She expected—and got—a quick click of heels as he turned tail. The kid was cocky, but he was sharp, and carried on orders without the puppy exuberance of rookies. The lights flickered again. Instinct told her she would need a street-smart ally before the night was over.
    ****
    “Oh, I know who you are. I read your books.”
    Marcus covered his own jolt and Deb’s with a back step with a light kiss on her lips. “Don’t pout, honey. I promise we won’t talk shop the whole dinner.”
    Her frightened eyes lingered on his face, wide open. He squeezed her hip, not daring to do more to reassure her. His brain swirled fast. Wolski’s nominee bio claimed she manipulated half-lies and twisted truth better than Machiavelli. So either they’d walked straight into the villain’s web, or she was fishing. Well, he hadn’t spent the last two years evading questions and bluffing for nothing.
    “Now you’re going to tell me you hated them.” He let out an exaggerated sigh, and Marcus piloted Deb so he blocked her from the other woman. No need to tempt fate . “All right. Which one did you detest most?”
    “Huh, I—”
    The lights blinked. Marcus sent a silent prayer to the lords of bluffing. “Saved by the bell.” The microphone screeched from Rachel Hunter’s little cough. “I hope they’ll serve dinner soon. I’m starved.”

Chapter Ten
     
    The lights focused on the stage, dimming its surroundings in a shadowed haze. The set-up served the plan. No one watched anything else but the speaker, or the content of one’s plate. They pretended Flint was not here! Flint was right there, petting his idiot wife and pausing like a king holding court, with his minions around him. That despicable sheriff thought herself clever. Tsk-tsk. They hadn’t been able to put two and two together after the fireworks were rescheduled, had they? Or when citrus had accidently been added to the water served during the lecture. Poor Clare Holiday had never seen it coming. They all ignored what was right under their filthy noses. Who had that much power? Who made things happen?
    But soon, they would see. They would pay for their lies, the vexations and the disdain. They would all pay.
    Turner first. All this time, he’d been laughing at his fans, ROSA, and all the romance family. He had to pay.
    The empty chair next to the scribbler was a bother. But the filthy liar would have to stand before long. And then…
    ****
    “Mind if I join you?”
    Pooley sat without waiting for an answer. Deb welcomed the sheriff with a beam that widened some more when she caught the sullen look on Eden’s face. The agent edged slightly away toward Rachel Hunter’s assistant. The man clutched his plate with one hand while he spooned gazpacho at full speed with the other, no doubt hoping to get some food down before his boss called him on stage. Rachel held forth at the lectern, vomiting platitudes and complacency to an