Free Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery) by Gina Conroy Page B

“It’s no Cajun Roll, but it’ll do the trick.”
    “Cajun Roll? I could go for some Sushi,” Matt said, demonstrating how selective hearing works. “Let’s stop at Sakai’s. It’s on the way.”
    “Sorry, dude. Mrs. D. said no, though I could really go for something spicy.”
    Cherilyn smacked Danny in the shoulder. “Get out, you just devoured two orders of jalapeño cheese poppers. You must have a lead stomach.”
    I ripped open the wrapper and nibbled at the chocolate coating. Not exactly Hershey’s, but palatable. My teeth sunk into the dense filling disguising itself as nougat, but it couldn’t put one over on my taste buds. I tried to choke it down, but the lump of goo caught in my throat. Mental note: Chocolate-coated cardboard doesn’t go down easily without water. After managing to swallow and going back for three more bites, I wrapped it and stuffed it in my bag.
    “No good?” Cherilyn glanced at me through the sun visor mirror and finished applying her lip gloss. “I don’t blame you.” She angled toward me. “I can’t stomach those things. There’s not much I’ll eat in the cafeteria, that’s why we went out to lunch. But eating off campus is expensive, and I don’t have a car.”
    “So, no freshman fifteen for you?”
    “Nope, I’m barely maintaining, thanks to the late night pizza delivery man.”
    “Wish I had that problem, but my family loved to feed me. It’s the way Italians show they care. ‘Never say basta to pasta’ as my Nonna always said.”
    “Danny is lucky to be living with you. I’d almost sell my soul for some homemade Italian food.”
    “No need for extremes. We’re having lasagna tonight. It’s from Romano’s downtown. Next best thing to homemade.”
    “That’s a great idea, Mrs. D.,” Danny said.
    “I would love it, if you’re sure it isn’t any trouble?”
    “No trouble at all. There’s always room for one more.” Two, counting Fletcher.
    I checked my watch and gasped as we pulled into Winton Hall’s parking lot. 2:31. There was no time to get Matt settled in at my office. I’d have to entrust the job to Danny and give Candy the heads up. My well-beyond-full bladder swelled with discomfort as I stepped out of the vehicle. Maybe if I was lucky, I could squeeze in a potty break before my interview.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    3:00 p.m.
    KTXL Studio
    MY BLACK MESH BOOTS clack-fwoped , clack-fwoped , clack-fwoped on the shiny tile, adding to my mental chaos as I followed Jan Carson’s assistant toward KTXL’s green room. Turning off my phone, I tried to switch off my mind, but too many thoughts swirled in my head. Matt’s suspension. Jack’s phone call. My damaged BMW. My unprofessional interview attire. Thoughts of dinner.
    With Fletcher.
    Every thought except my interview. I needed to forget everything for an hour and concentrate on my career. My problems would be waiting when I finished. They always were.
    As I walked into the enormous green room and inhaled the new leather smell of the couches, my head cleared. The scent of fresh paint lingered in the air. I let out a chuckle as I admired the stylish sage walls. The green room was actually green.
    Eye-pleasing Monet prints in brassy gold frames decorated the large room, giving a sense of calm to my nervous energy. What a contrast to our small green room with outdated university office furniture and blinding white walls. My limbs loosened as I lost myself in the impressionistic floral images, grateful their flowers didn’t give off any fragrance.
    I removed my mirror from my Coach bag, checked my face, and gasped. The red blotch on the side of my cheek taunted. I dabbed it with powder, taking the brilliance down a couple of notches, and then studied my mangled pinky nail. I’d have to find a way to keep it hidden.
    I fixed my bangs over my forehead, then spent the next few minutes pacing the beautiful polished floor, visualizing myself greeting my guests in this room, chatting with my co-host, our