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  Louise and I pretended we didn’t recognize him, and good old Derrick caught on to our act and played along. Either that, or the extra twenty Wilson had slipped him at the end of our morning’s interview, with a firm warning about discretion, had done the trick. Derrick poured the bubbly and served our lunches with minimal discussion.

  That is until Roberto recognized him. He apologized for any unpleasantness the waiter might have overheard when he’d delivered him lunch a few days earlier. “I am afraid my telephone conversations this weekend have been far too heated,” Roberto said.

  “The staff’s just happy this last day is going so smoothly,” Derrick replied. “We figure there’s only about a dozen of you pink people left.” He smiled at yours truly, accepted a tip, and rolled his cart from the room.

  Okay, so I couldn’t help myself. I asked Roberto about his heated phone conversations, and he was off and running, complaining about his numerous calls to the 3P staff in the Manhattan office.

  “However, I should not say office.” He tut-tutted. “No one whatsoever was at work. Businessmen should not be subjected to holiday weekends, when everyone completely forgets about their jobs.” He tut-tutted again. “Altogether exasperating!”

  Louise asked what he had needed from the staff, and Roberto mentioned the list of pen names Jo Keegan had requested. “It was like pulling teeth to get anyone in personnel to produce that on a Saturday afternoon.”

  “But I’m sure the list was very helpful,” I said.

  Roberto scowled some more. “The marketing department was even more disappointing than personnel,” he said. “I’ve been on and off the phone with those people all weekend trying to locate an employee who could give me some answers.”

  “Something to do with our meeting today?” Louise pointed at the stack of paperwork he had set aside while we ate. “I think it’s going fantastically well, don’t you?”

  “No!” Roberto answered testily. “I am referring to Adelé Nightingale’s latest release. She has had to endure the wrong poster this entire weekend! It is intolerable!”

  I stifled a groan. “You spoke to marketing about my An Everlasting Encounter poster?”

  “I most certainly did.”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes and insisted the poster was fine.

  “It most certainly was not! It is not your latest release, Adelé. A Romance Writers Hall of Fame inductee deserves far more consideration.”

  “Roberto,” I said gently. “Please tell me no one lost their job over this.”

  I am happy to report no one had. “Because no one at Perpetual Pleasures Press was to blame,” Roberto said.

  “Oh?” I asked. “Oh!” I giggled as it dawned on me. “It was Hatsy’s fault, wasn’t it?” I told Louise that An Everlasting Encounter is Hatsy Glee’s favorite Adelé Nightingale romance. “And since she’s in charge of the decorations—”

  “She deliberately ordered the wrong poster?” My agent was as indignant as my publisher. “How totally and completely unprofessional!”

  “Intolerable.” Roberto pounded his fist on the table, and his paperwork bounced. “Exasperating!”

  “You two!” I held up a hand and reminded them how hard the Glee Club works. “The Happily Ever After is lucky to have such devoted volunteers. Volunteers,” I repeated, and they finally let it go.

  “Now then.” I raised my glass. “Shall we have a toast?”

  Louise and Roberto raised their glasses.

  “To the Happily Ever After volunteers for all their hard work” I caught sight of Adam leading my mother through the lobby toward the shuttle bus. “And to the Goodnight Inn staff.” We clicked our glasses and sipped.

  “To the Happily Ever After conference! Long may she live!” Roberto got into the spirit, and we clicked and sipped again.

  “To the Romance Writers Hall of Fame!” Louise said. More clicks, more sips.

  “To Perpetual Pleasures Press,” Roberto said. Clicks and sips.

  “And especially to Penelope Shay,” I added quietly.

  Faces dropped, but the three of us raised our glasses to our deceased colleague. My glass had almost made it to my lips when I noticed a commotion in the lobby.

  I blinked twice. Then I carefully and methodically placed both hands around my glass, and carefully and methodically placed it back on the table.

  “Adelé?” Louise asked. “Jessica? What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

  I pointed to the lobby. “Roaring Tori,” I said. “Roaring Tori is happening.”

  Chapter 38

  “What!?” Louise screamed. “What, what, what!” She sprang up, raced out the door, and collided with Tori Fister, who was, of course, screaming also.

  I tore my eyes from all the jumping up and down, screaming, and roaring and glanced at my publisher.

  “Lunch has not agreed with you?” he asked.

  Oh, yes. I’m quite certain I had turned an appalling shade of green. But I assured Roberto my lunch was fine and listened to bits and pieces of the conversation in the lobby. Something about a lack of evidence.

  “With all due respect.” I spoke to Roberto and tilted my head toward the lobby. “You need to adjourn this meeting. I won’t make any business decisions without Louise, and she’s—”

  “The judge let you go?” The voice of Geez Louise wafted into Conference Room D. “You’re free?”

  “Free as a bird!” Roaring Tori’s voice wafted also.

  I took a deep breath. “And Louise seems to be busy right now.”

  Proof positive that there’s a first time for everything, Roberto said he’d seen enough Happily Ever After for one year. He collected this and that sheet of sales statistics and strategies, stood up, and checked his watch. “If I hurry I can catch the next shuttle.”

  We shook hands, and he again congratulated me on the Hall of Fame. “Well done, Adelé.” He bowed and was gone.

  I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. Then I downed whatever champagne was left in my glass and stepped forward to face the music.

  ***

  “Jessica! I mean Adelé!” Louise shouted as I emerged from the conference room. “Tori’s free! Free as a bird!”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said in a decidedly less voluminous voice. I indicated the doorway, where Patsy Glee was helping a few Happily Ever After stragglers onto one of the shuttles. “But must we shout it from the rooftops?”

  “Yes!” Roaring Tori roared. “What are you afraid of?”

  Oh, where to begin?

  But you know me. Never one to dwell on the negative, I thought of something positive and waved to Conference Room D. “Let’s duck in here, shall we?” I suggested. “There’s champagne.”

  “You shouldn’t have,” Tori said.

  Louise led the way, filled her glass, and handed it to her fellow agent. “Drink this,” she said, and Tori did so.

  “So?” I asked, all nonchalant-like. “You’re out on bail?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.” Tori helped herself to a refill. “But I’m out for good.” Gulp, gulp. “The judge took one look at your buddy Jo Keegan’s supposed case and threw it out.”

  “Jo Keegan is not my buddy.”

  Tori ignored me and took a few more gulps. “No means,” she said as she licked her lips.

  “Remember, Jessica?” Louise said. “All Wilson’s talk about motive, means, and opportunity?”

  “The judge told your buddy that no means, means no case,” Tori said.

  “Jo Keegan is not my bud—”

  “And what a surprise—no one found a vial of poison among my weekend toiletries.” Tori picked up the Korbel bottle, found it empty, and banged it back onto the table.

  “Can we sit down?” I asked. I plopped into the chair I’d vacated a few minutes earlier, and Louise noticed the empty seat at the head of the table. “Roberto’s gone,” I told her.

  She scowled. “Don’t tell me he cut our business meeting short?”

  “He did.” I shoved the
remnants of our lunch aside and pointed to a chair. Louise fell into it but kept staring at the spot Roberto had vacated. Tori, meanwhile, continued peering into that empty champagne bottle.

  When no miracle occurred, she, too, sat down. “I didn’t do it,” she announced.

  Dare I say, I wasn’t particularly thrilled with that little piece of news?

  Louise, however, was altogether enthusiastic. “We’ve spent the entire weekend trying to come up with an alternative to you!” she told Tori. “Jessica and Wilson gathered a whole team of experts to help out!”

  “Experts?” I said, but Louise concentrated on Tori.

  “Our sleuthing team uncovered all kinds of evidence to solve this murder!”

  Tori folded her arms and glared at yours truly. “So who did it, Sherlock?”

  I glared back. “Until ten minutes ago, I thought you did.”

  ***

  Louise broke the rather pregnant silence. “I’m so glad you didn’t do it, Tori!” she said, but lucky me, Tori’s concentration didn’t falter. She kept staring and glaring.

  “My lawyer says I can sue you for false arrest,” she said.

  “Me?” I pointed to my innocent self. “I didn’t arrest you. And neither did Wilson for that matter.”

  “Okay, fine!” She slammed the table and stood up. “All I really want is get out of this place.” She spun around to leave, but I scrambled to head her off.

  “Please!” I swept both arms toward the table. “Won’t you please give me a few minutes? I really need some answers.”

  “Why should I tell you anything?”

  “Because she’s my client.” That was Louise. “As was Penelope.”

  Roaring Tori actually slumped. And I actually felt brave enough to touch her. I took her by the elbow and turned her around, and we found our seats again.

  “I really don’t know anything,” she told us.

  “Oh, yes you do!” Louise said. “You know you lied to me.”

  Tori cringed.

  Louise held up a thumb. “Lie number one—you were in Penelope’s room for breakfast that morning. The day she died.”

  “I can expla—”

  “Lie number two.” Louise added her index finger. “Your partnership with Double D was in jeopardy. You were not, not, not pretending to be my rival! You actually were my rival!”

  “I can expla—”

  “You were trying to steal my clients! I thought we were friends.”

  “We are friends!” Tori said. “But I’ve been under all this big, huge, outrageous pressure, Louise. I was about to lose my job.”

  “We know about Mia’s ultimatum,” I said. “We know you were trying to even the score.”

  “Oh, come on! I’m not that cutthroat!”

  “Just cutthroat enough to steal my clients?” Louise asked.

  Tori sighed dramatically. “Okay, yes,” she admitted. “And I’m very sorry about that, but I didn’t kill anyone.” She reached out and tapped Louise’s hand. “I promise.”

  Louise actually hesitated before speaking. “You were in Penelope’s room Saturday morning. Explain that.”

  “I ordered room service, if you must know.”

  “We must,” I said. “So you admit you gave her breakfast.”

  “Yes, but she refused to eat it. She thought I was trying to bribe her into coming over to Double D.”

  “Which you were.” I sat forward and tried to channel my husband the cop. “Are you sure Penelope Shay did not eat that breakfast from room service?”

  “Not while I was there, she didn’t.”

  “So she just ate the candy?”

  Tori curled her lip. “Chocolate for breakfast. Ick.”

  “Why didn’t you mention this to Jo Keegan?” My Wilson-Rye impersonation was pretty good, if I do say so myself. “I know for a fact Chief Keegan asked you about that breakfast. Several times.”

  “Umm,” Tori tried.

  “Answer her!” Louise snapped.

  “Okay, okay! I was afraid of the truth, okay?” She looked back and forth between us. “Think about how incriminating things looked. I was in Penelope’s room the night before, and I escorted her into the gala, holding hands, no less.” She sat back. “Did I really need to mention I was in her room the morning she dropped dead?”

  “You needed to tell the truth,” Louise said.

  “But the truth scared me! I was hoping the cop would be too stupid to check.”

  “Our sleuthing team checked,” I said. “Did you, or did you not, tamper with anything Penelope ate or drank this weekend?”

  “No! Absolutely not!” Tori held up her hands. “No, wait,” she said. “On Friday night I did take the liberty to pop the cork on her champagne. And I opened that stupid box of candy.” She shook her head. “Big mistake. Penelope grabbed it away from me and shrieked, ‘They’re mine! They’re mine!’”

  I eased up a bit. “Penelope was having some trouble with her diet.”

  “An understatement,” Tori said. “Penelope Shay was like Godzilla Diet Woman. Lord help the person who came between her and those damn chocolates.”

  ***

  Louise broke another pregnant silence. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure,” she said quietly.

  “Forgive me?” Lo and behold, Tori spoke softly also.

  Louise sighed. “How can I stay mad at such a fantastical friend?”

  “I’m far from fantastical.” Tori shook her head. “Do people really think I’m capable of murder?”

  We shrugged in answer.

  “Wow. Maybe Mia’s right,” she said. “Maybe I do need a change of careers. I’m sick of roaring.”

  Louise and I exchanged a meaningful look and asked what she had in mind.

  “I have no idea. The romance business is all I know.”

  “You’ll think of something!” Louise clapped her hands and stood up. “Let’s talk about it in the taxi.”

  “What taxi?”

  “The one I’m calling to get us to the airport.” She pointed to the lobby. “Those shuttles are far too crowded for any serious conversation. What time is your flight?”

  Alas, Tori had no flight. Her lawyer had canceled her flight sometime after the arrest. “I was told I needed to stay in Georgia.”

  “Well then, let’s at least get you on standby.” Louise looked at me. “Are we done here?”

  Unfortunately, we were. I asked for a moment alone with my agent, and to her credit, Tori wished me safe travels and left.

  I waited until the door closed behind her. “Wilson is not going to be happy,” I told Louise.

  “Of course he is! He wants the truth, doesn’t he? He wants the real killer, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, but what about my safety?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “If it’s not Tori—”

  “The killer is still out there,” I said.

  Geez Louise sat down with a thud. “Don’t you worry, Jessica. I’ll stay with you until Wilson returns. How’s that?”

  “That’s ridiculous. I don’t need a bodyguard, or a babysitter.”

  “Well, at least don’t eat anything,” she said, and we both instinctively glanced at the remnants of our lunch.

  I waved toward the lobby and told her the killer had likely already left. “I’ve spent the entire morning watching everyone and their brother—or sister—vacate the premises. Everyone’s gone.”

  “Which means you shouldn’t be alone! What if the killer is still lurking around?”

  “What, like the boogey man?”

  Louise scolded me to be serious and ordered me to call Wilson. “He must abandon his Paramour for a Day stunt.”

  I reminded my agent the paramour thing was her brilliant idea. “And the annual raffle is important to the Happily Ever After’s reputation, no?”

  “Not nearly as important as your safety.” She tapped her watch. “Annette Trudo has enjoyed her man-prize long enough! I’m sure they’ve already had all kinds of fantastical fun togethe
r.”

  I bit my lip. Hopefully not all kinds.

  Chapter 39

  Call me a coward, but I had no interest in witnessing a showdown between Tori Fister and Wilson Rye. So Louise and I agreed she would get Tori into a cab ASAP, and I would call Wilson the moment they left.

  While she went up to her room to pack, I waited in the lobby. It seemed as safe a place as any. I stood in a very public spot, eating and drinking nothing whatsoever, and soon Louise Urko was checking out. Tori Fister appeared from wherever she’d been hiding, and Judy called them a taxi. Meanwhile, Patsy Glee helped what had to be the last of the pink people onto what had to be the last shuttle to the airport. It pulled away from the curb, and then Patsy and I saw Louise and Tori off also.

  I smiled and blew a few kisses but in truth felt completely forlorn as the shuttle bus exited the parking lot. Was the real murderer escaping right before my eyes? Or, even more likely, had the killer escaped hours earlier, on one of the morning shuttles?

  I must have sighed audibly, because Patsy told me she knew how I felt.

  “The end of Happily Ever After always makes me melancholy.” She stopped waving after Louise and Tori and turned to me. “But I suppose we should be glad this year’s conference is over and done with.”

  As we walked back inside I congratulated her on a job well done. “Thanks to the Glee Club, the weekend went as well as it could have,” I said. “And that lawyer you found for Tori did a good job. The judge dropped the case.”

  “Tori thanked me several times.” Patsy caught my eye. “I hope justice was served. Do you think justice was served, Adelé?”

  I read between the lines and replied honestly. “Yes and no,” I said. “Tori didn’t do it, but now we’ll never know who did.”

  Patsy patted my shoulder and reminded me she’s a local. “I can let you know if Chief Keegan comes up with any new developments, if you’d like.”

  I said I would like and glanced around the deserted lobby. Melancholy summed it up. “I assume the Glee Club is always the last to leave?” I asked.

  “We’re the first to arrive and the last to leave.” Patsy tried sounding chipper. “But once Hatsy and I finish clearing away all the decorations and Batsy gets back from the airport, we’ll be off.”