“You’re talking about Piper, aren’t you?”
“Could be. Or could be any of the others.” I mulled it over. “Or it could be someone outside the group. Someone lurking around. They could have followed us here. Seized an opportunity.”
Cheryl glanced around as if the evil person was lurking in the planters or behind the velvet curtains. “Like who?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It could be anybody. Likely someone from the Fairwinds, though. I mean, the killer has to be there. Who else would want to kill Natasha? And his, or her, sidekick is probably staying there, too.”
“But what if the sidekick is staying somewhere else? You know, to throw us off the scent?”
Cheryl made a good point. And my suspect list just got a whole lot longer and a whole lot more complicated.
As the tour came to an end, George led us down the back stairs—not exactly comfortable going in my condition—and through the service hallways to the front lobby. All the while, he regaled us with tales of guests who’d had run-ins with ghosts at the hotel, all of whom had escaped their ordeals unscathed.
As we entered the lobby, I stopped short at the sight of a figure near the front desk. Dread filled me. I knew that figure.
“Drat,” I hissed, eyeing the lobby for a place to hide.
“What is it?” Cheryl asked.
“Detective Hottie. Three o’clock.”
Cheryl glanced toward the check-in desk and frowned. “What’s Costa doing here?”
“Good question.” I debated whether or not to storm up to him and demand answers. Was he stalking me? Did he have a lead?
Of course, there could have been a murder at the hotel, and he’d been called to investigate. It was his job, after all. Though I was certain we’d have noticed if there was a dead body lying around. Besides mine, I mean. Dodged that proverbial bullet.
But then he turned toward me, and all hope of new homicides was gone. Detective Costa was here for me.
He strode across the marble floor, long legs eating up the distance in no time. Too bad he considered me a suspect, because I’d be all over that in a hot minute. Okay, probably not. But I’d flirt a lot. As it was, I needed to play it cool. No sense riling him up. I was in hot enough water already, though I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I’d done this time.
“Well, well, Ms. Roberts. You do like to be right in the middle of trouble, don’t you?” Detective Costa said, stopping in front of me. The entire tour group hovered around, ears perked. Great. An audience. Just what I needed.
“Detective Costa. Lovely to see you,” I said in my best fake posh accent. “Whatever do you mean?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t play the innocent, Ms. Roberts. This is serious business.”
“Er, what is?” I was genuinely confused.
“I hear someone tried to push you down the stairs today.”
“Oh, that.” I waved my hand airily, bravely holding back a flinch as another stab of pain tore through my arm. Yep. I was going to need a doctor. “It was no big thing. I’m fine.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “This time.”
I eyed him, unsure what he meant. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He stepped right up in my personal space. I had to struggle against the impulse to take a step back. I wasn’t about to let the man bully me.
“Ms. Roberts,” he bit out.
“Viola,” I said brightly.
“Viola,” he all but growled, “someone tried to kill you today. And, just in case you didn’t get the message through that thick skull of yours, that is serious business. You need to back off. Get your nose out of my investigation and back onto your little romance novels where they belong.”
That got my hackles up. Little romance novels? How dare he belittle my career and my passion? I worked hard, gosh darnit, and I wasn’t going to let some backwater detective dismiss who I was and what I, and my readers, loved.
I opened my mouth to blast him a good one, but Cheryl grabbed my arm and squeezed hard enough to make my eyes water. “Sure thing, Detective,” she cooed, all but batting her lashes at him. “We’ll get right on that.” She dragged me away, still sputtering, before I could punch Detective Costa in his smug face.
“What was that all about?” I snarled.
She grinned. “It’s called living to fight another day.”
A slow smile replaced my scowl. “I like the way you think.”
“YOU KNOW WHO WE NEED to talk to?” I said to Cheryl as we exited the van. The ride back to the Fairwinds had been uneventful. Everyone expressed the proper amount of shock and sympathy. No one seemed suspicious. Even Piper appeared genuinely concerned about my well-being.
Of course, she could be faking it, but was she that good of an actress? It was hard to say. She was certainly the only one there with a strong connection to a suspect. Other than Cheryl and me, of course, but that was just silliness. Piper Ross and Jason Winters were still together, which meant she could be in on it with Jason. If he was the killer.
“Let me guess. Jason Winters,” Cheryl said dryly.
“He’s probably got the best motive to murder Natasha.”
“If he inherits,” Cheryl reminded me. “Which may very well not be the case since they’re in the middle of a divorce.”
“True,” I admitted. “Though it isn’t finalized, and Natasha might not have changed her will. If she did, though, Jason would be the most likely person to know who does inherit.”
“You could have asked Costa,” Cheryl teased, eyes dancing.
I snorted. “I’d rather give myself a paper cut and pour lemon juice on it. That man is a menace.”
“To you and your shenanigans maybe. He’s just doing his job.”
“Yeah, well, he should hurry up because I’m sick of us being suspects.”
Cheryl shook her head. “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor? You wrenched your shoulder
