“That’s wonderful!” Lu gushed, clasping her hands over her ample bosom. “I’m so pleased.”
“Hopefully Piper doesn’t turn into another Natasha,” Maggie muttered over her glass of wine. She didn’t sound hopeful. I wondered if Piper would stick with Jason once she was a successful author. I kind of doubted it, but then people had a way of surprising you.
The night finally wound to a close, and we all bid each other goodnight, promising to stay in touch. As the others headed to bed, Lucas pulled me aside.
“I’d love to see you again,” he said softly, looking at me as if he wanted to kiss me on the lips again. This time on purpose.
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” I said. “We live so far away.”
“Portland isn’t that far from Astoria. It’s what? An hour-and-a-half drive or so? Two max.”
I blinked. “Wait. What? Portland? As in Oregon? I thought you lived in New Hampshire or something.”
“Maine. But I’ve decided it’s time for a change.” He flashed me one of those sexy grins. “How about it, Viola? Dinner when we get back?”
THE NEXT MORNING, CHERYL and I checked out of the Fairwinds Resort and headed to the front entrance, luggage in hand, to catch a taxi. Instead, an unmarked police car slid to the curb, and Costa got out. He was looking particularly delicious in a rumpled, sky-blue shirt, his maroon tie askew.
“Why, Detective,” I called cheerfully, giving him a little finger wave. “Come to see us off? I know you’re going to miss me, but really, you needn’t have.”
He glared at me as if I were personally responsible for all his woes. “Actually, I’m giving you a ride to the airport.”
“Really?” I bit back a laugh. “Why would you do that?”
“Because my captain ordered me to,” he said, his tone nearly a growl. “He said, ‘Get that Roberts person off my island before I have her thrown in jail.’ I wouldn’t have cared, except he also threatened my person.”
“Well,” I said with a grin as I strolled toward his car, “you can’t say my visit wasn’t interesting.”
Cheryl and I ignored Costa’s glare as we burst into peals of laughter. Hey, at least we’d save on cab fare.
The End
DID YOU ENJOY The Corpse in the Cabana? Join Viola on her next adventure in The Stiff in the Study, available now. Keep reading for a sample:
Chapter 1
The Stiff in the Study
I’D HAVE GIVEN ANYTHING for a really juicy murder.
A romance novelist’s life involved skirting one unmitigated disaster to another. Or maybe that was just me. The current disaster was a raging case of writer’s block, so bad that dead bodies were starting to sound good. Even relocating from my writing den at home to a table at my favorite wine bar wasn’t helping. Maybe I should give up historical romance and write crime thrillers?
I sighed and glanced around Sip. It was a cozy place with a wide front window overlooking the Columbia River, warm red walls, and wide plank floors. Racks of wines—all from Pacific Northwest wineries— lined nearly every wall and a great deal of floor space. The rest of the room was taken up by little round tables covered in cheerful red and gold cloth so patrons could sit and enjoy a glass. Or bottle.
Nina Driver, who not only owned Sip but was a good friend of mine, was busy behind the bar unpacking boxes of newly delivered cabernet. Her long, honey hair tumbled about her shoulders as she hummed softly to the old-school jazz playing over the stereo system.
At the end of the bar sat one of the more colorful denizens of Astoria, Oregon. A regular at Sip, Lloyd was somewhere between sixty and eighty, his craggy features and wild beetle brows making it impossible to tell which. His white hair stood straight up as if he hadn’t brushed it in days, maybe a week even. He leaned heavily on the bar, staring soulfully into a glass of red.
I scowled at my laptop screen, willing words to appear. No luck. I had a looming deadline, and the story was stuck.
“You lied to me, Scarlet,” he said, his manly chest heaving. (Did manly chests heave? I’d have to look into that.) “I can never forgive you.”
“But Rolf,” she cried, “I did it for your own good.” Tears poured down her beautiful face, turning her blue eyes a stormy gray.
Good grief, that was melodramatic. My readers would love it. But what did Scarlet lie about? That was the million-dollar question. And if I couldn’t answer it, I’d be the next dead body, thanks to my editor.
“I could kill him!” Portia Wren stormed into Sip and slammed her turquoise designer purse on top of the polished wood bar, hard enough to make a substantial thwack. She hiked herself onto one of the tall stools. Her snug blue and green dress slid up her thighs like it was trying to escape the laws of gravity. She didn’t seem to notice, but Lloyd sure did. His eyeballs nearly popped out of his head, despite him being three sheets to the wind already.
“Keep your eyeballs in your head, Lloyd.” The order was snapped out from behind a rack of Bordeaux where Nina was stocking up. I would swear the woman had eyes in the back of her head.
Portia and I shot Lloyd a scowl, though he couldn’t see me since I was sitting behind him. He dove back into his wine glass with gusto. It wasn’t that anyone could blame Lloyd, exactly. Portia had a way of attracting attention. The woman had curves that wouldn’t quit and dressed like a runway model, despite Astoria being a small, wet, coastal town and not Milan or Paris.
“You look like you could use
