Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

Suddenly what Cat was saying must have sunk in, be- 304 Victoria Laurie cause Mark seemed to take an interest. ``Newsletter? How many members did you say you had?''

``Oh, close to a couple thousand, I think,'' Cat said, pumping her head up and down in an honest Abe, Scouts honor, cross my heart and hope to die'' kinda way.

``You going to mention anything about this murder business?''

``Of course not,'' Cat said dramatically. ``We know Deir- dre didn't do it, and I'm sure she'll be exonerated before the day is through--''

``Good,'' Mark said cutting her off. ``How about men- tioning her retreat to Hawaii?''

Cat smiled demurely and caught my eye with a hidden wink. Now we had him. ``That's actually our cover story. We're devoting the whole front page to it, in fact. We're hoping that most of our members sign up for it.''

``Really?'' Mark asked, a trace of clarity returning to his squinty eyes. ``Well, then, count me in. What did you want to know?''

Cat smiled broadly, so happy that it had been this easy. ``Well,'' she began, looking at the notes she'd taken from our little psychic session downstairs, ``I'd like to know a little about your personal life, like . . . oh, I don't know . . . do you have any pets?''

``No. No pets. I'm allergic to most animals.''

``Not even as a kid?'' I tried. ``Like, did you ever have a favorite cat or something?''

``Nope. Had asthma instead.''

``I see . . .'' Cat said, checking off the calico-cat connec- tion. ``How about sports--what kinds of sports do you like?''

``Well,'' Mark said, thinking, ``I'm not really into sports, but I do like to play a round of golf every once in a while.''

``Ever play basketball?'' I tried again.

``No,'' Mark answered, looking at me quizzically, ``Re- member me? The kid who had asthma?'' he asked with a sarcastic sneer.

``Right,'' I said, pointing a finger gun at him and looking at Cat with a slight shrug of my shoulders.

``I see . . .'' Cat said again, ticking off another clue. ``How about gambling? You like to play poker at all?''

``Uh . . .'' Mark thought. ``No. I like money way too BLIND SIGHTED 305 much to risk losing it in some dumb game. Say, you guys aren't very good interviewers, you know?''

``Oh, don't mind them,'' Millicent jumped in. ``The ques- tions were my idea. Most of our club are elderly, and they love little tidbits like this.''

``Really?'' Mark asked, suddenly believing our legitimacy because it was now coming from a sweet little old lady. ``Well, okay, what else do you have?''

Millicent peeked over Cat's shoulder at the list of clues and tried one last time. ``How about apples, Mr. Hamilton? Do you like apples?''

``You mean like apple pie?''

``Yes,'' Millicent said gamely.

``Hate it,'' Mark said flatly. ``I'm a blueberry man.''

By this time I'd had enough of beating around the bush and impatiently asked, ``So where were you last night be- tween midnight and two fifteen A.M.?''

Cat and Millicent both took in sharp breaths, but I was going to get some straight answers if it killed me. Mark blinked a few times, rather shocked himself at the dramatic shift in questioning. ``I-I-I . . .'' he stammered.

``Yes?'' I said, tapping my foot impatiently and staring him down.

``I was at the bar!'' he said at last.

``All night?'' I pushed.

``Yeah! I left the bar right around two and came straight up here to my room. The police already asked me this anyway, and they checked it out with the bartender.''

I listened intently for my inboard lie detector to sound off, but it remained silent, so with a shrug I accepted that he was probably telling the truth.

Looking him over, I didn't think he had it in him anyway, and this only spurred my foul mood for having wasted so much time. ``All right,'' I said sullenly, ``then what's your theory on who killed Celeste Ballentine?'' It was worth a shot.

``Say, who are you anyway?'' Mark asked, finally getting uppity at my interrogation.

``I'm investigating Celeste's murder, and I'd like my question answered,'' I said in my best tough-as-nails voice, playing the bad cop for all I was worth.

Just then Millicent stepped in and explained, ``You see, 306 Victoria Laurie we're trying to clear Deirdre's name, Mr. Hamilton. We really want to go to Hawaii with her, and if she's in jail, well, then there goes my vacation. Won't you please help us?''

Good old Millicent got the job done. ``Well, I don't know for sure,'' Mark said, softening to her, ``But you might want to check out two of the Rainbow Sisters, Willow and Waverly.''

``The Rainbow Sisters?'' Cat asked.

``Yeah, there are these twins who recently joined Deir- dre's little entourage--Deirdre likes taking a couple of psy- chic wannabes to each seminar; she calls them her `Rainbow Sisters'--and these two joined the group a few weeks ago. At first Deirdre thought they were great; I mean, they stick to her like glue and practically worship the ground she walks on. But recently even Deirdre began to get creeped out.''

``Why?'' I asked.

``Well, for one thing, they insist on standing right next to her when she does her audience readings. Normally all of the Sisters rotate positions from seminar to seminar, but these two kept butting out all of the other women. The other Sisters are a little intimidated by them. The twins also follow Deirdre constantly. It's like they're obsessed with her or something. Anyway, I remember how pissed off they got when Celeste showed up at the seminar, and when I heard the news this morning . . . I just figured they might have had something to do with it. They think of Deirdre as a