Dead Days of Summer by Carolyn Hart

Author:Carolyn Hart
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Published: 2012-01-31T18:41:59+00:00

Emma chose a Pepsi. Henny and Ingrid opted for iced tea. Annie wished for a jolt of espresso, settled for a double-bagged cup of instant coffee, black as asphalt. She was the last to slip into a chair around the white wooden kitchen table in the Nightingale Courts cabin. One chair was empty. Laurel hadn’t responded to Annie’s messages. Annie felt a tug of worry, but she’d hope for the best. There wasn’t time to divert energy or effort to discovering her mother-in-law’s whereabouts. She’d ask Ingrid to find Laurel. Annie glanced at the cardboard box on the floor next to Ingrid. Good. Ingrid had done as Annie had requested, though she could have had no inkling of how Annie intended to use her purchase. For now, Annie had to focus on the concerted effort necessary to make her venture possible. She needed help in large ways and small, and the moment to ask was here.

She looked at each friend in turn. Emma had the commanding aura of a Marine brigadier despite her spiky hair, a newly dyed, striking azure today, and the casual drape of her blue-and-pink-striped caftan. The mystery writer’s costume might be casual, but her mind absorbed facts, nuances, and suppositions with the ease of a CEO. Henny was as alert as a bridge player with eight spades, dark eyes glowing behind the half-rim glasses perched on her nose. She gave Annie a thumbs-up with the effervescence of Diane Keaton at a cocktail party. Ingrid brushed back a wisp of graying hair, tried for a smile, was unsuccessful.

“Thank you for coming.” Annie willed tears away. She’d thought she had herself firmly under control. There had been too much emotion in too short a time, the icy horror of Max’s disappearance and the hours that crawled past, each one more frightening than the last. She’d thought he was dead, beloved Max lost to her forever. She pushed away the memory. That was time she didn’t want to think about, never wanted to relive. The blinding relief when he was found had been succeeded by anger over his arrest, an impotent fury at the unseen forces that had placed Max in jeopardy. Now was the moment for calm. She needed every ounce of concentration she could summon.

“Of course we came.” Emma’s matter-of-fact tone was as good a tonic as a sea breeze on a muggy day. “I’ve been looking at several options, but you said you had a plan.” There was only the slightest hint of surprise. After all, it was Emma who plotted. Annie merely sold books.

“I intend to get into the Whitman house.” Annie spoke confidently, then stopped. Was it fair to ask her friends, her best friends in all the world, to connive in committing crimes, including conspiracy, theft, and misrepresentation?

Henny clapped her hands together. “Way to go.”

Emma raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Do you have a friend on good terms with the family?” Her blue eyes narrowed as if scanning a mental Rolodex.

Annie’s head shake was definite.

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