Death on Demand by Carolyn Hart

Author:Carolyn Hart
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-01-31T18:43:12+00:00

Eleven

Annie felt the arm on her shoulder, shaking, shaking. She blinked and struggled to turn her face away from the piercing light.

"Come on, Annie. Open your eyes. I have to check your pupils. My God, I think you do have a concussion. This is like trying to wake a South American tree sloth."

"Go away," she mumbled, thrashing out blindly. "You've checked every bloody hour on the hour all night long. Go away."

"One eye open. Just one."

Finally, miserably, she opened one eye, glared, closed it, and sank back on her pillow.

Annie breathed in deeply of the hot, swirling air in her shower.

"Need any help?" Max caroled just outside the shower door.

"I'll call if I do," she sang back sweetly.

"Always ready to help out my fellow man."

When she'd dried off with the thick, fluffy blue towel Max had thoughtfully draped over the wicker clothes hamper, Annie slipped into a yellow-and-blue patterned skirt and a soft yellow cotton pullover. She brushed her hair very carefully to avoid the swelling behind her right ear, wiped the steamed mirror and peered at her head. Well, she looked normal. No visible bumps or bruises. She

probed the skin behind her ear and winced. It still smarted, but she couldn't help smiling as she listened to Max bustling cheerfully around the kitchen. When she came in, he waved her to a seat. .

"Chef Darling at work. Observe and enjoy, Madame."

Potatoes and onions sizzled invitingly in the skillet, and Max whipped the eggs to a froth.

"One exquisite frittata coming up."

They carried their plates to the wooden-planked table on the balcony outside the kitchen.

As Max poured the coflFee, he stooped to kiss the top of her head. "Just a preview of one of the myriad pleasures of connubial life."

"Oh, Max, why aren't you willing to invest this kind of effort and energy into a job?"

His coffee cup paused midway to his mouth. His eyes widened. "What an obscene thought."

"I'll have you know I'm serious."

"I know. That is both your great charm and your great failing, my sweet.

You are very serious." He sighed. "Annie, don't you believe in fairy godmothers?"

"Not really. I believe in hard work and devotion to duty."

He sighed lugubriously and tried again. "Annie, what if I—or your fairy godmother—slipped a freighter ticket to Singapore under that four-leaf

••'over? Couldn't you take it and run away with me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I wouldn't have earned it."

"Look. Think about it this way. You know the guy who won thirty million dollars in the New York raffle?"

"What about him?"

"Is it immoral for him to accept his winnings from a raffle?"

"Well, no, I guess not."

"Annie, look on me as a great, big, loving raffle ticket!"

She was fashioning a withering retort when the police car pulled up in front of the tree house. She slowly put down her coffee cup.

"Remember, we were here all night," Max said calmly.

Chief Saulter walked heavily up the steps. He looked tired, and Annie wondered if he had been up most of the night. She rose to meet him.

The police chief looked at her intently, then past her at Max.

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