Death on a Deadline by Lynxwiler Christine

Author:Lynxwiler, Christine [Lynxwiler, Christine & Reynolds, Jan & Gaskin, Sandy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

*****

A crowd was gathered around the health-club receptionist’s desk when I walked in. Amelia’s neon-orange spandex workout clothes made me raise my hand to shade my eyes.

“There she is,” she said, pointing an orange fingernail at me.

“What’s wrong?” I peered over her shoulder, but the crowd blocked my view.

The man beside her turned around. Brendan Stiles, holding up a wallet. “Looking for this?” he snarled at me. How had I ever thought he was handsome?

“What are you talking about? I gave that to John.”

John broke away from the group, the light off his badge glinted in my eyes worse than Amelia’s neon. He walked toward me.

“John, I’m so glad you’re here. I think you should question Byron. And Elliott. Or even Brendan. One of them killed Hank.”

“That’s your plan, huh? Take the heat off yourself by pointing a finger at them? Why’d you do it?” John dangled a pair of handcuffs in front of him, the clink-clink echoing in the high-ceiling room.

My heart thudded against my ribs. “I didn’t kill Hank.”

“Who said anything about Hank?” John asked, shaking his head sadly. “Zac killed him.”

I gasped. “He did not!”

Behind him, Marita, the Price Cutter cashier, wagged her finger at me. “Yes, he did, sweetie. Just like I said.”

“Fore!” Elliott called and pretended to line up the perfect shot down the tile hallway. He swung away with his golf club at an imaginary ball. “And she had the nerve to accuse me,” he said to a man next to him. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I was afraid it was Alex.

“I didn’t accuse you!”

“You accused almost everybody, trying to hide the truth, I guess.” Marge, with sorrow-filled eyes, stepped toward me. “Jenna, honey, I didn’t believe it. You were always such a sweet little girl. But now I know it’s true.”

“It’s not true!” I screamed.

I opened my mouth to say more, but Marge was no longer Marge, but Marge’s friend, Lois, the librarian. “Shh. . .this is a library,” She held her finger to her lips.

“It is not! This is the health club.”

Debbie, the waitress from the diner, appeared beside her, looking bored. She peered in her handheld mirror to apply a fresh coat of red lipstick, then smacked her lips. “Homicide must run in the family. To think I trusted you.”

“Homicide? Is someone else dead?” I ran toward the crowd. What. . .or who were they gathered around? John grabbed my arm.

I jerked away from him and crashed between Marita and Debbie, determined to see what they were hiding.

My pulse pounded in my throat, and I let out a low moan. My boss, Bob, in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts, lay unmoving on the tile floor. My favorite swim goggles framed his unblinking eyes and strands of thin black videotape wrapped tightly around his neck.

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