Rooms to Die For by Jean Harrington

Author:Jean Harrington
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Cozy, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2014-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

I glanced across the passenger seat. Rossi drove with his usual single-minded intensity, jaw thrust forward, both hands on the wheel.

“So the upshot is that Austin didn’t recognize anyone,” I said, sorry to disappoint him. “All he could remember was a nice shirt.”

“The chance was slim that he would be of help, but I hoped he might. In any event, we can’t be sure what he told you was accurate.”

“I knew you’d say that, but I’m sure he was being accurate. He looked at every image carefully and took his time answering.”

Unconvinced, Rossi shrugged. “Okay. Then chances are the mugging was a random incident. Nevertheless, I asked Oliver Kent to hire a security guard for the mall parking lot.”

“And?”

“He scoffed. Said he can’t afford it. Claims the market’s soft for high-end products, and the mall’s a white elephant. He’s been bleeding money for months. A few stores have already closed, and now the flower shop’s dead and it looks like Mrs. Vega will vacate soon. He’s a worried man.”

“So are you. Is it the case that’s bothering you,” I asked, “or something else? Let’s have it, or neither one of us will enjoy dinner.”

He took his attention from the road for an instant to focus on me. “Have I ever mentioned what a great detective you’d make?”

“Several times. So come on, what’s wrong?”

In front of us, an elderly man drove a Lexus ten miles under the limit. Savoring the evening, no doubt. Easy to understand why. A soft lavender sky floated over the Gulf, darkening into purple at the horizon. Here and there, as in old master paintings, late-day sun rays fired down shafts of peach glow.

Still awaiting Rossi’s reply, I lowered my window and with a sigh of pure pleasure breathed in the rush of fresh air. Delicious. I drank in the coolness like a parched plant. Born and raised in Boston, sometimes I longed for the Northeast, especially at the end of a hot subtropical summer. But the longing never lasted more than a few minutes. I adored living in Naples with its year-round flowers, Gulf breezes and casual lifestyle.

Like tonight. Here it was late September, and I was on my way out to dinner with a handsome man who wore a shirt blooming with blue plumerias and khaki shorts that showed off his tree-trunk legs. I wore shorts too, white ones, with a kelly green tank top. To hide my stitches, I’d folded a green scarf into a wide band and tied it to one side, pirate style. A few more days of healing and I should be able to lose the scarf, but for now I needed it.

Rossi passed the Lexus. Would wonders never cease? He rarely passed anyone. “You throwing caution to the winds?” I asked.

“I do that in the bedroom, not on the road,” he said, his eyes resolutely straight ahead.

Rossi never lied. At least I hadn’t caught him in one yet. Maybe because he didn’t always answer my questions. “You still haven’t told me what’s on your mind.

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