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trapped in a tiny diorama of a town.”
    “Come on, it’s not that bad, especially when we’re going to split the reward.”
    “It’s exactly that bad, and worse.”
    Susie’s patience with Dan was growing thin. There were many other detectives out there who would have made more interesting fake husbands. Ralph, for example, was bright enough to add character to his roles. Or Jonathan, boring but loaded with cash. He never passed up fine dining and plentiful cocktails, and always footed the tab. Even better, Gregory, or whatever his real name was. Now there was a bonus partner – great conversationalist, great looking and one hell of a kisser. She’d pushed for more romance every time she’d been on assignment with him. But he’d always held back. He was a smart agent who didn’t mix work with pleasure. That was a man she’d like to conquer in the future. Maybe she’d try to get hooked up with him again. She’d put in a request with the agencies he worked with.
    She certainly wasn’t about to go out on the road with Dan again, if she could help it. This time it had been convenient; she had an agenda of her own. But she was a free agent. She could do what she wanted. And spending time with Dan wasn’t in her plans.
    “I don’t have to work with you, you know,” she said. “There are plenty of detective agencies that offer me jobs. I’ve solved more cases than you’ll see in your lifetime.”
    “That’s because you’re so cute you can talk your way into anywhere just by batting your eyes.”
    “Shut up. Though you’re right, I have to admit.”
    “Of course I’m right.” Dan picked up another magazine and flipped a few pages.
    Susie pulled a pack of cigarettes from her suitcase and stuffed them into her jacket pocket, pulling the jacket back on. “I’m taking a walk. Who knows how far I’ll have to go before I can have a stupid cigarette in peace.”
    “Out of character, you mean,” Dan added. “You really hate these jobs where you have to act civilized, don’t you?”
    “Whatever.” The front door of the suite slammed as she left.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Sadie dropped her bags on the bed in her room and shook her arms. It was tiring, doing this much shopping. But how could she resist? Every town offered something different and Cranberry Cove always provided a blast of a buying spree. She wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to improve her wardrobe. Besides, the more clothing the better, she always figured. It let her change her looks anytime she liked. Not that she often changed them. She was proud of the way her personality could fit into a variety of jobs without disguises. So many detectives reveled in changing their physical appearance with each assignment. They were amateurs.
    Her own San Francisco boutique, Flair, reflected her true personality, not to mention it was the perfect front for her other business. She loved clothing and accessories, so she wasn’t playing a role on the days she worked the counter. Her sales girls were equally enthusiastic, which was a good thing. It kept them busy in front when she needed to focus on assignments in her securely dead-bolted office behind the store.
    She picked up the red sweater she’d purchased, admiring the ruffle around the neck. “Widow’s wealth,” she’d told that sweet little twenty-something. That was an understatement. The bank accounts, stock certificates and real estate holdings that Morris Kramer, her third husband, had left her when he kicked the bucket would last her for a good decade.
    Maybe she should consider taking some jobs in Paris or Rome. She could certainly afford to. Well, there was that pesky language problem. She shouldn’t have cut class for those courses when she was younger. But how was she to know she could use those languages to her advantage later on? Typical student, she’d never bought into that philosophy. Twenty-twenty hindsight, as they say. Now she knew better. Everything came in handy at some