Read Linda Lovely - Marley Clark 02 - No Wake Zone for Free Online Page B

he’d been poisoned,
I couldn’t buy that someone played champagne roulette to deliver the coup de
grace.
    Our footsteps echoed as we crossed the great room’s ocean of
marble tile. The caterers had long since departed. Harvey Krantz offered to
linger, but Darlene shooed the butler home, insisting we’d be fine.
    The stale, cold air made me shiver. Had Harvey lowered the
thermostat earlier, anticipating a coven of sweaty celebrants?
    “Can I fix you something to eat?” Darlene asked. “I’m not
hungry.”
    I touched her shoulder. “I can fend for myself, just keep me
company. I don’t like playing mother, but you should eat a little something.”
    The kitchen boasted more appliances than an entire home
economics lab—a doublewide refrigerator, a freezer, a Jenn-Air grill, two
cooktops, twin ovens, a rotisserie that looked big enough to roast a large
turkey, a warming drawer and a quartet of sinks anchored in acres of granite.
    “Holy smokes.” I chuckled. “Chef Rudy would shit his
britches if he saw this layout. Well, maybe not. He’d miss his battery of
deep-fat fryers.”
    While our old boss at Spirit Resort possessed a reasonable
culinary range, his Sunday-feed-the-masses specialty was deep-fried chicken.
    I rubbed my hands together. “Based on your kitchen toys,
raiding your larder should be fun. Is this the pantry?”
    Darlene nodded, and I opened a door to a walk-in treasure
trove. Amidst stocked delicacies like artichokes and truffles, I found an
abundance of mundane canned goods. “Ah ha, you rich folks do eat something
besides caviar.”
    My kidding coaxed a smile from Darlene. After retrieving a
can of Campbell’s Tomato Soup, I added milk, and nuked two cups in the
microwave. Then I scavenged cheese, sawing off a few hunks of sharp cheddar to
munch with some crackers. I set a mug of soup in front of Darlene and joined
her at the kitchen table. The steaming soup warmed my hands. My friend cradled
her mug against her cheek.
    She smiled. “Remember that Republican Women’s Club meeting,
when Rudy banished us to the freezer to carve an elephant out of ice? Thinking
about it still gives me goose pimples.”
    “I seem to recall you made one of the elephant’s appendages
larger than his trunk. It was downright cruel how Rudy whacked it off.”
    My friend tilted her head. “I still say Jumbo was
anatomically correct. You know those old ladies would have loved it. Maybe
behind closed doors, but they would’ve giggled. But listen to me, calling them
old ladies. We’re their age now.”
    Darlene sipped her soup. “When we were twenty, I sort of
figured old people—you know, fifty and up—didn’t do it anymore. I never
imagined we’d be fitting sex in between hot flashes.” Her index finger traced
the Iowa State logo on the red mug. “The first time I felt horny after Mike
died, it came tinged with shame. But grief doesn’t kill desire.”
    Amen to that. This spring, two years after Jeff’s death, I
received my own libido wake-up call. Nothing like a handsome forty-year-old
homicide detective to rekindle banked embers.
    “Think you’ll stay in Spirit Lake?”
    Darlene shook her head. “I don’t know. I sold my catering
business, and I can’t imagine moping around this place with nothing to do.”
    “There’s plenty of time to decide.”
    I didn’t add that moping would require a fat bankroll. If
she inherited this mansion, she’d better hope Jake left cash for taxes and
upkeep—no mean feat on a multi-million dollar spread.
    Chimes sounded, and Darlene jumped. “What the hell? Those
security bozos weren’t supposed to let anyone through the gates.”
    She walked to a kitchen intercom. “Who is it?”
    “Quentin Hamilton.”
    She hesitated. “What do you want?” Her hand trembled. “Can’t
it wait till morning?”
    “No. I need to speak to you now.” His booming reply vibrated
the intercom grid. He sounded peeved.
    “Just a minute.” She released the button. “Now I’m