Read Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series) for Free Online

the silent game, mister, I thought to myself, reaching for another cookie. I figured if I kept eating, I couldn’t talk.
    Finally he relented, heaving a deep sigh to show me how put-upon he felt. ‘Look, Ms Burnette, I need to know who was near the sound equipment today. Let’s start with you.’ He paused, drilling me with those baby blues and I completely forgot what I had been doing that afternoon. Fortunately, his partner walked in just then, giving me a moment to regroup. I was determined to not to appear imbecilic again.
    ‘Hey, Baird. Got a minute? I have something you might find interesting.’ Detective Fischer gave me a cursory glance, effectively dismissing my presence. I didn’t care; hopefully I would get the scoop on what had happened to poor Miguel.
    To my immense disappointment, Baird and Fischer walked off a ways, Fischer murmuring his information in a low voice. In spite of my acclaimed hearing prowess, I couldn’t make out a single word. I contented myself with another cookie and surreptitious glances at Detective Baird’s backside. Definitely worth the wait, I reflected.
    In spite of his ability to hold my attention in thrall, I was able to come up with a timeline of my day. I had a feeling that I would not be able to wriggle out of this little conversation despite the cookies.
    Heels clicking on the marble floor made me look around. Emmy stood at the entrance and I could see instantly that something was wrong. She looked upset to the point of weeping, and I sprang to my feet, wanting to go and comfort her. Detective Fischer had other ideas, though, and stepped neatly into my path as I tried to scoot past.
    ‘We still need to talk with you, Ms Burnette, so it’s probably not a good idea.’ What did the man think I would do? Grab Emmy’s hand and run off into the darkness? Come up with matching stories so we could alibi each other? I really thought he was smarter than that. I gave him the most disparaging look I could muster and turned back to my chair, walking with shoulders soldier-straight and chin thrust out to indicate my contempt. This was becoming unbearable.
    I was eventually allowed to go to my suite – I say ‘allowed’ because, at one point, Detective Baird left in a hurry and the irritating Detective Fischer remained behind as a babysitter for me and for Emmy, who had taken a seat on the other end of the lobby. Even from where I was, I could see the dejection in the slump of her shoulders and I wondered what had happened (besides all the pandemonium we’d had already) to make her feel that badly.
    The message light on my room’s phone was blinking madly, bathing my room with an eerie blood-colored effect. I shook my head. I really needed to lighten up. Today had been bad – awful, really – but surely we’d reached our quota of murder and mayhem, enough to last a year or two.
    ‘AJ! Call me! I need to talk to you pronto!’ That was Ellie, sounding urgent. I smiled. Ellie got riled up over what to eat for dinner. I hit ‘Delete’ and moved to the next message.
    ‘AJ! I mean it! Call me!’ Ellie again. Hmm. I deleted that one as well, but was beginning to get that prickly feeling on the back of my neck. Ellie usually settled down after the first call; two in a row seemed a bit much, even for her.
    When the third message began to play, the prickle morphed into a chill. It was Ellie again.
    ‘AJ! Please! I have a really awful feeling! Please call!’ Whatever she was worked up about, it was making its way through the phone lines and right up my spine.
    I managed to find my cellphone, only to discover I’d forgotten to charge it overnight. I threw it down on the couch beside me, irritated I’d let the battery die. A burst of inspiration hit me – Skype! Actually, I told myself, that would be better than just a phone call anyway; I’d be able to see Ellie’s expression and figure out if she was having one of her anxiety attacks or was really on to something.
    My laptop