Death by Marriage by Blair Bancroft Page A

storm was somewhere around a five, while hunting wild boar was more like an eleven. But Mom was right. This was a challenge Scott would enjoy, and he had plenty of friends to help him out. If they didn’t shoot each other in the process.
    “That’s good,” I muttered and trudged toward the house. I didn’t quite make it.
    Crystal came charging out of her apartment at the back of the house, her yellow A-line caftan with purple flowers catching the sun and nearly blinding me. “Gwyn Halliday, you come straight in here and tell me what’s going on. Didn’t anybody tell this family it’s Sunday?”
    Fortunately, before I fell into total collapse on Crystal’s couch, she handed me a cup of coffee and an ET bagel with cream cheese. Between mouthfuls I gave her a rundown on everything I’d done since I left DreamWear early yesterday afternoon. I suppose I was expecting praise for my initiative. Except for gasps of horror over Scott’s DUI, Crystal’s reaction left me with my mouth hanging open.
    “Are you nuts?” she demanded. “You’re out there making waves about a guy who had an obvious heart attack when our very own Miss Letty has doom closing in. I mean, her aura is so shadowed you wouldn’t believe. You want to play detective, Gwynie, find out what’s wrong with our favorite senior.”
    “But . . . but I think Martin may have been murdered,” I protested, stung by her rebuke.
    “Pooh! Hundreds of people saw him collapse before he went overboard. So maybe his wife was fooling around on the side. What do expect from a bimbo like that? Accept it, and move on. She’s gonna be rich, and Jeb Brannigan can take care of himself. Besides, what do you care what happens to him? I thought he was the enemy.”
    I lowered my last bite of bagel to my plate and stared at it. I closed my eyes, filtering Crystal’s scold through my weary head. Letitia Van Ryn was a good friend. If she really needed help, then Crystal and I had to come through for her. But every instinct insisted Martin Kellerman had not died a natural death. So somehow I was going to have to fit both problems into my schedule.
    Instinct . And where were my supposedly reliable instincts when I lived in New York? Dazzled by the glitter, overwhelmed by a handsome face, smooth talk, and great sex. So what made me think my instincts were any more reliable now?
    Maybe because this was Golden Beach. The only glitter was on my costumes. Guys took no for an answer, sex was a distant memory, and I’d only just met the first handsome face to light up my pheromones since I’d moved back home.
    Crystal’s caftan rippled as she crossed her arms over her ample chest and glared at me. “So?” she demanded. “What’re we going to do about Miss Letty?”
    I shook my head. “She really likes you. If you couldn’t get her to tell you what’s wrong, I don’t know what else we can do.”
    “Trouble is,” Crystal admitted, “when I saw all that grunge on her aura, I played it down, figuring you wouldn’t want me to push her. Maybe if we both talked to her . . . maybe if she saw we both really care . . .”
    My head felt like a hot air balloon after someone turned off the heat. I was deflating fast. I needed a few hours sleep before I was going to be fully functional. “I’ll call Letty,” I promised. “Hopefully, she won’t mind a holiday visit.”
    Crystal brightened. “Thanks, Gwynie. Maybe at home she’ll talk to us.”
    I dragged myself up off the couch. “The bagel was lunch. Don’t wake me for anything less than a tidal wave.” I waggled my fingers in Crystal’s direction and left.
     
    As it happened, the tidal wave came on Monday when all the costumes for weekend parties came back. Crystal and I stood shoulder to shoulder, checking every last accessory, returning deposits with our best professional smiles. We weren’t as busy as the day after Halloween when it was all employees on deck, but we certainly didn’t have time to think about