Dial Om for Murder by Diana Killian

“I’m disappointed in you, A.J. Your mother would take this case in a heartbeat.”
    He was teasing her—though not entirely. A.J. said, “Now might be the right time to break it to you that I’m not my mother. My mother—lucky for both of us—is cruising down the Nile even as we speak. And hopefully not triggering any international incidents. And , if I remember correctly, Nick wasn’t thrilled about you being even peripherally involved in a murder investigation.”
    Andy’s face tightened. An unpleasant thought sprouted in A.J.’s mind. Nick Grant was a big man and not particularly given to conversation. Was it possible he might have expressed his disapproval by hitting Andy? Knocking him down? She didn’t know a lot about the gay lifestyle, but she had seen enough bad television to give her a sordid impression.
    She couldn’t help asking, “Is everything okay between you and Nick Grant?”
    “Of course,” Andy said quickly. Too quickly?
    She wasn’t sure she wanted to pry any further, and was saved from having to decide by the arrival of their meals.
     
     
    Jake had not responded to A.J.’s message by the time she and Andy finished lunch and started back to Sacred Balance. She tried not to take it personally. Jake was in the middle of a homicide investigation; safe to say he was a little busy. Besides, for all she knew he was acting immediately on the information she’d given him.
    “What’s going on here?” Andy murmured as they pulled into the studio parking lot.
    The hours between one and three were the least busy at Sacred Balance, but today the parking lot was packed. In addition to all the cars, there was a large truck half blocking the driveway entrance.
    “What the . . . ?” A.J.’s voice trailed away, trying to see past the truck.
    Suze stood at the entrance of the studio apparently trying to deny access to what appeared to be a film crew.
    “Local news coverage?” Andy asked her.
    A.J. took in the equipment and cameras scattered along the walkway curving up toward the studio. She shook her head. “ There would be a van with the news station logo, wouldn’t there? This is like a . . . a movie set.”
    Spotting a familiar tall, dark-haired woman arguing—loudly—with Suze, she reached for the door. “Let me out.”
    “Are you sure? If they’re waiting for you—”
    “ They’re not waiting for me. That’s Barbie Siragusa arguing with Suze.”
    “Barbie Siragusa, as in Barbie’s Dream Life ? As in the mob boss’s missus? That Barbie Sirgusa?”
    “ That’s the one,” A.J. said. “She wanted to film a segment of her reality TV show at Sacred Balance, and I told her no. Apparently she’s not a very good listener.”
    “You told the wife of a famous mob boss no ?” Andy said faintly.
    A.J. tore her gaze away from the melee at the front of Sacred Balance. All those people and all that equipment in order to create . . . reality?
    “I told her no,” she said. “And I meant it. It’s the last thing Aunt Di would have wanted for the studio, so please don’t tell me that it’s a wasted opportunity for good PR. I don’t think it would be good for the studio or the health and welfare of our clients.”
    “Uh, I wasn’t thinking about the studio,” Andy said. “Or your clients. I was thinking that telling a mob boss’s wife ‘no’ might not be good for the health and welfare of you .”

Nine

    “Are you sure you want me to abandon you like this?” Andy inquired as A.J. got out of the car.
    That was almost too easy. A.J. opened her mouth but let it go. “I can handle it,” she said.
    Andy looked unconvinced.
    “I’ve been managing just fine without you for over a year now.”
    He winced, and A.J. relented. “ Thanks, but I can cope. Honestly. I’ll see you back at the house this evening.”
    Slamming shut the sedan door, she started briskly up the walkway through the gauntlet of bodies and equipment.
    Suze, blonde hair on end and looking like one of the