Dying for a Dude (Laurel McKay Mysteries Book 4) by Cindy Sample Page A

evening broadcasters. She stuck one slim leg in front of Tom to halt his departure.
    “Do you think someone is crazy enough to reenact those hangings of more than a century ago?” Leila’s voice switched from husky to horror-filled.
    A man in a red plaid shirt yelled out, “Maybe an unfriendly spirit got him. This old hotel is rumored to be haunted.”
    Leila’s thick-lashed violet eyes widened at this unexpected and National Enquirer worthy comment.
    Tom’s face froze. I doubted he’d considered the possibility that Spencer’s death could be the first of many. Even worse was the thought of a vengeful ghost unhappy the owner was tearing up his home sweet home. Many of the historic Main Street buildings were known for their spirited spirits. Had Hank noticed any signs of paranormal activity in the building?
    I shivered and wondered if a ghostly spirit had passed through me. I spun around and sighed with relief when I realized the door to the air-conditioned drug store had opened behind me.
    Tom grabbed the microphone and addressed the camera. “This murder was committed by a person, not a ghost, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t sensationalize it any more than necessary. Thank you. The Sheriff’s Office will keep the media apprised of our progress.”
    Tom thrust the mike to Leila who handed it off to another woman. The newscaster latched onto Tom’s arm and continued to question him. I figured Tom could use an interruption from the nosy newsy, so I wormed my way through the onlookers who began to disperse once the broadcast ended.
    I approached Tom and waited for him to register my presence. When that didn’t happen, I leaned forward trying to catch Leila’s next question. She licked her lips and with a rapt look in her eye, laid her palm on his forearm. “I’m sure our viewers would also like to know if the detective in charge of this case is single.”
    Tom took a surprised step back, allowing me the opportunity to answer Leila’s question.
    “No, he’s not.” I pulled myself up to all five feet four and a quarter inches and thrust out my assets. “Are we done here?”
    Leila eyed my chest, which I hoped was not covered with crumbs from the oatmeal raisin cookie I’d snagged from Gran. It’s hard to be impressive when you’re wearing your lunch.
    She smiled and extended her hand. “Leila Hansen. Are you assisting in the investigation, Miss––?”
    “No, she is not,” Tom answered for me. “Thank you, Ms. Hansen. We’ll contact you with any updates.” He placed his hand on the small of my back and propelled me along the sidewalk, away from the news crew but in the opposite direction of the bank.
    Tom opened the door to Hangtown Bakery. He surveyed the room, but it appeared safe from media intruders. He led the way to an unoccupied table, pulled out my chair for me then practically fell into the opposite seat.
    “Tough day?” I reached across the table and took his large hand in mine. Our fingers remained intertwined for a few heavenly minutes.
    “I need to get back to the office,” he said. “But I had to escape that woman first.”
    I released his hand. “Where did that guy come up with the idea of a homicidal haunt?”
    Tom tipped his wooden chair so far back I thought he would fall over, but years of practice had refined his tipping to perfection. “Who knows? It’s bad enough to have a public spectacle like Spencer’s murder, but for the media to add a paranormal element is sheer idiocy. All I need are a bunch of loonies running around with electro-magnetometers trying to mess up the crime scene.”
    “So you don’t think an annoyed ghost knocked off Spencer?” I giggled, thinking that any self-respecting spirit would have taken it out on the contractor.
    Tom shook his head. “No, this was plain and intentional murder.”
    I moved closer, curious if he would share any details with me. “Nothing has been mentioned about how Spencer was murdered. I assume he was killed