Murder Follows Money by Lora Roberts

didn’t believe me.
    The elevator was quiet and luxurious. Because it was chilly outside, I’d worn jeans and a sweater; there didn’t seem to be much point in dressing up to please Hannah, when she was not capable of being pleased.
    I got out at the lobby to take the elevator to the Presidential Suite and discovered that it required insertion of a room key before it would take me there. I didn’t have a key. I could have asked the front desk clerk to take me up, but it grated on me to have to supplicate like that. I saw a bellhop with a cart piled with luggage, and by following him I found the freight elevator. He didn’t say anything when I got on. I got off at my floor and knocked at the kitchen door.
    Kim opened it. “There you are. I wondered when you’d get here.” Her eyes were big in her thin face. She hustled me into the kitchen and closed the door.
    “They’ve been at it all night,” she whispered. “I don’t know how much more I can take. Naomi went through every one of the little bottles of booze in the limo, and then she drank a bunch of stuff from the bar here. She was yelling, and Hannah yelled back. It’s been impossible. They didn’t knock off till way after three this morning.”
    Don came into the kitchen. “You should have come out with me. Not stay here and listen to those two old biddies claw at each other.”
    Kim didn’t smile. “I felt someone should be here. Just in case . . ."
    “In case one of them jumped the other one?” Don smiled derisively. “Not likely. They’re just having a cat fight.”
    “I don’t know.” Kim hugged herself, shivering despite the thick sweater she wore. “After what Hannah said, I just don’t know. I kept thinking about my uncle. His death was kind of sudden. What if Naomi did cause it? What else would she do?”
    We stood around the kitchen in uneasy silence for a moment. “Hey, kid,” Don said finally. “Don’t go looking for trouble.”
    “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And they wouldn’t stop going at each other.” Kim dug a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. “It was awful.”
    I set down my knapsack on the table and searched for a way to turn the conversation away from Kim’s fears about her aunt. “They’ll be ready to make up today.”
    “Either that or Hannah will send Naomi off.” Don patted Kim awkwardly on the shoulder. “You’ll see. I’m going to get my cameras ready.”
    He vanished into his room.
    “Hannah told me she wanted to prepare crepes again,” Kim said dolefully. “But I think that was just to make Naomi mad. Can we cook at the bookstores?”
    “Let me check the schedule.” I opened the knapsack and shuffled through papers. “It says here we’re supposed to give out cinnamon roll-ups. Whatever they are.”
    “I made them.” Kim pointed to a neat stack of white boxes on the table. “We brought along a stock of Hannah’s special boxes, and since I couldn’t sleep last night, I baked. But this morning she came out and said we were going to do crepes.”
    “She is wrong.” I sniffed. The air did indeed have the scent of cinnamon.
    “Well, don’t tell her that.” Kim looked apprehensive. “She’s so stubborn, you know.”
    The woman herself swept into the room. “Finally you’re here.” She didn’t look as if she’d spent most of the night arguing; her hair was arranged in its rigid iron curls, and her makeup was perfectly applied. “You’re late. We do have a schedule to keep, you know.”
    “The radio interview is in fifteen minutes.” I went past her into the main room. “Where do you want to be during it? On this sofa? Is Naomi going to be out here?”
    Hannah looked down her nose. “She doesn’t need to be present. She doesn’t need to come with us at all today. Perhaps she’d rather stay and find a bar.”
    “I’ll check that the limo will be ready by seven-forty-five.” I escaped to the kitchen, and Kim followed.
    Unfortunately, Hannah followed Kim. “I