Murder Follows Money by Lora Roberts Page A

want some water. That room-service coffee was terrible. And they didn’t snip the end of the rose before putting in the vase; it’s already starting to droop.”
    Kim pulled out the familiar green bottle. Silently she got ice and a lime wedge.
    “Make me one too.” Naomi pushed in at the kitchen door. The little room was crowded, and not just with people; the bad vibes were rife. “My throat is as dry as Hannah’s shortbread.”
    Hannah didn’t rise to the bait. She took her glass of water and stalked into the living room.
    Naomi wouldn’t let up, though. She grabbed her own glass before Kim had even finished pouring it, and followed Hannah out the door. Plunking down her glass right next to Hannah’s on the polished mahogany coffee table, she slumped into a chair. She didn’t look perky at all. Her hair was pulled back in its usual severe bun, but wisps escaped to straggle around her sallow face, and the lines around her mouth seemed deeper than usual. Her hand shook when she reached for her glass.
    “That’s my glass.” Hannah spoke sharply. Naomi didn’t acknowledge the words, but she did change the direction of her grasping hand. Her grip on the glass wasn’t good; its ice-beaded sides slipped through her fingers and landed on the oriental rug, spilling all over Hannah’s elegant Italian pumps.
    “God damn it.” Hannah leaped to her feet. “You idiot. You drunken, washed-up has-been.”
    “No more yelling.” Naomi put a hand to her head. “You did enough of that last night. People might get the perfectly correct idea that you’re a shrewish bitch.” She looked down at the mess on the carpet. “But I’m sorry about the shoes. They were very nice.”
    Hannah kicked off the shoes and upended one. More water dripped onto the carpet. “Now I’ll have to change.”
    “Can’t you wait until after the interview?” I looked at the clock. The radio station would be calling in ten more minutes.
    “I don’t like having wet feet. Stall them if they call before I get back.” Hannah stalked off toward her bedroom, and I ran to the kitchen for a cloth to sop up the mess, then returned to the living room. Kim came out to help me, while Naomi staggered into the kitchen and returned in a minute with another glass of water.
    Kim picked up ice cubes and dropped them into the glass Naomi had overturned. “This beautiful rug,” she said in distress.
    “Bitch deserved it.” Naomi put her new glass carefully on the table next to Hannah’s, and shook her finger at Kim. “Don’t bother to defend her. Look how she’s treating your poor old aunt.”
    Kim flushed. “Aunt Naomi—”
    “She’s a snake. ‘Oh, Naomi, what a clever crepe maker. Of course I’ll be glad to produce it for you. Sign here.’ What an idiot I was. But she’ll pay.”
    “Don’t talk so crazy.” Kim looked nervously down the hallway. “She’ll be out soon for her radio interview, and then we’ll have to load up and go.
    “Not me.” Naomi’s expression of concentrated malevolence was frightening. “I’m never going to hop to her command again.”
    “Naomi—”
    “Don’t you Naomi me.” Naomi drew herself up. “Do you want to always be some little jumped-up gofer? You’re a fool, Kim. You want to see what happens to Hannah’s help? Just take a look. I know you think you could do my job. But I’m not going quietly. No one pushes Naomi Matthews around and gets away with it. You hear me?”
    Hannah strode back out into the room, once more perfectly groomed. “The whole damned hotel can hear you.” She looked down at Naomi with contempt.
    “Let them hear me. As long as everyone knows you for the bitch you are, I don’t care.”
    Kim, looking distressed, pushed one of the water glasses over to her aunt, but Naomi didn’t notice, so concentrated was she on Hannah.
    “Since your livelihood is bound up in my career, I’d think you would care.” Hannah bent over, picked up a glass of water, and took a long