Untimely Death by Elizabeth J. Duncan Page B

spoke. “Wow. That’s heavy.”
    *
    “Time you weren’t here, darling.” Brian Prentice buttoned his shirt and poured himself a drink. “First one today,” he said. “I’d offer you one, but it’s really time you were off.” Lauren snuggled against him, but when he didn’t respond, she stood up. “I’ll miss you, love,” hesaid. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow? I’ve got a late call.”
    “I’ll have to see what Simon has in mind for me. He doesn’t know I’m back yet.”
    Having come straight from the hospital with no coat, she left wearing only the jeans and cheerful coral-colored sweater Charlotte had chosen for her. The late-afternoon sun was starting to slip behind the hills, sending a scattering of slanted rays through the skeleton branches of the trees as she strode down the path to the road that led to the hotel. Lauren crossed her arms and hugged herself in a warming gesture against the wind. As she crossed the road, the hum of a car’s engine motoring up the drive urged her on. A moment later, she opened the back door, relieved to step into the welcoming warmth of the hotel.
    Lady Deborah steered the car into the parking spot in front of the bungalow and switched off the ignition. She remained where she was for a moment before reaching for her handbag.
    That was a little too close for comfort , thought Brian Prentice as his wife’s footsteps on the stairs signaled her approach. He topped up his glass to calm his nerves.
    “Come in darling. It’s open.”
    *
    Lauren unlocked the door to her bedroom and entered. After a quick look around, her first impression was thatthe place had been cleaned and tidied, and apparently someone had gone to the trouble to change the bedding. The ugly, dusty rose candlewick bedspread had been replaced with a new, pale yellow one. But she felt no gratitude toward whoever had done this for her. It was the least they could do for someone who’d been so sick.
    Now that she was back, she had a lot to think about. That policeman’s questions were troubling her, and she couldn’t get them out of her head. Where had she been and what had she been doing in the forty-eight hours before she got sick? Who could have made her so sick that she’d almost died?
    She kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the narrow bed. Let’s see . There’d been that argument, she’d gone for a costume fitting, she’d spoken to Brian backstage, had her meals in the staff canteen as usual . . . nothing out of the ordinary. But if someone had given her an overdose of Tylenol—and apparently someone had—she couldn’t work out how or when it had happened.
    She turned on her side and yawned. A dull, heavy feeling was tugging at her eyelids, and she felt dangerously overcome with fatigue. Maybe a little nap before dinner . . . she’d just close her eyes for a minute or two. It had probably been a mistake to go and see Brian when she’d just been released from hospital. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea getting involved with him. It had to end sometime, and now might be a good timeto dump him, so she could concentrate on preparing for the upcoming season. Maybe try a little harder on the publicity side. She’d got all she was going to get out of poor old Brian anyway—some good acting tips and a nice ring.
    Her eyes flew open. How could she have forgotten about the ring? She raised herself to a sitting position and yanked the bedspread off the pillow. She lifted the pillow. Nothing. She placed her hand between the top and bottom sheet, smoothing them. She sank back. Of course. The bedding had been changed, so whoever changed the bed must have found the little red box with the ring in it. Maybe it was on the dresser. She got up and examined every surface in the room. Nothing. She pulled out drawers and rooted around but didn’t find it. With a furiously pounding heart, she sat down on the bed to think.
    *
    Dinner in the canteen was a low-key affair. People who