BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (88)
  1. Cover Page
  2. Front Flap
  3. Title Page
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. Dedication
  6. Contents
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. Back Flap
  88. Back Cover

One of the many people watching the interview was Scott. He glanced around his office nervously. He was sure that he had seen that private investigator before. A pit formed in his stomach when he realized she had been at the restaurant last night. He had seen her clearly from where he was sitting. Quickly he picked up the phone and called Jillian.

She answered after three rings. “Where are you?” he sputtered.

“In the car.”

“Did you see that author Nora Regan Reilly and her daughter when they showed up at Frawley’s place?”

“Yes.”

“Did she recognize you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The daughter was at the restaurant last night.”

“She was? I didn’t see her.”

“Your back was to her. She definitely saw us. Her name is Regan Reilly and she’s a private investigator. Don’t go back to the house. The last thing we need is her asking questions.”

15

I’m getting log cabin fever, Cleo thought. Maybe I’ll go for a walk. She went into the rustic-looking yet thankfully modern bathroom and took a long shower. When she turned off the water she wrapped herself in a towel. After combing her hair and applying her face and body creams, she walked through the living room and up the flight of steps to the sleeping loft.

Daisy better get here soon, she thought, rummaging through the drawers. I’m running out of clean clothes. The duds I left at Frawley’s are probably being picked over right now. I should have checked the house more carefully when I packed up, but I was terrified. I couldn’t stay there one more minute. I probably should have finally called the police but I couldn’t bear any more crazy publicity. Who would leave a letter like that? Only someone deranged.

I want people to forget that lousy film, she thought, as she eyed her running shorts. I don’t need to give it any more attention. I’ll never get another decent part if that image of the stalker victim follows me. As it is all the scripts I’ve been sent lately are garbage. And I’m not going to sign on for another role until my contract with Flakey is up.

Feeling more lonely and anxious than ever, Cleo decided to go for a run. She quickly dressed in her running clothes, put on her socks and sneakers, then descended the stairs. She was tempted to look at her computer for any updates on Edna’s sale, but decided she couldn’t bear to read another word about it.