The Christie Caper - Carolyn Hart [26]
Chief Saulter sipped his Coke and surveyed the Palmetto House suite. “Pretty fancy. Haven’t been inside since that lady decorator from Atlanta redid everything.”
Max smiled happily. “Some wonderful improvements.”
White wicker furniture gave the hotel suite an air of casual tropical elegance, which was enhanced by the Gauguin-bright cushions and lush potted ferns. The dramatic focus of the room was, of course, the full wall mural. Each suite boasted an original, one-of-a-kind island scene. In this one, a flat-bottomed wooden oyster boat lay abandoned, its bow jammed into a marsh hammock. Cordgrass rippled around the small tree island like a deck of cards in expert hands. Standing behind the forsaken boat, a black-masked raccoon watched as an elegant white ibis probed the murky water for crayfish. Not a cloud marred the soft blue of the summer sky.
Saulter cleared his throat. “Okay, Annie, I want the low-down on the stuff at the bookstore tonight Why was everybody hacked at this Bledsoe guy?”
“I don’t know about everybody,” Annie replied grimly, “but I know that Emma Clyde has it in for him. Do you know what she did this afternoon?”
Max handed her a drink, and she scooted over to make room for him to sit on the love seat beside her.
The chief put his glass down and flipped open his notebook. “I wanted to ask you about that Since you were in the car.”
Annie was impressed. How had the chief already heard about Emma’s car assault?
“Stopped on a dime, I heard,” Henny said admiringly.
“Barely,” Annie snapped. She’d been irritated with Emma at the time, but now she was furious. Shoot out her bookstore’s windows! “Listen, Chief, there’s bad blood between Emma and Bledsoe. I don’t know any details, but Emma deliberately tried to scare the hell out of him this afternoon, and I think that’s what happened again tonight”
“You think Emma shot at Bledsoe?”
“I sure do. This afternoon Emma stormed into Death on Demand, wanting to know why I’d invited him. I hadn’t, of course. He registered just like everybody else. According to Emma, he’s been vicious to the cozy writers and she couldn’t believe he would come to this conference.”
“Now, Annie,” the chief chided, “there has to be more to it than that. Emma damn near ran over the man.”
“But she didn’t hit him, Chief,” she emphasized. “Just like the bullets missed him tonight.”
Saulter looked at her sharply, then scrawled rapidly in the notebook. “Yep, I get you. But why the hell?”
“I have no idea.” Annie tried to look as limpid as Archie Goodwin defending a pretty girl to his orchid-loving, woman-hating boss. She didn’t want to drag Fleur Calloway into it.
The chief looked at her sharply. “Buck Hughes, the doorman, swears it was deliberate. He said Emma drove an ambulance in North Africa and she for sure knew how to handle that Jaguar.”
Max spoke indistinctly as he munched a handful of unsalted peanuts. “I’d say Emma’s always in control—of cars, herself, her world.”
“Dear Emma. Such a strong personality,” Laurel murmured.
Saulter rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “Spite, huh?” Annie could see the tension easing out of his shoulders. After all, using a gun to scare someone was reprehensible, but it was a lot less worrisome than attempted murder. “It’s sure possible. Emma left the store before Bledsoe.”
Annie managed not to look as satisfied as she felt. She hoped Saulter went straight to Emma’s mansion and rousted her out of bed for a third degree. This appealing vision didn’t last long. Saulter wasn’t that kind of lawman.
Annie couldn’t resist adding, “It almost has to be Emma. How could anybody else in the store have known Bledsoe was coming to the reception? And why would anybody come to a conference packing a twenty-two?”
Henny made a judicious harumph.
Annie had an instant visual image of Mr.