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3
Holly totes her carry-on bag to the luggage carousel and sits down to wait. Her phone rings again. This time it’s Barbara. She also wants to know if Holly is in Iowa City. It seems to be the question of the day.
“I am. Go, me.”
“Jerome is going to talk to your bartender friend on his lunch break,” Barbara says. “I would have gone along, but we’re moving a bunch of band gear from the old Sam’s Club to the Mingo.”
“Don’t strain your back,” Holly says. “Lift with your legs, not your—”
Barbara laughs. “I love you, Holly. How do you get involved in these things? Hartsfield, Morris Bellamy, the Harrises…” She pauses, then adds, “Ondowsky.”
There’s someone else as well, one that Holly tries not to think of… but of course Ondowsky makes her think of the outsider who lookedlike Terry Maitland. Both were vampires who drank pain instead of blood.
“This isn’t my case, Barb. It’s Izzy’s.”
“Keep telling yourself that. You attract weirdos the way a magnet attracts iron filings.” She pauses, then says, “That might have come out wrong.”
“I think it did.” In Holly’s opinion, Barb doesn’t need to know that Holly has already been on the phone with Izzy about the Surrogate Juror Murders… which, give the Outlaw Podcaster his due, is actually a pretty good name. “But I forgive you, because it’s possibly true. No weirdos on this job, though.”
“You hope.”
“Yes. I hope.”
Barbara says, “In a mystery novel, McKay would have ordered one of her dastardly minions to kill those people in order to get her precious lecture date back.”
“That makes no logical sense,” Holly says, “and in any case, life isn’t a mystery novel.” Although sometimes it seems that way. Her life, at least.
The luggage carousel begins to turn, and the first bags appear.
“I have to go, Barb. And remember, lift with thelegs, never with the back.”
“Will do. You take good care of yourself, Hol. Guard that woman’s body.”
“True, Boo.” She has picked this expression up from Jerome and uses it when it seems appropriate. She believes it makes her sound hip.
4
Her little gray suitcase—slightly scuffed, the veteran of many trips—appears on the carousel. It’s followed by a piece of luggage she’s never had occasion to use before: a yellow box made of high-impact plastic. Unlocking it requires a four-digit code. Hanging from the handle is a red tag that readsFIREARM UNLOADED. The handgun carry-case was a Christmas present two years ago from Pete, her ex-partner.
Before Holly can put her personal phone back in the jacket pocket of her sensible pants suit, her Finders Keepers phone begins to ring in the jacket’s other pocket. Holly takes it out, aware that she now has a phone in each hand.I am the perfect twenty-first-century woman, she thinks. The screen says BLOCKED NUMBER, but she’s pretty sure she knows who it is.
“Finders Keepers, Holly Gibney speaking. How can I help?”
“It’s Corrie, Ms. Gibney. Corrie Anderson, Kate’s assistant? How was your flight?”
“Fine.” It was actually quite bumpy, as puddle-jumper flights tend to be.
“Kate wants to know if you’d like the hotel to send a car to pick you up.”
“I’ve reserved a rental.” Holly knows from her conversation with McKay that they are driving from city to city, so Holly will drive, too… but not exactly with them. She’ll post up and back, looking for any followers. “I hope to be there in an hour, maybe sooner.”
“We—that is, Kate—wants you onboard as soon as possible. Our secret admirer has been in touch again. Sent a picture of Kate and me with our arms around each other after the Reno gig. One word scrawled across it in red lipstick. Any idea what it was?”
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say it was probablylesbians.”
“Wow, you really are a detective.”
Holly considers sayingtrue, Boo, and doesn’t. Instead she says that one wasn’t particularly tough and tells Corrie she’ll be there as soon as possible… but first she needs a moment to think. Toclarify.