Page 61 of Killer on the First Page

“Have you read Mr. Valentine’s books?” Miranda asked.

“A couple of them. Not my cup of chamomile. I spend my days doing police paperwork, why would I want to spend my off-hours reading the same? His hero—big, burly Bill with a big, burly mustache—is no match for Compendium Cathy, if you ask me. Now that’s a sleuth!”

“Mustache?” said Miranda.

“Yeah, his LAPD lieutenant character has a handlebar mustache. The character was drummed out of the force for shooting a Boy Scout in the knee, repeatedly, while he was drunk and on duty, and has been trying to redeem himself since. Spends half his time in seedybars, the other half in seedy nightclubs. Compare that to Compendium Cathy, who can solve anything with just an almanac, a bit of string, and some basic trigonometry. She’s amazing!”

The mustache. That was the key.

First thing tomorrow, Miranda would pay a visit to the Opera House, speak to the mysterious inquisitor firsthand.

Geri, meanwhile, was demurely hiding a yawn of her own behind the back of her hand. It was well past midnight. Time for Miranda and Andrew to finally head back to Bea’s.

The night might have ended there, but the horror was only starting. And it began with the single creak of a single step on the stairway in Hiram Henry House...

Chapter Sixteen

The Game Is Afoot!

In the stillness, that single creak took on a disproportionate weight. And when Miranda looked to the stairs, she saw the publicist standing frozen in mid-step, staring back at her with a feigned smile.

Awkward.

“Oh. Hello, Miranda. I didn’t know you were here.”

It would appear that, instead of going to bed, Sheryl Youngblut had decided to creep out of the B&B. She had her jacket on, was carrying her boots.

Miranda smiled up at her. “We were just leaving.”

“We?”

As Sheryl descended the stairwell, the presence of Officer Holly and Deputy Andrew was revealed.

“Holly has been posted here for the night,” Miranda explained. “But Andrew and I shall be on our way shortly. It has been a long and difficult night.”

“A police presence? Here at our B&B? Why?” Sheryl asked, as disingenuously as possible.

“Why?” asked Officer Holly, redundantly it was presumed. “Take a moment. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Oh, but I’m sure Fairfax won’t come back. And even if he does, he’s hardly a risk.”

Switching to Full Officer Mode, Holly said, “Ma’am, we have reason to believe that Mr. DePoy was involved in the death of Kane Hamady, and as we have not been able to ascertain the current location of Mr. DePoy, you are advised to stay indoors, with your door locked and the window closed, for your own safety.”

“I only wanted to step out andnothave a cigarette. I quit smoking years ago, but when I’m under stress, the old yearning comes back.”

Bringing in a pot of Sleepy Thyme tea and biscuits for the police officer, Geri was surprised to see one of her guests. “Oh, Miss Youngblut, you’re still up! Is everything okay? Are the pillows too firm? Too soft? Too many?”

Distracted by Geri’s relentless hospitality, Sheryl said, “Pillows are fine, everything is fine, I was just—I was stepping out, only for a moment.”

“I would advise against that,” said Officer Holly.

Miranda, sitting down on the sofa nearest Holly, scooted over and patted the cushion next to her. “Come, Sheryl. Sit, sit. Geri has made tea. We can talk. You seem distressed.”

Defeated, Sheryl placed her boots by the door and joined them, still in her jacket even though she was going nowhere.

“It’s been a long day,” she said, and on this the others agreed.

A very long day indeed.