CHAPTER 63

BJ collected the computer printed pages, and arranged them in numerical order. Gently tapped the bottom edges on her desk to straighten them.

“Not if they’re compelling enough to hold everyone’s attention. Besides, it’s my conference room the writers group uses free of charge. Well, so long as they continue to pay for the food in the restaurant instead of bringing their own, it’ll be free.”

She laid the papers flat on her desk. Brought her chair closer, put on her reading glasses. A quick sip of coffee to wet her throat. At the last second she decided she has read the excerpt out loud long enough to catch errors and improve the flow. Leaning back comfortably in her seat, she mouthed the words.

Alma knew that the family lawyer, Richmond Grande, was in possession of certain information that would prove damaging to one party if he were to have a little chat with Detective Boutin.

She entered the lawyer’s house with ease by means of an unlocked back door, careful not to catch her long black cloak with the red satin lining on anything.

BJ drew a red line across the rest of the sentence after the word door. “Readers might think she’s a vampire.”

Alma heard a faint noise further up the hallway. She crept toward the room, sneaked a quick look through the narrow opening in the door. The room appeared to be a den. Grande stood by the TV with his back to her. Something was familiar. She nudged the door open a few inches. Recognized the voice of the evening news reporter.

Grande raised the volume on the TV as if for her benefit.

“Yes, we have a multiple homicide on our hands,” said Captain Orly Foret. “There are no suspects in custody at this time. However, DNA analysis has given us a significant clue, and we are acting on it as we speak. That’s all we have for you at this time. G’day, ladies and gentlemen.”

Obviously angered by the sudden loud voice of a salesperson in a commercial Grande cut off the TV. He sipped brandy. Stretched out his other arm to press his hand against the edge of the fireplace mantle. Stared down at the unlit logs on an iron grate.

Alma stared angrily at him. He knows too much.

She squatted down. Set a little decorative box on the floor. Raised the lid. Jumped out of the way. Its tongue flicking in and out of its mouth the coral snake eased over the edge of the box slower than pus oozes from an open wound.

An involuntary moan. BJ used the red pen to slash everything after the edge of the box.

The small but deadly creature slithered alongside the baseboard on its way to Grande’s desk. Stopped beside a tall wicker wastebasket, and coiled its body tight. Alma was pleased the creature had gone where she wanted it to go.

Red on yellow kills a fellow. Alma moved quickly toward the front door. Same colors as the handcuffs I used to tame those cheating hearts in hotel suites.

“Red on black, venom lack. Too bad Richmond Grande didn’t know the difference.”