A Taste of Murder

Caitlin followed, giving Jazzy a worried look. Jazzy stared after the kids. They looked to be around twelve. Probably three of the contestants she’d judge tomorrow. A new shudder rippled through her. She hated beauty pageants.

Liz’s voice continued from inside the room. “And even if his death is related to the barbecue contest, I’m from out of town. Nobody has any reason to kill me. Wow. Would you look at this place?”

Jazzy brushed away the lingering uneasiness and followed her friends. She came to a stop inside the door. “‘Wow’ is right.”

The room was twice the size of their previous one, and it wasn’t even the bedroom. When Bradley said they would have a suite, Jazzy assumed that meant they’d get a room with a kitchenette. But this was a true suite. The great room in which she stood boasted a full kitchen to her right, a glass dining table with four chairs and a comfortable living room area. The sofa and love seat were angled to face a large-screen plasma television set. The curtains had been pulled back from a sliding glass door, and through the glass Jazzy glimpsed sunlight glittering on the rippled surface of the Kentucky River.

Caitlin peeked through an open doorway on the other side of a full-size refrigerator. “There’s another TV in here. Still only two beds, though.”

Liz dropped onto the sofa. “That’s okay. I think this thing folds out. I don’t mind sleeping here. Besides, I didn’t tell you something.” She gave them each a sheepish grin. “I snore. You two might want to close the door.”

That settled, they began investigating their suite. Jazzy was bent over, checking out the lower kitchen cabinets, which were spotless, when a loud knock sounded on the door. She jumped upright.

Caitlin laughed. “Relax. It’s probably our luggage.”

Better safe than sorry with a killer on the loose, Jazzy thought as she tiptoed to the door and peeked through the peephole. Relief softened her tense muscles at the telescopic image of Bradley. She unlocked the dead bolt and swung the door open.

A uniformed police officer stood beside the hotel manager. Correction. Not a police officer. A silver pin over his left pocket proclaimed him to be Sheriff Sam Maguire.

“Miss Delaney,” Bradley began, but the sheriff cut him off.

“You’re the one who found the murder victim.” His brusque statement was not a question, but Jazzy nodded anyway. “I want to talk to you.”

He elbowed his way around Bradley and brushed past Jazzy into the room without being asked. Bradley caught her with a glance and lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. Then he gestured toward a cart piled with their luggage.

“May I come in?” he asked deliberately.

“Of course.” Jazzy backed up and held the door open as he wheeled the cart past her. He ignored the sheriff and headed for the bedroom.

“I hope everything is to your liking,” he called over his shoulder.

Jazzy followed him as Caitlin and Liz introduced themselves to the sheriff. “This is a terrific suite. Thank you so much for letting us use it.”

Bradley hefted Caitlin’s duffel bag off the cart and tossed it onto the first bed. Hiding a wince, Jazzy hurried to grab her violin case before he could treat it with similar disregard.

“I finally got in touch with Mr. Harris an hour ago. He was horrified, of course, and told me to do whatever I can to make you comfortable for your entire stay. Whatever you want is on the house.” Liz’s suitcase landed beside Caitlin’s bag with a bounce, then Bradley extracted a small card from his breast pocket. “Just show this and you’ll be taken care of anywhere in the hotel. The restaurant. The business center. There’s a nice lounge in the west corner of the lobby if you’d care for a cocktail before dinner.”

Jazzy took the card, but shook her head with a smile. “Thanks, but we don’t drink.”

“Oh.” He seemed momentarily nonplussed. Then his face cleared. “They make a mean Shirley Temple down there.”

She laughed. “Please tell Mr. Harris we appreciate everything.”

He hefted the last suitcase onto the bed. “Call me if you need anything.” His glance slid to the door. “And don’t let Buford Pusser in there rattle you.”

Working hard to hide her smile, Jazzy joined the others as Bradley let himself out. A glance at Sheriff Maguire’s stern face chased away all remnants of the smile.

“Shall we sit down?” The sheriff pulled a padded swivel chair out from the table.

Jazzy slid into the one across from him, Liz and Caitlin taking the other two. Sheriff Maguire leaned against the seat back and folded his arms across his chest.

“Tell me what happened. All of it. From the beginning.”

Irritation twitched Jazzy’s frazzled nerves. She’d told this story four times to the deputies, and then had written out a statement and signed it. Did they think she was lying? Maybe they were trying to trip her up.

Any protest she might have made faded before the piercing gaze leveled across the table at her. She rubbed sweaty palms on her jeans, then stopped when the sheriff’s eyes lowered to watch her hands through the glass tabletop.

For the fifth time that day, Jazzy recounted how Derrick had sent an e-mail three months ago saying he’d seen in her online profile that she played violin in a classical ensemble. She described their brief e-mail discussion establishing the terms of the job for his sister’s wedding. As she did, she realized that Sheriff Maguire probably knew all about that part, since his son was the groom. Then she outlined every detail she could remember from the time they pulled up to the front doors of the Executive Inn until she opened the shower curtain.

At least Sheriff Maguire listened without interrupting. Those two deputies hadn’t let her get a sentence out without a question or two. When she finished, he sat watching her in silence, tapping his pursed lips with an index finger. Jazzy shifted her position on the cushioned seat. The man’s stare put her in mind of spotlights and rubber hoses.

Caitlin cleared her throat, drawing his attention away from Jazzy. “Do you have any idea why someone might have killed that poor man?”

Liz interrupted before he could answer. “What she really wants to know is if you think we’re in any danger since we’re taking his place as judges in this festival thing.”

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