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Jessica picked up the crystal tumbler with a double shot of Macallan’s fifty-year-old single-malt scotch and took a sip, kind of enjoying the way the detective was all but squirming.
The detective nodded. “We’re in a small town, Ms. Murdoch, and what a judge wouldn’t sign off on in the City of Baltimore or even in Portland, they’d be more inclined to force the issue here in Kennebunkport.”
“He has a point, Jess,” said Christie. “Just give it to him.”
Jessica looked at Christie and didn’t miss the upturn at the corners of her friend’s mouth. Jessica would have bet next month’s mortgage—if she’d had a mortgage, which she didn’t—that Christie had already made a copy.
“Sometimes, Christie, you’re no fun at all,” said Jessica, fishing out the drive, wiping it off and offering it to the detective. “But it would have been more fun if Detective Wilder had gone after it himself.”
“On that, Ms. Murdoch, we can agree.” He took the thumb drive. “Thank you. Ladies, I’m going to admonish you again to keep out of this investigation.”
With that, he turned to leave them. All four women watched him go. He was extraordinarily good looking and well built, coming or going.
“Please tell me you already made a copy,” said Fiona.
Christie’s grin broadened as she reached into her purse and pulled out another thumb drive. “This ain’t my first rodeo.”
Jessica signaled the waitress. “Can I trouble you to have our dinner sent upstairs to my room?”
“That won’t be a problem; I’ll see to it myself.”
“Thank you so much. Ladies, grab your drinks and let’s head upstairs.”
Laughing, the four new friends headed to the elevator, teasing Jessica about her private key card and floor. She led them into her room, and Lori walked to the bank of windows.
“This is gorgeous. I really like the B&B I’m at, but wow. Is this what it’s like to be you?”
“Yeah, it’s all glamour back at home in Badger’s Drift when I’m walking around my yard picking up dog poop.”
They all laughed. Fiona said, “I used to tell myself that’s how I stayed grounded—cleaning my cat’s litter box.”
Christie smiled. “I justified hiring a housecleaner to come every other week by saying it gave me more time to write.”
“I know that can sound like justification, but everything I can hire out to do, I do. The more uninterrupted time I have to write, the more I can, but I can also have things that help keep me balanced—taking Tracer on hikes, learning to sail, that kind of thing. Writing can be an isolating profession, so I try to get out and do things.”
“Agreed,” said Lori. “I was a teacher, and so I saw people—adults and kids—all day long, five days a week. I realized when I started writing full time just how easy I could slip into becoming a recluse.”
“Christie, do you use a Mac?” asked Jessica.
“Nah, I’m old school. Just a Windows-based laptop.”
“Me, too. That’ll make this easier. Let’s get that thumb drive plugged in and see what there is to see.”
There was a knock on the door, and the waitress from down in the restaurant brought in their food and set up the dining table in the main room of the suite with a tablecloth, fine china, silverware and the like. She set out their salads and then put their entrees in a specially designed warming oven built into the cabinetry.
“Ladies, will this do? The food in the warmer should be fine for up to an hour without getting overcooked. I can either leave you hot pads or you can call down and someone will come up to take them out for you.”
“This is perfect. Leave the hot pads; we’ll take care of ourselves,” said Jessica, grabbing the bill, adding a substantial tip, and signing for it.
“Any chance the rest of us are going to pay part of that?” asked Christie.
“Nope,” answered Jessica. “Let’s sit down and have our salads over at the computer and see what we can see. That way, we can talk about it over dinner.”
“What happened to not getting involved?” teased Fiona.
“I guess I’m more invested in the Mystery Writers’ Murder Club than I thought. But for the record, from now on, cold cases only. Agreed?” The others nodded. “I thought we might meet every other month, rotating between our hometowns. Whoever is hosting will find a cold case they think we should look into.”
“What if we can’t figure it out?” asked Lori.
