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“What is that?”
“Tetrodotoxin…”
“Pufferfish toxin?”
“You know your poisons.”
“Like I said, I write murder mysteries for a living. You don’t just think I’m going to let you inject me, do you?”
“I don’t think you have a choice. This stuff is extremely toxic and isn’t usually found in a routine autopsy. This is a little town. They aren’t really set up for even routine autopsies.”
“So, your plan is to murder me, and then what? Murder the others? What good does that do you? Detective Wilder has a copy as well.”
“You think you’re so smart,” Stella said snidely. “If I kill you, that’ll be a second murder. Trust me, these Keystone Kops can’t handle one, so two will give me plenty of time to slip out to one of those lovely tropical countries with no extradition treaty. I’ll have to see if I can’t transfer the site to another domain, but I have my list of regular customers. They won’t care which site they get their free books from.”
Later, Jessica would think the sweetest sound she’d ever heard was the faint click of someone using a keycard to unlock the door. Please, Detective Wilder, be as smart as I think you are.
“Put the needle down, Stella. It’s all over,” said the detective in a calm, clear voice.
As both she and Stella turned their attention to him, they saw the voice was backed up not only by several uniformed police officers with their standard-issue police revolvers drawn, but the detective himself had what looked to be a semi-automatic pistol leveled at her. There was no way he’d miss at so close a distance.
“How?” Stella asked.
“The IP address. It didn’t take our tech people long to track it back to you.” Stella raised the needle as if she intended to harm herself. “Don’t. I can shoot it out of your hand before you can inject it. Drop the needle, Stella. Then put your hands behind your head…”
The rest of what the detective had to say was a blur and faded into nothing. Jessica backed away and made her way to the bar, giving Stella a wide berth; she poured herself a scotch. In her peripheral vision, Jessica could see Stella complying and one of the police officers holstering his gun and coming around to put cuffs on her.
She downed the scotch in one gulp and poured another.
“No ice?” Wilder asked.
“Are you kidding? Philistine. This is fifty-year-old single-malt.”
She knocked back another. She picked up the bottle, and the detective gently eased it from her hand.
He picked up the hotel phone and hit zero. “This is Detective Thorn Wilder. We just arrested the suspect. Thank you for your help. Can you order a couple of breakfasts and bring them up to Ms. Murdoch’s room? Thanks.”
Jessica leaned on the bar, her hands clenching the sides. “I’m not in the mood for breakfast or a friendly chat with the police. In fact, I’d like my scotch back.”
He gently pried her hands loose and led her to the couch. She thought about resisting him and decided that would be rude. After all, he had just, if not saved her life, then certainly kept her from being harmed.
“How about we just sit down and have breakfast. If you want to talk, great. If not, once I know you’re going to be okay, I’ll leave you be, but we are going to need a statement from you before you leave Kennebunkport. If you really want me gone, I’ll be happy to call one of your friends. I just don’t want you alone.”
Jessica laughed, noting it sounded just shy of hysterical, and realized that the two shots of scotch on an empty stomach had made her just the tiniest bit loopy.
“First, Detective McSexy—okay, I didn’t say that out loud, did I?”
He chuckled. It was a rich, deep sound that reminded her of hot fudge, oozing down the side of a scoop of French vanilla ice cream, or even better pecan praline. “I’m afraid you did. Maybe I should call Christie Crofton.”
“Nah. You’re much better to look at.” The scotch was definitely kicking in. “Not that Christie isn’t nice to look at, but I’m definitely heterosexual.” She cupped her hands over her mouth.
“Good to know.” They were both saved by the knock on the door. “Why don’t you just sit here, and I’ll get that.”
She watched him walk away, thinking again what a great ass he had. She cocked her head to one side, which led to leaning down on the arm of the couch.
The last thing she remembered was McSexy, covering her with the soft, cashmere throw the hotel provided. Stella had been right—not about the pirate site or the murder, but about it being nice to be able to afford a hotel like this one.
“Just take a little nap, Jess. Maybe if we meet again, our timing will be better.”
