โThey look normal. In fact,โ I swiveled my head to survey
the people in the South Florida hotel lobby with us, โif it
was July instead of November, we could be in Uncommon Grounds.โ
Tennis togs, check. Golf shirts, check. Business suits,
check. People with time on their hands and too much money in
their wallets. Check, check.
Even the smells reminded me of my upscale coffeehouse back
home in Brookhills, Wisconsin, though these were emanating
from a small cart near the elevators. To one side of it, a
stylishly dressed, fashionably slim, unnaturally endowed
redhead (check, check, check) seemed to be holding some sort
of planning meeting, the group around her listening
attentively.
All of them were . . . extraordinarily ordinary. โWhere are
the Edgar Allan Poes with their ravens? The Sherlock
Holmeses wearing their deerstalkers?โ
Brookhills County Sheriff Jake Pavlik, my main squeeze โ
hell, my only squeeze, since my ex-hubby Ted ran off with
his dental hygienist โ looked down at me, blue eyes amused.
โYou were expecting costumes?โ
I shrugged. โI worked on GenCon when the gaming convention
was in Milwaukee and you wouldnโt believe the outfits. Every
kind of superhero imaginable. People wearing wings and not
much else.โ I sniffed. โI donโt even see a Miss Marple or
Hercule Poirot and what would that take? Tweeds and knitting
needles? Some hair wax and a fake mustache? How tough would
any of that be?โ
โMight depend on whether knitting needles or wings are
allowed on airplanes,โ Pavlik said, but he must have heard
the disappointment in my voice. โSorry, Maggy, but Mystery
101 is a crime-writersโ conference for people who want to
write mysteries, not a fan convention for readers. However,
even if it were, I doubt youโd find it resembled a gamersโ
event like GenCon.โ
The sheriff lowered his voice as the desk clerk signaled for
the next person in line. โThough if youโre game, Iโd
wouldnโt mind giving the โwings and not much elseโ idea a
whirl.โ
His breath on my neck gave me goose bumps, and I couldnโt
stifle the moan that rose in my throat just as the
dark-suited woman in front of us turned to gather up her
wheelie. She glanced at Pavlik and me and then skyward, as
if to say, get a room.
Which, in fact, weโd do posthaste just as soon as she moved
her butt toward the registration desk.
While Pavlik had been engaged to speak at the writers'
conference, the whole idea of my tagging along was for us to
spend some time together away from the impending winter
snows and the demands of both his job and mine. Yeah, I
know โ county sheriff and coffeehouse owner might seem miles
apart stress-wise, but youโd be surprised.
I twisted around and tangled my fingers in Pavlikโs thick
dark hair. โWhat happens in Fort Lauderdale, stays in Fort
Lauderdale,โ I murmured before bringing his lips down to
meet mine.
© 2003-2026