A Secondhand Murder by Lesley A. Diehl

you live now?”
    â€œ West of here.” I made it sound like it was blocks, maybe a few miles, not several counties away.
    â€œ She has a small place near Sabal Bay.” Cory might just as well have said “the city dump.”
    â€œ Never been that far west,” Randolph said. “Just to the polo matches in Port Mayaca. Ever been there? It’s about as far west as I like to go. Saw some gators on the lake there that must have reached over fifteen feet.” He filled a heavy crystal glass with liquor, dropped in an ice cube and handed me the tumbler.
    The doorbell sounded. Randolph gave Cory a confused look. “Is Marcia here?”
    â€œ No. I gave her the night off. I’ll get it.” Cory hustled from the pool area toward the front of the house.
    Randolph continued standing at the end of the lounge, rocking back and forth on his heels and toes, looking me up and down.
    â€œ How tall are you, anyway?”
    â€œ How tall are you?” I shot back.
    He tossed his head back, the wave of abundant hair barely moving, and guffawed. “That’s a good one.” Was it sprayed in place to cover a bald spot? He removed the handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his eyes. “A good one.”
    I could hear voices issuing from inside the house. Familiar voices. One was Madeleine’s. The others belonged to Alex, Frida, and Timble.
    â€œ Oh, boy. Now that everyone’s here, we can have a party.” I raised my glass in a salute to the newcomers and looked over the rim of it at Cory. “I told you the cops would be coming around soon.”
    Frida gave me a look of disgust. “I found this one,” she pointed to Madeleine, “at the corner, and this one,” Alex smiled, “was leaving by a door at the back of the house. You’re wrong, Eve. This is no party. I have a few questions I need answered.”
    So did I. I settled back into the lounge with my drink and tried to hide my look of gleeful curiosity.
    Frida walked over to the lounge, reached down and took the glass from my hand. “The two of you can leave.” She nodded her head at Madeleine and me. “Let’s see,” she consulted her notebook. “PI Montgomery, I’ll be in touch. Soon.”
    â€œ Don’t you want to tell him not to leave town?” I reluctantly rose from the chaise and shot PI Alex a sharp look. Madeleine grabbed my arm and tried to hurry me out. I was waiting for Alex.
    â€œ He knows the script.” Frida gave him one of her best police smiles—lips slightly curved upwards, no teeth, no amusement in her eyes.
    â€œ Let me walk you out.” Randolph placed his hand in the small of my back and guided me toward the door. I moved away from Randolph’s presumptuous gesture and stepped ahead of him.
    â€œ Don’t leave me here with these, these police people,” said Cory, but Randolph was already walking toward the front entrance.
    Alex pulled the door open and gestured to Madeleine and me. “Ladies.”
    Impulsively, I grabbed Alex’s arm and smiled into his face. If I couldn’t be in on Frida’s investigation of the Burnsides, I could at least grill Alex about his surprising appearance at the house. I wasn’t about to let him get away once we hit the street.
    â€œ You’ve got quite a grip,” Alex whispered in my ear. “We weren’t on such good terms when you left the restaurant this morning. Change of heart?”
    I tightened my hand around his arm—his yummy, muscular, warm, sexy arm—and felt his hand on my rear. I jumped away from him, about to slap that smug, sexy, yummy—never mind. He looked surprised at my movement, and I realized the hand on my ass wasn’t his. It was Randolph’s. The gremlin was coming on to me!
    â€œ Please come back. Soon. Anytime.” Randolph gave me a wink. “Bring your tiny friend, too.” He gave Madeleine a look of