Dead By Dusk by Heather Graham Page B

the little group had bonded nicely, feeding one another with ad-libs and suggestions, and they were very good. For the first time since her arrival, Stephanie thought that the enterprise could really work.
    Clay Barton had turned out to be wonderful. He could put a swagger into his voice, just as he could sound a little bit desperate, making explanations for boasts he’d made and been caught on. Stephanie was pleased to see that they made her laugh, and she knew the scenarios better than anyone else.
    â€œGreat! A great afternoon’s work,” she applauded them, closing her notebook at the end. Arturo, having taken his seat at the back of the café again, applauded.
    â€œBravo, bravo!” he called, rising and striding toward them.
    â€œThank you, Arturo. You met Clay when he came in?” Stephanie said.
    â€œBut of course!” Arturo said. He, too, looked at the newcomer with a bit of wonder. There was something very unusual about the man. Actually, with his looks and talent, Stephanie thought, it was amazing that he was here. The road to fame and fortune via Hollywood and the movies might be difficult, but this guy could probably have been raking in the bucks just doing underwear commercials.
    â€œBut no Gema?” Clay said.
    Stephanie rose before he could make suggestions or commands. “Arturo, we’re going to have to get a pass key and check her place,” she said.
    â€œ Sì, sì, ” Arturo said with a sigh. Then he looked worried. “You don’t think she is hurt? That she slipped in her shower?”
    â€œNo, no, we’re afraid she’s just flown the coop,” Doug said.
    â€œ Scusi ? I’m sorry,” Arturo said, arching a brow.
    â€œHe’s afraid she’s just walked out on us,” Stephanie explained.
    â€œWhy would she?” Arturo asked, truly baffled. He apparently loved the town, the village, the surroundings.
    â€œShe’s a different breed, Arturo, a different breed. Hey, maybe she’s just sleeping off a hell of a hangover?” Doug offered.
    â€œWell, I’ll go check on her right now,” Arturo said.
    â€œI’ll come with you,” Stephanie told him.
    â€œHey, we’ll all go,” Clay said.
    Stephanie looked at him.
    â€œWe’re a team, right?” Doug said.
    â€œIf anything did happen . . .” Drew murmured.
    â€œLet’s go, then.”
    Arturo nodded. He led the way through the side door to the café from the resort area, through the pleasant, airy, and spacious white marble lobby to the rear doors from the main building. There were a few people seated in the chairs in the center of the lobby, and they all looked up from their newspapers or conversations, watching as they walked through.
    Out back, to the right of the area where Stephanie’s cottage stood, there was a staggered row of such dwellings, but most of them smaller than Stephanie’s, some of them single-story bungalows.
    They went through the pine-tree-bordered paths and reached one of the two-storied buildings. Arturo knocked firmly, and hit the little buzzer.
    They all waited.
    Nothing.
    â€œI think we need to open it and go in,” Stephanie said.
    â€œ Yes . . . yes.”
    Arturo looked very unhappy.
    He rummaged in his pockets for his passkeys, then opened the door. He stuck his head in and called out, “Gema! Gema, are you there?”
    There was no answer.
    Stephanie stepped past him. The place was similar to her own, just smaller.
    She walked on into the living room.
    â€œI’ll look upstairs,” Suzette murmured.
    Stephanie wandered on into the little kitchenette area. She turned, aware that Clay Barton was standing in the middle of the living room or parlor area, his head slightly bowed. He stood so strangely, as if he were listening, or . . .
    As if he saw himself as some kind of psychic. As if he were trying to feel or envision what might have taken place in the room.
    He