by C. A. Larmer
Not Abigail Lilton. She didn’t just want Roxy, a ghostwriter she’d never even met, she wanted her pronto. And, assuming the answer would be yes, had already included a cheque for airfares and a detailed description of when to come, what to bring and how to get there.
“So, she’s changed her tune. It happens,” said Oliver.
“Yes, but why the hurry? And what about the line ‘before I go’? Seems a bit, I dunno, strange. Where’s she going? Exactly? Is she running away? About to cark it? I just wonder why the rush?”
“Maybe the poor old duck’s got cancer, that’s why she finally wants to break her silence. She realises her time is running out. Does it make any difference?”
Roxy snatched the letter back from him, scowling at his paw prints.
“She’s told me exactly when to come, what flights to get on, and she hasn’t even left me a phone number so she’s just assuming I’m going to show up.”
“And aren’t you? What have you got keeping you here?”
“Hmmm, let me see.” Roxy held a hand up and began counting on each finger. “Tortuous lunches with my mother, Lorraine; cheesy articles for Glossy magazine; Sex & The City re-runs all by my lonesome at home...”
“So you haven’t kissed and made up with Max yet?”
Roxy frowned and looked away. Now why did he have to bring that up?
Max Farrell was a talented local photographer and one of Roxy’s best friends. Roguishly handsome and riotiously good fun, he had more mates than he had time for but it was to Roxy that he had offered his heart. And she had trampled on it superbly, insisting they should remain ‘just friends’. You can imagine how that went down.
Roxy still regretted the way she had reacted, but she was angry, too, angry at him for placing his heart in her path. She hadn’t asked for it, and she didn’t want it, and she had told him as much. They had been such great mates, she was determined to remain that way. But of course, once trampled, the heart is not so amenable, and it was their friendship that was now suffering the consequences. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks.
“I think he’s moved in with that Sandy chick,” she said, trying to sound as though it hadn’t cut her to the core.
Oliver could see straight through her, of course, but let the subject drop. “You’re going, then? To Dormay?” he said instead.
She relaxed considerably. “Of course I’m going, it’s just so out of the blue. Excuse the pun.”
Now it was Oliver’s turn to wince. He shook his head at the writer sitting before him. Roxanne Parker was an attractive woman, early 30s, thick black hair, groovy Rayban-style specs. He liked her, had enjoyed representing her for the past decade, but, apart from commitment issues, she also had an annoying penchant for making mountains out of molehills.
“You’ve always got to think the worst, don’t you?” he said. “Your business is ghostwriting other people’s stories; she wants you to write her story, so just do it. Take the money and run. Besides, I reckon it’d be a juicy one, what with all the celebrity guests who’ve supposedly passed through. Rumour has it, royalty go there to bonk their mistresses stupid. This could be bestseller stuff, Rox. Might even end up a film deal.”
“Let’s not get too carried away.”
“Just go, have fun, do the interviews and come back. It’s that simple.”
“Fun? Moi?” Roxy bat her eyelids at him then laughed. “I’m going, I’m going already. Just wanted to pass it by you, get your perspective, that’s all.”
She reached for her oversized, brown, leather handbag and got to her feet.
“So, I guess I’ll be out of your hair for a while.”
“Great, couldn’t be happier, bugger off,” he said. “But, hey, take your mobile in case you need to call me, and leave me a contact number for the retreat. You know, in case something ‘ominous’ happens...”
He did the wiggly quotation mark thing with his fingers (a pet hate of Roxy’s if you must know).
She scoffed. “Now who’s being dramatic?”
She swept in and planted a kiss on her agent’s stubbly cheek. “Besides, what could possibly go wrong?”
If you enjoyed this excerpt, look for A Plot to Die For
from C.A. Larmer
And for a sneak peek of the third Ghostwriter Mystery, go to: Last Writes
Other books by C.A. Larmer:
The Agatha Christie Book Club
An Island Lost
