Page 57 of Dead Girl Running

“Would it be possible to summon Mr. Gilfilen back from vacation? I’m ill equipped to lead the security team at any time, much less while I’m managing the resort.”

A pause. “Mr. Gilfilen can’t return. It’s not possible.”

She voiced her vague suspicion. “Look, if he’s somewhere close, could I contact him?”

“No! God, no.”

So hewassomewhere close. “Leo, really. This is an emergency.”

Leo said, “Perhaps… Well, let me think. Other security personnel work for the Di Lucas. Let me see if I can find someone to send.” Another short pause. “Annie’s calling me. We’ll get in touch with you tomorrow.” He hung up.

Kellen looked at the phone, then placed it in its cradle. If she looked, she could probably find Mr. Gilfilen. He might be somewhere on the grounds, or maybe enjoying the great Washington coast…although that seemed out of character. But what good would tracking him down do? She knew Mr. Gilfilen well enough to know he would do what he would do, and nothing could alter his course.

Hell, maybe he was the Librarian.

The events of the previous day and night had acquired a stained veneer of disbelief and distrust. She looked at everyone—employees, guests, workmen—and wondered who they were beneath their everyday masks.

Her watch alarm vibrated on her wrist. She looked at her scheduler.

Time to pick up the appetizers for the Shivering Sherlocks event and do a little sleuthing of her own.

* * *

Max Di Luca walked down the hospital corridor toward Annie’s room. Today the news was good; she had survived the night and rallied. At breakfast, the whole Di Luca family had at last begun their late Christmas celebration with scrambled eggs and cheese, crisp bacon, fruit salad—and Aunt Sarah’s chocolate chip cookies. Now Max had been sent to remove Leo from his post at Annie’s side. Of course. Max was aggressive, decisive and a former football running back, hence when a possible challenge loomed, he was sent to take care of it. The family called him the Di Luca enforcer. They were joking. Mostly.

But as he approached Annie’s room, he saw Leo sitting in a plastic chair, elbows on his knees, hands over his face.

Max’s heart squeezed in fear. He rushed to Leo and knelt beside him. “Leo? What’s wrong? Is Annie…?”

Leo lifted his head. He looked worn to the bone and hopeless. “Annie’s better. She really is.”

Max sat back on his heels. “Then what’s wrong?”

“As soon as we left the resort, everything there went to hell in a handbasket.”

Max stood up, pulled a chair close and asked sympathetically, “Another incompetent assistant manager?”

“No, she’s great. Efficient, intelligent, wants nothing more than to work all the time. She’s taken a huge load off Annie’s shoulders and mine.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Leo looked grimly at Max. “Yesterday they found thefirstassistant manager.”

Max leaped to the inevitable conclusion. “Dead?”

“Murdered. Kel… The assistant manager called and told me last night, but last night I didn’t care. Today I care. Priscilla, that poor, stupid girl, dead. At our resort. Who would do such a thing?”

Max asked the next logical question. “What does Mr. Gilfilen say?”

“He’s sort of on vacation.”

“Sort of? While you’re gone?” Had Leo and Annie gone senile?

“We’re having security problems at the resort.”

Nope, obviously not senile. “Murder and…?”

“Smuggling.” Leo filled Max in on the details of what Mr. Gilfilen suspected.

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