Page 71 of Dead Girl Running

Kellen put down her chocolate and did as she was told. When Birdie got that look on her face, it was best to do as she said. When Kellen got back, she sat on the floor and sipped her chocolate. “Are you close to done?”

“I’m into the 1980s. If this is to be believed—” Birdie lifted one leather-bound manual “—someone here at the resort owned a 1981 Lamborghini Countach.”

“Some impressive vehicles at this resort. You’re saving that?” Kellen reached for it.

Birdie put it on her own desk. “You bet. What’s up?”

“Can’t I come by just for fun?”

“You can. And you do. But your shoulders are hunched and you’ve got that pinched-mouth expression.”

Kellen straightened her shoulders. “It’s cold. We’ve got a whopper of a storm coming in tomorrow morning. The staff is spooked.”

Birdie tossed another manual on the discard pile. “There’s more stuff going on than you can talk about.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You don’t douncertainvery often.”

“In the war zones, the best I could hope for was that no one got killed and mutilated. Since I’ve been at the resort, I haven’t had to worry about that.”

“Until now.” Birdie picked up a little mimeographed booklet and flapped it at Kellen. “It’s the Cape Charade newspaper. Want to know what happened the week of July 17, 1984?”

“Nothing?”

Birdie looked it over. “Pretty much.” She threw it on the discard pile, too.

Kellen glanced around. “Where are the guys?”

Birdie opened her mouth as if to answer, then closed it.

Interesting. “You don’t do uncertain very often, either.”

“What I know—Mitch is on a date with the girl from the concierge desk, and lately I don’t like the way he talks about women. As if they’re a commodity.”

“Civilian life hasn’t improved him.” The two women contemplated that truth, then Kellen asked, “What about Temo? I saw him in the kitchen. He was weird. I wondered if he was having a party without me. But he wouldn’t have one without you, too.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Birdie shifted papers as if she needed to keep her hands busy. “Temo got back from LA, and he and Adrian have been sneaking around, whispering in corners. I wondered if discovering that corpse had disturbed Temo. He’s Hispanic and there’s that Day of the Dead thing…”

“It’s not that much different than Memorial Day,” Kellen pointed out. “They visit the graves, remember their dearly departed…”

“Are you kidding? Have you seen how they decorate the skull cakes?” Birdie shuddered. “I wouldn’t eat one of those things!”

“Sounds like Temo isn’t the only superstitious one.” Kellen thought of that pale face floating outside the window, and a quick, sharp shudder ran up her spine. “Did he tell you what happened in California?”

“A little. He was terse. I think with his mother in prison, he has to support his sister and you know how much it costs to live in California.”

“So…money problems?”

“Maybe. But what’s that got to do with Adrian? Why are they teaming up? Why are they avoiding me? And you.”

Temo would do anything for his little sister. He needed money to support her. Maybe he could bring her to Yearning Sands. But if Adrian was the Librarian’s assistant—he wasn’t smart, but he was good with heavy lifting—and if he had brought Temo into the operation, they’d have one smart guy who could fix anything. All of the logic worked. That didn’t mean it was true.

Birdie said, “We have so much work to do to get the resort and the vehicles ready for spring, and the guys are just…not here for me.”

“I’ll speak to them.”

“No. No. I think maybe it’s me.”

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