A Romantic Way to Die by Bill Crider Page B

talking about Henrietta’s book, even when Serena remained calm. She was even the one who’d struck the first blow. But she still seemed to believe that Serena was at fault.
    Then Rhodes remembered what Vernell had told him about writers. They were always looking for someone to blame. Maybe that wasn’t true, Rhodes thought. Maybe it was only Vernell who was like that.
    “All right,” he told her. “Thanks for your help. You can go on back to the dormitory now.”
    “What about Serena?”
    “I’m going to talk to her, get her version of the story.”
    “What good will that do? She’ll probably lie to you.”
    “I’ll just have to take that chance,” Rhodes said.
    He waited until Vernell had left, then went back to the kitchen. Chatterton and Serena were sitting at the table, drinking something in tall green iced-tea glasses.
    “Diet Dr Pepper,” Chatterton said, holding up his glass. “Can I get you one?”
    Rhodes repressed a shudder. It didn’t matter how hard the advertisers worked to convince people that Diet Dr Pepper tasted just like the real thing. He knew better.
    “No, thanks,” he said. “Would you mind going into the living room? I’ll just talk to Ms. Thayer in here.”
    Chatterton left, taking his Diet Dr Pepper with him, and Rhodes sat at the table. Serena took a sip of her drink and looked at him over the rim of the glass.
    “Why the formality?” she said. “You can call me Serena.”
    Her eyes seemed even bluer than Rhodes had remembered. Rhodes supposed she hadn’t had to work too hard to seduce Terry Don, if indeed he’d needed seducing, which seemed doubtful.
    “In a murder investigation, you need a little formality,” Rhodes said.
    Serena smiled and pouted at the same time.
    “Well, if that’s the way you want it,” she said. “What did Ms. Lindsey tell you about the fight?”
    “I think I’d like to get your story before we discuss hers,” Rhodes said.
    “That’s easy enough. Do you want the short version or the long one?”
    “Try the short one.”
    “Okay. Vernell called me a slut and slapped me in the face. So I slapped her back. That made her crazy, and she tried to punch me. After that, I’m a little vague on the specifics.”
    It was short, all right, but it corresponded pretty well to what Vernell had said, except now it was Vernell doing the name-calling. And except for what had been left out.
    “You forgot to mention that she accused you of murder,” Rhodes said.
    Serena smiled. “I knew she’d tell you that. She said I was jealous. But let me ask you a question, Sheriff. Do I look like a woman who’d be jealous of someone like Henrietta?”
    She gave him a dazzling smile and widened those big blue eyes.
    Rhodes smiled back, probably a lot less dazzlingly. His eyes weren’t blue, either, so the effect was totally different.
    He said, “No, you don’t. But then you don’t look like a woman who’d go crazy if a hotel maid left the chocolate off her pillow, either.”
    Serena slammed her glass down on the table and stood up, her body rigid.
    “That’s a lie! You read that in that manuscript, didn’t you!”
    “Yes,” Rhodes said. “Did you?”
    Serena’s face fell, and she sat limply back down.
    “You tricked me,” she said.
    Rhodes resisted the urge to say it had been easy.
    “When did you read it?” he asked.
    “I don’t remember. Terry Don showed it to me.”
    “Terry Don had a copy?”
    “Of course. You may not know it, but Henrietta still loved him. She started writing him when he became famous. He told me all about her, the woman who’d never gotten over her high-school crush. When she sent him the manuscript, he let me read it.”
    “What did he think about it?”
    “He thought it was funny.”
    “He didn’t come off too well in it,” Rhodes said.
    “Why? Because he was supposedly sleeping with all those writers and agents? There were already stories going around about that, and they just enhanced his reputation. Probably