Don't Go Home by Carolyn Hart Page B

particular Wednesday morning prompted Annie to withdraw? Or had that thought already occurred to him? The best defense . . . “I kept dithering.” Her tone was self-critical. “I didn’t like the article. The idea of tying particular characters to actual people here on the island was revolting. But I was in the middle of arranging the program and I’d promised. But the more I thought about it, the worse I felt. I didn’t want Death on Demand connected to that kind of spectacle. So I had a bright idea. I decided I’d talk to him, ask him to change the tenor of the evening, focus on talking about writing. But when I spoke to him Wednesday morning”—and she was being accurate, changing the focus to her morning encounter with Alex, though a taunting imp in her mind chanted,
Sophism, sophism
—“I told him I didn’t know what he intended to do but I wasn’t going to be a party to it.” She turned both hands palms up. “I walked out, went upstairs, told Rita that Death on Demand was out.”
    â€œDid you discuss the
Gazette
article with him?”
    â€œI told him I’d read it.” Oh happy day, she was going to succeed in skirting past the dangerous moments of her talk with Alex Griffith, the dangerous moments for Marian. “I told him I don’t like bullies.”
    â€œDid he identify anyone he intended to discuss?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat was his demeanor?”
    â€œPleased with himself. Impervious.”
    â€œDo you know if he had spoken with anyone else about the article?”
    â€œI have no idea if he discussed the article with anyone.” Again the choice of words saved her. “I told him what I had to say and I left. I didn’t wait for him to answer.”
    Billy’s gaze narrowed. “Yet you came to the inn even though you weren’t going to participate.”
    â€œI wanted people to know that Death on Demand wasn’t involved. I hadn’t quite decided what to do. I thought maybe I’d go up onstage just before he started and announce that Death on Demand had withdrawn from the program.”
    Billy’s blue eyes never left her face. “You showed up at the inn last night after someone broke in to the Griffith suite.”
    Annie felt tension ease from her body, hoped Billy’s watchful gaze didn’t pick up on her relief. She was happy to talk about anything but the moments she’d spent near the Griffith patio. “I was on our porch. I heard the sirens. I knew Rae Griffith was invited to the Turner house but I worried that she might still be by herself at the inn.”
    Billy’s gaze was searching. “A couple of weeks ago you set out to prove a suicide was murder. You got the proof but a killer almost got you. Max told me you’d promised to stay out of other people’s troubles. But last night you showed up at the inn.”
    â€œNot at all the same thing. Last night I was worried about Rae Griffith being alone. Obviously she’s decided to stay at the inn no matter what happens, but she’ll be all right. If there was anything inhis papers, the briefcase is gone now. The word will get out. She doesn’t need my help. I’m not involved.”
    â€œGood to know.” His voice was mild. “Max will be proud of you.”
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    H yla Harrison ignored the glare of the midmorning sun. She felt a trickle of sweat down her back and legs. Summer on a sea island. The thought was fleeting, dismissed. It didn’t matter if it was hot or if rare sleet whistled, she would keep after a trail until she reached the end or the trail disappeared. When she was back in the office, she’d make some calls, find out more about the widow. She was always suspicious of family members. Most crimes were committed, as she’d told the clerk, by someone who knew the victim. There was no doubt in Hyla’s mind