Naked Once More by Elizabeth Peters Page A

fan drooling—and it removed one of the writer’s difficulties Jacqueline had dreaded, how to “get into” the book. But that wasn’t the only reason why she wanted it.
    Over the years she had been involved with several groups of eccentrics, from archaeologists to romance writers, but never had she seen a situation so replete with delicious possibilities for a student of human nature (a term she much preferred to “nosy broad”). The fact that there were two attractive men involved was irrelevant but not unpleasant—three, if you counted Tom the chef, but he was really out of bounds; too young, and married besides.
    But that wasn’t the only reason why she wanted it.
    “ ‘Smile the while I kiss you sad adieu,’ ” Jacqueline sang. “ ‘When the clouds roll by, I’ll come to you.…’ ” The underground rumble of accompaniment came, she realized, from her stomach. She was starved. A combination of distracting circumstances had prevented her from eating much of the meal. “ ‘… Till we meet again,’ ” Jacqueline crooned, and turned into the driveway of a fast-food restaurant.
    Savoring a delightfully greasy hamburger and ersatz “milk” shake, she pondered her plans. She had intended to leave Pine Grove that afternoon. Perhaps it would be better to stay over, and make an early start next morning. At this time of year and in mid-week there should not be any difficulty about keeping her room for another night. The idea of another of Tom’s superb meals was an additional inducement.
    But the greatest inducement was the hope of getting her hostess aside for a cozy gossip. It was a small town, with only one local celebrity; Mollie was surely well acquainted with Kathleen’s history and that of her family. She might even be one of the people who would resent seeing Kathleen’s work turned over to a hack, as Spencer had so nicely put it. Jacqueline’s irrepressible imagination pictured a lynch mob advancing on the inn, torches flaring, hoarse voices shouting. “Hang the hack! Hand her over, the incompetent perpetrator of literary swill!”
    She grinned. Spencer had to have been joking. Or rather, since he didn’t strike her as a man with a huge sense of humor, he had been exaggerating. He cared, if no one else did. To what lengths would he go to keep someone like Brunnhilde from getting the assignment? Had he followed her, Jacqueline, to the dismal clearing where Kathleen’s lonely monument stood, or did he make his own pilgrimages to the shrine—carrying Kathleen’s favorite flowers?
    She wadded up the plastic wrappings and tossed them into a trash bin. As she drove out of the parking lot, another car—a tan Toyota—followed at a discreet distance. Jacqueline caught a glimpse of it in her rearview mirror, but paid no attention to it; her mind was busy with other, more intriguing thoughts.
    When she entered the inn, old Mrs. Swenson was still confronting the TV set. This time the booming voices belonged to an agitated soap-opera pair. “Oh, Blade, how could you get her pregnant?” screamed the heroine. “She’s your own half-sister!” “She seduced me, I tell you,” bellowed the hero.
    Mollie was at the desk, doing accounts. As Jacqueline had anticipated, there was no problem about keeping her room for another night. In fact, Mollie seemed excessively delighted. “Does that mean… I guess I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help wondering whether…”
    She had to yell to be heard over the drama in the next room. Jacqueline yelled back. “Nothing is settled yet. But it looks good.”
    “Oh, that’s wonderful!”
    “I’ll tell you all about it later,” Jacqueline shrieked. “Perhaps you’ll have a drink with me before dinner.”
    “That’s so kind of you. I can’t help being interested, you know, even though it’s none of my business.…”
    Jacqueline assured her, honestly, that she was in full sympathy with that point of view.
    As she walked to the door she saw a flutter of