Vegas or Bust: An Aggie Underhill Mystery by Michelle Ann Hollstein, Laura Martinez

doesn’t want anything to happen to me.”  She wasn’t sure why those words flew out of her mouth, but they did.  She didn’t like Anita looking down upon her.
    Betty and Roger looked at each other.  Roger raised an eyebrow.
    “What?” Aggie asked.  “He worries about me.  What’s so hard to believe about that?”
    “Oh, my Albert worries something fierce,” Anita said.  “I don’t know if I want to tell him about Miriam disappearing.  He’d be so worried that I’d get snatched up, too.  And then he’d demand that I come home to him immediately.”  She shook her head.  “My Albert is so protective.  Sometimes , it’s really hard to live with.”
    Just then Roger snorted while trying to hide his laughter.  The snort caused him to inhale his coffee.  Coffee spurted from his mouth and nose spraying the tabletop as he went into a sudden coughing fit.  Betty jumped up from the table and began to pat his back. 

Chapter 8
    Miriam shuddered at the large burly man sitting at the table watching her.  She sat across from him and bit into a powdered donut.  Her first instinct was to refuse it, but then the combination of hunger pangs, plus the fear of the possible consequence for refusing the proffered food, told her otherwise.  The scary man had a deep purple scar running diagonally across his face.  He watched as she chewed and smoothed his shiny bald head with his hands.  He then pushed a half filled glass of room temperature tap water across the table.  Miriam picked up the glass and took a sip even though she was no longer thirsty. 
    The drapes behind the table were drawn.  Miriam tried not to stare at them while wondering what she would be able to see on the other side.  She wondered if she’d be able to tell what hotel she was in and whether or not she was still on the main strip in Las Vegas.  At first she’d thought she was, but now she wasn’t so sure.
    “Don’t get any ideas,” the man warned her having caught her quick gaze at the window. 
    Miriam looked down, avoiding eye contact and took another bite of the donut when the door flew open.  Two men entered, one tall and thin and the other short and stout.  They were arguing about something.
    “I told you!” the short one said, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black leather jacket.  “But no, you knew better!”
    The tall thin guy, who looked to be at least ten years younger than the short guy, whipped off his baseball hat and spat, “It’s not my fault.  None of it is!  You should’ve done your research.  Don’t go blaming things on me!”
    “This was supposed to be a simple collection!”
    The large man sitting across from Miriam stood up.  “Get inside and close the door, will ya?” he barked.  “Why don’t you tell the world our business?  Morons!”
    Immediately the room became quiet as the short guy closed and latched the door.  Miriam had tried to see around him before the door shut, but there was nothing to see.  She watched the tall guy nervously wring his baseball cap in his hands. 
    “Now what’s this all about?” the burly man asked.  He took a couple of steps toward the foot of the bed.
    “You tell him,” the tall thin one said to the short one.
    The short one elbowed the tall guy.  “Why me? You tell him.  It’s not my fault.  You’re the one that found out.”
    “Tell me what?  What’s whose fault?  You!” he said pointing at the short guy.  “Spill the beans!  Now!”
    The short guy glanced over at Miriam who was listening intently and then nodded in the direction of the door.  “Well, um, it’s a private matter…”
    The burly man growled.  “Fine!  Outside!”  Then he glared at the tall thin guy.  “You!  Make yourself useful and watch her!  If she screams, shoot her.”
    “Um, yeah…all right…”  The thin guy scooted past the other two and jumped when the door to the room slammed shut.
    Miriam watched as he sat on the foot of the bed