Good at Games Read Free Page A

wallet.
    â€œBe an angel and get the next round, then.” He broke into a slow, leery smile. “Hey, you’re gorgeous, you know that?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat are you doing working for that brother of yours, when you could be working for us?”
    â€œDenzil, I like it there.”
    â€œFancy being headhunted?”
    â€œNo,” Suzy said patiently.
    â€œCome on, you know you’re crazy about me. We’d be fantastic together.”
    â€œI’m fantastic where I am, thanks.”
    Nature was by this time hammering on the windows and bellowing through a megaphone, demanding to be taken notice of.
    â€œI’m breaking my neck here,” Denzil told her—romantic or what? “Go order some drinks, there’s a good girl. I’ll be back in no time at all.”
    It was a good thing he was a real estate agent and not a prison officer, thought Suzy as she slipped out of the wine bar and hurried back down Princess Victoria Street, her high heels clacking on the cobbles like castanets.
    Please be there. Please, please still be there…
    But, of course, when she reached the bar at the Avon Gorge Hotel, he wasn’t.

Chapter 2
    The funeral of Blanche Curtis, mother of Rory, Julia, and Suzy, was arranged to take place at Canford Crematorium in Westbury-on-Trym at midday on the last Tuesday in August.
    Two days before the funeral, Jaz Dreyfuss—Suzy’s ex-husband—said, “Would you like me to come?”
    â€œCan if you want.” Suzy shrugged. “But she didn’t like you.”
    â€œOf course she didn’t like me. You’d never have married me if she had.” Jaz broke into a grin. “You always told me it was your ambition in life to run off with a man your mother would really hate.”
    Suzy was standing on a chair in the middle of her sitting room, surveying her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace and waiting for Fee to finish pinning up the hem of her dress.
    â€œPoor old Blanche, what a way to go,” said Jaz. “Wherever she is now, I bet she’s furious.”
    This was true. The same thought had occurred to Suzy. After a lifetime hooked on adventure, Blanche would surely have had her heart set on a death with more pizazz to it. More oomph. Waterskiing down the Amazon, maybe, then being ambushed and gobbled up by crocodiles. Or crashing out of the sky in a hot-air balloon and plunging into an Alpine crevasse.
    As a way of dying, either of these would have been far more Blanche’s style.
    Anything would have done, basically, so long as it was colorful and dramatic and had panache.
    Except it hadn’t happened that way at all. Instead, Blanche Curtis had succumbed peacefully, at home, to a massive coronary in her sleep. Not a crocodile or an icy abyss in sight.
    â€œThere, all done.” Fee spoke through a mouthful of pins. “Take it off carefully, and I’ll hem it for you.”
    â€œYou’re an angel.” Suzy was deeply grateful. Show her a house and she could sell it, but sewing was one of life’s mysteries. And while Blanche would definitely approve of the red velvet dress she had bought especially for the funeral, she was liable to start pounding on the lid of the coffin in outrage if Suzy turned up at the cemetery in a skirt that was an unflattering length.
    As Suzy peeled off the dress and passed it to Fee, the front door banged.
    Leaping down from her chair, Suzy looked joyfully at Jaz and yelled, “Maeve’s back!”
    Moments later, the sitting room door was flung open, and Maeve McCourt, her wet-look purple raincoat glistening with rain, appeared in the doorway. She held out her arms and declared, “My poor baby, come here!”
    Suzy was across the room in a flash, hugging Jaz’s housekeeper and being hugged in return until they were both out of breath.
    â€œLook at you, practically naked in your bra and panties,” Maeve chided. She reached