Murder Follows Money Read Free Page B

driver helped Don stow luggage, hindered by Naomi’s demands to keep one piece with her. Don sat up front, and Kim and I crawled into the middle seat in back, facing Hannah and Naomi.
    The limo was incredibly plush, the fanciest car by far that I had ever been in, including my sister’s lavishly appointed sport utility vehicle. The driver pulled away, and we four women sat silently, staring at each other.
    I cleared my throat, breaking the silence. “What’s your favorite thing about San Francisco, Ms. Couch?” This inane remark popped out, and was left unanswered for a minute. I could feel those cold eyes on me.
    “What is your name again?” Her voice, clear and mellifluous, gave the lie to that salt-and-pepper hair. I wondered why she didn’t dye it.
    “Liz Sullivan.”
    “Have you acted as an escort before?”
    “My first time.” I couldn’t help myself. I smiled at her as we pulled onto the highway. “Please be gentle.”
    She was taken aback. “Well, Ms. Sullivan,” she said finally, “do you know what to do? As my media escort, you should be telling me something about the places I’m scheduled to be.”
    “Right.” I swung my knapsack around and got out the first of several file folders Judi Kershay had pressed on me. “We should be at the hotel in another half hour, barring bad traffic,” I began in my most official voice. “By the way, we’re now driving past San Bruno Mountain, home of the rare blue checkerspot butterfly.”
    Kim pressed her nose against the glass, as if the butterfly was hanging around the freeway waiting to show its stuff. Naomi looked bored. Hannah stared at me stolidly.
    “At the hotel, you’ll have an hour or so to freshen up. Then the San Francisco Chronicle food and entertainment editor is coming to interview you, about three P.M.”
    “Is that Randy Nevis?” Now the disapproval in her voice was marked. She turned to Naomi. “I thought I made it clear I wouldn’t talk to him again.”
    “Just this once,” Naomi said soothingly. “There’s really no way to get out of talking to the Chronicle. It’s the major newspaper in this area.”
    “Actually,” I said, clearing my throat, “The San Jose Mercury News is considered to outclass the Chronicle , at least by the Silicon Valley types.”
    Hannah looked at Naomi, triumphant. “See?” She turned to me. “When am I speaking with the Mercury News ?”
    “I don’t know that you are.” I shuffled frantically through the papers I held. “Perhaps they didn’t ask for an interview, or your publicist didn’t let them know you’d be in the area."
    “Or they just don’t have the readership to matter,” Naomi sniffed. Her look at me could have cut through steel.
    “Set it up,” Hannah ordered. She didn’t look at Naomi or me, and I was at a loss to know who was supposed to follow this command. Naomi sat back in her seat, two spots of color burning on her cheeks, her lips pressed together. The look she darted to Hannah was anything but worshipful; I could have sworn there was real enmity in it.
    Her voice held a challenge when she spoke. “Will the Chronicle bring a photographer? If so, an hour isn’t long enough. You’ll have to put them off.”
    The first major fly in my oatmeal. Hastily I consulted the sheaf of papers Judi Kershay had given me. “It looks like their photographer is going to meet you later, at the demonstration you’ll do for Live at Five , the talk show on Channel Six. The Chronicle wants action shots.”
    Naomi considered this narrowly before nodding. I breathed a sigh of relief.
    I cleared my throat and went on. “ Live at Five is a news-magazine format. You won’t go on until five-fifteen or so, but leaving for the studio at four gives you time for makeup and to get the demonstration area set up."
    “Is there anything else this evening?” Hannah pressed her fingers against her eyes. “I was hoping for an early night.”
    I glanced at the schedule again. “Says here you’ll