Red Hot Murder: An Angie Amalfi Mystery Read Free

from weddings to glance at the basic American menu. She ordered a turkey-and-Swiss wrap. Paavo asked for a chiliburger.
    The food came quickly, and they devoured it with equal speed. A few customers came and went, but none were Ned Paulson.
    Paavo called Ned’s business number, which went to messaging, as did Ned’s cell phone.
    “How about some dessert?” the waitress asked. Angie noticed a slight frown and could feel her scrutinizing her clothes and hair. Considering the waitress’s bad peroxide job, she should have been asking for some pointers instead.
    “No thanks,” she said, returning the perusal. “We’ll be leaving soon.”
    “Passing through, are you?” The woman’s gaze narrowed as it leaped from one to the other.
    “We’re staying at the Ghost Hollow Guest Ranch,” Angie replied.
    “Is that so?” The waitress’s brows lifted, but she quickly composed her face. “It’s a nice place. Not too many guests out there lately, of course….”
    “Oh?” Angie said, waiting.
    “My name’s LaVerne Merritt, by the way,” the waitress said. “I’ve owned this café so long that I can remember back when the Ghost Hollow Guest Ranch was Hal Edwards’s home.”
    Angie glanced at Paavo and couldn’t help but smile—Hal Edwards’s death had been the reason for Doc’s concern. Paavo had often told her that inhis investigations, the best way to learn anything was to let others do the explaining. “His home?” she asked.
    “I thought everybody knew that.” LaVerne’s mouth shifted sideways and pursed as she considered her customer’s woeful lack of knowledge. “Hal Edwards was once the richest man in the whole state. Owned all the supermarkets from Yuma to Flagstaff. Halmart stores were the Wal-Mart of Arizona—and every bit as profitable. In fact, Hal always said Wal-Mart got their name from Halmart. His home was beautiful. Everybody in town still calls it the hacienda. You’ll know why when you see it. Things have changed a bit since those days.” She frowned. “And now it’s all going to go to his son, Joey.”
    “The resort was a hacienda?” Angie asked, feeling her excitement growing about seeing the home of a man who’d once been the Sam Walton of Arizona. No wonder Doc thought there could have been something odd about his death. Excessive money and mysterious death—how often had she seen that combination since she began dating Paavo?
    “You didn’t know about that either?” LaVerne sounded surprised. “Just why did you come here?”
    Paavo jumped in. “We’re here to fish at the lake. Our contact at the boat and equipment rental suggested we stay at Ghost Hollow. He planned to meet us here, but apparently, he isn’t going to make it.”
    “Sounds like Ned Paulson,” LaVerne said. “Ifyou want, I can phone and see what’s keeping him.”
    “No need,” Paavo said. “I’ve used my cell phone. He’s not answering.”
    “Oh. A cell phone.” LaVerne’s lips pressed together. “Those cell phones don’t always work around here, you know. And, sometimes, folks might be somewhere besides home or work. I’m usually pretty good at tracking people down. Just trying to be helpful. How about some pie while you wait? We’ve got berry, rhubarb, and peach. Homemade and fresh.”
    Both declined. “We’ll just finish our coffee,” Angie said.
    LaVerne shifted from one foot to the other. Her one eyelid sagged halfway over her eye as she said, “Suit yourself,” then headed back to the counter.
    They were about to leave when a woman entered. She stood in the doorway. Her eyes quickly scanned the customers and paused ever so slightly at the man at the counter. Then she spotted Angie and Paavo, and hurried over.
    She appeared to be in her early thirties, with shoulder-length black hair, olive skin, and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes. Her dress was an umber and turquoise print, and the colorful Southwestern pattern seemed strangely at odds with her troubled