More Bitter Than Death: An Emma Fielding Mystery - By Dana Cameron Page 0,108
makes it tough if you are the most interesting person there.”
I made a snooty face at her, and she shrugged. “I’m getting too old for posturing, Emma. I can’t be bothered and it wastes my time. I fix up my room the way I like because I see no harm in traveling comfortably.”
She mixed up her drink, and as she did so, she said, “Those cuts on your hand and face look nasty. You clean them up good?”
“Yep.”
“You should be caught up on your tetanus shots anyway, working in the field like you do.”
“Yes, Mother.”
She sat back on the bed with her drink, no trace of anger on her face. “You can be pissy if you want, Em, be my guest. But the sooner you get used to me helping you, the better company you’ll be for me too.”
“Sorry. I’m just fed up. Everyone is strange, what with the thing with Garrison and everything.”
“Everyone is strange.” It could have been agreement on a question.
“Either they’re exactly the same as they’ve always been or they’re totally different. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m irritated with everyone.”
“Your own experiences are probably coloring that.”
“Whatever. The thing with Garrison, I don’t know. I’m worried. I’m worried about who might have been out there today. Shooting at me.” I explained the day’s events to her; she took it all in without a word.
Laurel looked thoughtful. “Huh. Who didn’t you see, when you came into the banquet?”
“I didn’t see Sue. I didn’t see Brad. I didn’t see Scott. I didn’t see you, at first.”
“And yet here you are, telling me all about it.” Laurel was looking out the window now, her face momentarily obscured by her glass. “Why is that?”
“Uh.” I thought about it. “You were in dry clothes; your face wasn’t red or anything, from exertion and cold. And people would have missed you, if you hadn’t been at the center of the party.”
“Interesting.” She set her glass down. “The thing you need to worry about now, Emma, telling the wrong things to the wrong people. I don’t know if you realize that you won’t necessarily be able to speak to people the same way again, if indeed, they’ll feel comfortable with you at all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I say. People might find your choices ghoulish. They might decide that they trust you as a friend, but as a cop—”
I shook my head violently. “I’m not going to be a cop. Far from it—”
“They’ll see you as right next door and they might decide that they have things they don’t want that close to the law. Or they might just think you’ve flipped your wig.” She picked up her glass, sipped her drink, and made an approving face.
“It’s not as bad as that.”
“People don’t like change. You’re leaving the fold—in their eyes, even if not in fact—you’re throwing their decisions to stay in their faces. You’ve got the brass ring, what with tenure and all, and you seem to be saying it’s not enough. It’s not appreciated.”
“It has nothing to do with anyone else.”
“And yet, see how you bridled when I told you I didn’t bother with conferences that didn’t interest me. Same thing.”
“Laurel?”
“Yes, Emma?”
“I’d like that drink now, if you don’t mind.”
Chapter 15
AN HOUR LATER, I WAS DRAGGING MYSELF TO MY room, worn to a frazzle. The hallway was deserted, and as I fit my key into the door, I felt as though I couldn’t get into bed fast enough. The thought that the cops were still bustling down in the lobby made me very happy indeed. The knob turned readily enough, and I stepped just inside, stooping to pick up the fallen room-service request. Then I felt a tremendous blow on my back, and it sent me sprawling forward.
As I hit the floor, the light from the hallway went out. The door to my room swung shut on its security hinge, and I was engulfed in darkness.
I wasn’t alone. I could hear heavy breathing behind me, and I shook off my denial that I’d been attacked: No, it wasn’t an accident, no, I wasn’t dreaming, no, it wasn’t Nolan at the gym. I’d been attacked, and whoever it was had followed me into my room. This was for real, and if I didn’t move fast…
I rolled over as soon as I hit the carpet, bringing my foot up to kick whatever got near me. My head was right at the foot of the bed, so I’d have to shift before