More Bitter Than Death: An Emma Fielding Mystery - By Dana Cameron Page 0,76

did for the field. It’s what he did to me, personally, that is why I don’t like him. Just personal stuff, even if I happen to think his reputation was overblown.”

“Straight party line, just like your grandfather.”

“Tell me again what this has got to do with Oscar?”

“Everyone knows that Oscar was always badmouthing Garrison. That he was jealous of him, and whenever Garrison tried to do his job, Oscar took it personally. Not very professional, if you ask me.”

“You can say whatever you like, Noreen, but it all sounds like sour grapes to me.” Suddenly I was tired. I stepped out onto the floor. “You might try working for something, rather than running your mouth off and complaining all the time. It will make a nice change for the rest of us.”

“Don’t even bother, Emma. You make me—”

And the doors slid shut before she could finish telling me again how sick I made her.

“Whatever,” I muttered, and gave the English two-fingered salute to the closed elevator doors. Two fingers always seemed to have so much more violence than that one, solitary finger.

I found my way back to my room without incident; the incidents started when I had the door safely locked behind me. I picked up a folded piece of paper I found shoved under my door at the same time I saw the red message light flashing on the phone on the desk. I flipped the sheet open as I crossed to the desk. “You were warned. If you’re not worried about yourself, then think about the kids.”

I didn’t do anything, I thought wildly. I didn’t talk to the cops, I didn’t do anything! What does this person mean?

I stared at the paper a moment longer, then dialed in to the answering service. It was Meg’s worried voice I heard. “It’s me. When we got back to our room from dinner, the door was open. I don’t know how it happened, but someone got in and tore our stuff apart. Jordan’s pissed, Katie’s in hysterics, but other than that, no one was hurt.”

There was a pause before she continued. “There was a message on the mirror, written in lipstick. It said, “Ask Emma.” Emma, what’s going on here?”

Chapter 11

THERE WAS SO MUCH THAT I REGRETTED IN MY LIFE that sometimes it felt like I was choking. And this weekend was the catalyst for bringing those regrets all to the surface, not even counting whatever I was getting myself into at the moment.

The students’ room was a mess, but while some toiletries had been spilt and scattered about—mascaras stepped on, lipstick on the mirror, shampoo dumped out and all—very little else was damaged. Whoever had done it, the police said, had been in too much of a hurry to really do any damage.

Any damage was too much, I thought, but at the same time, I couldn’t figure out what it was I was supposed to have done that would bring the note-writer’s wrath down on the students’ heads. If I didn’t know what the rules were, how could I obey them, even if I wanted to?

I handed the note from my room to the uniformed officer who was there. He looked at me, surprised, when he saw that it was in a plastic bag. “Artifact bag,” I said. “I had a bunch of them in my briefcase. I didn’t touch it too much, if you want to check for prints.”

“This doesn’t seem to be the same as the other break-ins,” he said. “Nothing was taken, you say?”

“We don’t have anything worth taking,” Meg said. “No, not as far as we can tell. What other break-ins?”

“There’ve been a few thefts, from other guests’ rooms,” he said. “But it was nothing like this. Just what you seem to get with any big convention.”

After explaining to the officer about the last note, and that I didn’t have the faintest idea of what I’d done, we sorted the students out. There were no other rooms for them, but apparently it didn’t matter: Hedia was leaving. The roads were nominally cleared now, and she wasn’t willing to stay any longer.

“Nothing personal, Dr. Fielding, but there’s no way I’m sticking around here.”

“I don’t blame you a bit,” I said. “I’m sorry this happened, and as soon as I know why, I’ll let you know.”

Neither Katie, Dian, nor Meg took me up on my offer to share my room. I decided that Meg was happier squeezing in with her fiancé, and that Dian was always happier when