The Unkindest Cut - By Honor Hartman Page 0,39

the transfer,’’ Bart said. ‘‘We can go into the more complex issues if we need to. Does that sound okay?’’

‘‘That’s fine,’’ Sophie said. She examined her hand, then giggled. ‘‘One no-trump.’’

Bob grinned before responding, ‘‘No bid.’’

Bart surveyed his hand. ‘‘Two hearts.’’

I passed.

Sophie bid two spades, Bob passed again, and Bart said, ‘‘Three no-trump.’’

‘‘No bid,’’ I said.

‘‘Four spades,’’ Sophie declared.

After three passes, Sophie noted the bid on the scorepad.

As Bob was deciding on the first lead, he said, ‘‘Have y’all noticed there’s something strange going on in the hotel this morning? We’ve seen some people in cop uniforms coming and going.’’

Sophie and I exchanged glances.

‘‘Yes,’’ I said. ‘‘We’ve noticed, too.’’

‘‘I suppose we’ll find out eventually,’’ Bart said. ‘‘We asked at the front desk, but the girl there—I think her name is Monica—just looked scared and said she couldn’t talk about it. It’s all very mysterious.’’

‘‘Yes, it is,’’ Sophie agreed. She and I exchanged covert glances. I knew we both would have liked to tell Bob and Bart what was going on, but we had told Deputy Ainsworth we wouldn’t talk about the murder.

Bob played the queen of hearts, and Bart put down the dummy hand.

‘‘It’s too bad about our private lesson,’’ Bart said. ‘‘Bob and I were really looking forward to it. I’m sure you were, too, Emma. Avery Trowbridge is such a well-known teacher.’’

‘‘Maybe he’ll reschedule,’’ Bob said.

Sophie and I were careful not to look at each other this time. I noticed something odd about the men’s remarks. They didn’t know Avery Trowbridge was dead, but who had let them know the lesson was canceled? Perhaps someone from the sheriff’s department had called them. I had to know for sure, though.

‘‘How did you find out the lesson was canceled?’’ I said, trying to keep my tone nonchalant.

‘‘A woman called us this morning,’’ Bart said. He frowned. ‘‘At least I think it was a woman. It was early, and the voice was a bit odd, now that I think about it. Didn’t you get a call, too?’’ He played the king of hearts, and Sophie played the ace on it. I played the two.

‘‘What time did she call you?’’ I asked as Sophie gathered the cards and placed them in front of her. She appeared absorbed in her cards, but I knew she was waiting for the answer to my question as impatiently as I was.

‘‘It was actually pretty early,’’ Bob replied. ‘‘A bit too early, if you ask me.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘It’s a good thing Bart and I are so used to getting up at the crack of dawn—otherwise we would have been pretty annoyed.’’

‘‘How early is pretty early?’’

Bart frowned. ‘‘It was about seven thirty, wasn’t it?’’

Chapter 14

‘‘Seven thirty-three, actually,’’ Bob said with a smile.

Bart shook his head. ‘‘He’s obsessed with time. He always knows exactly when something happens.’’

I stole a look at Sophie, and she was looking at me. The significance of what the two men had told us was startling. Surely it was the murderer who had called them? Or, at the very least, someone in cahoots with the killer?

Sophie focused on selecting a card to lead. When she played it, I gave it a cursory look as I decided what to pull from my own hand. I ought to be concentrating on the game we were playing, but I was still trying to sort out the implications of that phone call.

Then another thought struck me. No one had called me to cancel the lesson.

At least, I didn’t think anyone had. I’d have to check the phones in our suite to see if someone had left a message. I was willing to bet, though, no one had called.

The question was, why? Did the killer not know I was scheduled for a lesson along with Bart and Bob? That didn’t make any sense, though. If the killer knew they were scheduled, he or she would also have known I was scheduled. My name and room number were on the list, along with those of Bob and Bart.

Suddenly I went completely cold.

The killer wanted me to find the body.

That was the only explanation I could come up with—unless whoever killed Avery had simply made a mistake. I wasn’t sure I believed that, though. If someone had planned this murder, had part of that plan included me finding the body?

Maybe the killer simply wanted Marylou, Sophie, or me—or maybe the three of us together—to find the body. Or was I putting too much significance into this?

‘‘Emma, it’s your turn