Murder Goes On Tour

Chapter 4

FOUR

They huddled in a booth in the hotel bar at the Hyatt Regency and when the barmaid came up to the table Joanna ordered two vodka martinis.

Then, after the barmaid moved away, she turned to Vivian and said, “I suppose I should have asked you what you wanted.”

Vivian smiled. “It’s okay, I like vodka martinis.”

“I must have known,” Joanna said, in a low, husky voice that made Vivian feel as if she was being seduced.

“Are you wondering why I asked you out for a drink?”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Vivian said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Why me, you know?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, I guess not.”

“I wanted to, that’s all. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Sometimes it’s best that way,” Joanna said.

Their eyes met. Vivian could feel the heat rush into her face as Joanna held her gaze. Then the barmaid returned with their martinis and set them on the table.

Vivian raised her glass in a toast. “Here’s to your book. I hope it’s a big hit.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Joanna said as they clinked glasses.

“I saw it on The New York Times list, so I guess it's already a hit,” Vivian said.

Joanna gave a rueful smile. A shadow crossed her face. “Let’s hope it stays there.” She took another sip and looked at Vivian. “So how’d you like the reading?”

“I thought it was great. I mean, I loved the book…and seeing you read really brought it to life.”

“You like to go to readings?”

“Yeah, I do. Hearing an author read, hearing their voices – hearing your voice tonight – it brings a book to life for me. It’s not just words on a page. I get to see the person who wrote those words…”

But Joanna wasn’t listening. She had turned away from Vivian and was staring at someone. Vivian followed her line of sight and saw a woman sitting at the bar. She was in her late 30s, Vivian guessed, blonde and overweight. She was drinking alone and looking across the room at Joanna. There was a book on the bar in front of her.

“Something wrong?” Vivian said.

But Joanna didn’t answer her. Vivian watched as the woman finished her drink and ordered another round. But instead of taking a sip, she slid off the barstool and brought the drink and the book over to the table. Vivian noticed that she was carrying a copy of The Murder Tour.

“Well, we meet again, Ms. Rorke,” the woman said.

Joanna said nothing. Her face was a mask.

“I didn’t get a chance to have you sign my copy of the book,” she said, thrusting the book toward Joanna. “Would you mind?”

She spoke with a southern accent. Vivian realized she was the woman at the reading who had asked Joanna about the unpublished manuscript.

“Not at all,” Joanna said with a tense smile. She reached in her purse for a pen, then signed the book and handed it back to the woman.

“I sure hope you don’t mind that I asked you about Tourist Trap,” the woman said. “But you know why I did, don’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joanna said.

The woman gave a knowing smile. “Well, I mean it had to be a coincidence, don’t you think? What else could it be if it wasn’t a coincidence?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you’d better leave,” Joanna said.

“Yes, I suppose I should,” the woman said. She threw a glance at Vivian. “You two look so cozy together. But before I go I did want to apologize if I caused you any embarrassment at the reading—”

“You didn’t,” Joanna said.

“I also wanted to offer my congratulations on The Murder Tour. You must be very pleased. I’m sure you’ll sell a lot of books.” The woman raised the glass in a toast. So…congratulations.”

She threw the drink in Joanna’s face.

Joanna gasped in shock as the liquor drenched her. Vivian froze, stunned into silence. Others in the bar looked over at Joanna. The bartender rushed over to the table. He grabbed the woman and pushed her toward the exit. “Get out of here! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Leaving,” the woman said as she shook him off, “that’s what I’m doing.”

The barmaid came up to the table with towels and handed them to Joanna, who began drying herself.

“I’m very sorry,” the bartender said, “this is so embarrassing. Do you want me to call the police? We can have security detain her if you like.”

Joanna shook her head. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Can I offer you another round…on the house?”

Joanna glanced at Vivian. “Have it brought up to my suite.”

“Yes, of course,” the bartender said, “right away.”

Joanna towel-dried her hair in the elevator.

“You don’t mind coming up with me, do you? I don’t feel like being alone right now.”

“Sure, no problem,” Vivian said.

The evening had begun with a book reading. Then a woman threw a drink in Joanna’s face. Now they were going up to her suite. Everything kept becoming something else and Vivian had no idea what was going to happen next.

“Who was that woman?” she said.

“I don’t know, some jealous failure who blames me because she couldn’t get published.”

“She was the woman from the reading…”

Joanna nodded.

“She acted like she knew you.”

Joanna shrugged. “I have no idea who she was. But that’s what happens when you get famous. Somebody’s always out to get you. I’m just sorry we were interrupted.”

But it seemed to Vivian as if this was something more than just a random attack by a disgruntled author. It seemed as if the woman knew Joanna. You don’t throw a drink in someone’s face for no reason. But what was the reason? She’ll never tell you, Vivian told herself, so don’t ask. Anyway, it’s none of your business. But the question lingered in Vivian’s mind as the elevator doors opened on the top floor and they walked down the hall to Joanna’s suite.

The door opened and Vivian walked into a luxury suite that was more than twice the size of her studio apartment. Joanna kicked off her heels and tossed the towel on a chair. Vivian walked over to the window and looked out at the lights of the city. The view took her breath away. It was as if all of San Francisco lay before her.

Joanna came up behind her. “You like the view?” Joanna said.

Vivian nodded. “I love it. I’ve never seen the city like this.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Joanna said. Then she pushed her hair up above the nape of her neck and said, “Unzip me, will you? I’m soaking wet.”