Without A Clue. Trish Jensen

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СКАЧАТЬ she said, rooting through a file drawer.

      “That my agent had no right to draw up.”

      She pulled it out, still serene as all get-out. “He told us he has the authority to sign off on anything to do with the maintenance of this house.”

      She was right, but he wasn’t willing to concede that easily. “Renting it to intruders technically is not maintenance.”

      “We’re not intruders. We paid for the privilege to use it.”

      That fact finally hit him. “Is this your first time here?”

      “Yes, it is,” she said, smiling even brighter. “And it’s perfect.”

      Matt took the lease from her hands and perused it. “You know, I could have you evicted,” he said, between clenched teeth.

      She nodded. “You go right ahead and begin eviction proceedings first thing in the morning. By my calculations we’ll have been gone at least three weeks by the time they come to toss our butts out.”

      Right again. As long as they’d signed the lease in good faith, it would probably take weeks before he could legally have them kicked to the curb. This wasn’t good. “Okay, the lease says that you pay for cleanup and any and all damages that might occur during your occupancy.”

      Her mouth popped open and she waved at the papers. “You barely glanced at that thing. How do you know that?”

      Matt shrugged. “I read fast.”

      “Wow, that’s pretty impressive.”

      He’d question her sincerity, but her smile actually did look genuinely impressed. And he knew she knew her rights, so she wasn’t trying to butter him up. Still, he felt a twinge of pride. “Here’s the deal, I’m not leaving. I’m staying to protect my investment.”

      Ms. Renshaw nodded. “You’ll have a great time. And it only costs—”

      “Don’t even try it.”

      “—not a dime for you! Have fun on us.”

      “And I, of course, will be staying in the master bedroom,” he added, trying to grab back some control over this untenable situation.

      She pursed her lips and her brow furrowed. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. The murder victim is going to be the owner of the mansion. It wouldn’t do to have him found in a guest room.”

      “Kill him off in the kitchen.”

      She shook her head, and the light from the bay window showcased every single nuance of highlight in her hair. “Owners of mansions don’t generally even know where the kitchen is.”

      He was about to argue until he realized that even he wasn’t exactly sure where the kitchen was. “Off the dining room?” he ventured to guess.

      “Do you even know where the dining room is, Mr. Rossi?” she asked, sweet as cream pudding.

      “Right off the kitchen,” he answered her, getting a little irritated she was grilling him. More irritated he didn’t know the answers. After all, this was a big house. “How about killing him off in the dining room?”

      She shook her head. “The script calls for him being found dead in his bed. In the master bedroom bed.”

      “Meg,” a woman said, striding into the study, a look of complete consternation on her face. “We have a problem.”

      Matt recognized her from the foyer. She was tall and skinny with a face that might be pretty if she smiled once in a while. Great, he had a smiler and a frowner on his hands. Both female. It almost felt as if he was caught in a cosmic estrogen tornado.

      “Tina, this is Mr. Rossi, owner of this property,” Ms. Renshaw said. “Mr. Rossi, Tina Brown.”

      “Hiya,” Ms. Brown said, with a perfunctory smile, which vanished instantly. “Meg, Mr. Brogan isn’t going to be delivering any speeches anytime soon. He’s really whacked out on those drugs.”

      “You have drugs in my house?” Matt said.

      “Prescription,” the Renshaw woman said quickly. She tapped her jaw. “Root canal.” She looked from him to Tina. “We’ll have to improvise. Maybe he can play the silent but sinister butler. This isn’t a problem.”

      “Meg, we need a corpse. One that can read his lines.”

      Matt couldn’t figure out how a corpse would need lines, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

      Megan Renshaw began tapping her lips with one finger. Then her head swiveled in his direction. “Are you as quick at memorizing as you are at reading?”

      Uh-oh. “Well, technically, I guess. But—”

      “And you want to sleep in your own bed in the master suite, right?”

      “Since I own the place, I think I have the—”

      She thrust out her hand. “Hello, Mr. De Wynter.”

      “We’re dead,” Tina Brown muttered.

      “No, but he will be. Eventually.”

      Matt stared at the woman who was turning the most dazzling smile he’d ever seen on him. “I hope you mean that figuratively.”

      She grabbed his hand and pumped it. “You’re hired.”

      3

      MATT HAD LANDED in the Twilight Zone. He’d come to his house with all intentions of enjoying the serenity it had to offer, only to be greeted with Bizarro World. Worse, he was now apparently employed by a woman who by all rights should be locked in a padded cell.

      Or maybe he should be for even considering the idea. But for some reason letting this woman down held no appeal. And heck, he was on vacation, and his favorite reading had always been mysteries. It might not be so bad. Maybe even fun, though even playing dead was a little disconcerting.

      The hand she stuck out to him was soft as a flower petal against his much more callous one. And was completely swallowed by it. Although she was fairly tall for a woman, she was slender and apparently small-boned. It gave him a sense of her vulnerability.

      And she was on his property. It seemed to him it was his duty to make certain he’d be there to watch out for her. Because by the looks of everything so far, she wasn’t exactly organized.

      Reluctantly he dropped her hand. “How soon after the guests arrive do I die?” he asked.

      “The first night.”

      “And then what?”

      “And then we cart you off on a gurney, and you don’t return until the mystery’s been solved.”

      Matt shook his head. “Unacceptable. I want to be free to keep an eye on the house and grounds during the entire time.”

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