“I personally plan to strangle Chef Art when this is over,” Uncle Saul said. “Of all the stupid—”

The ministers from Our Daily Bread were fussing and feuding like a bunch of schoolboys. It seemed that the race had finally found their soft underbelly.

“Don’t criticize yet,” I said. “Chef Art might have set this up to get Delia delivering biscuit bowls in a bikini, but it might get our competitors so upset that they lose their edge, too.”

Uncle Saul shrugged. “So be it. I’ll be glad to get back home.”

I hugged him. “Have I said how much I appreciate you being with me through all of this?”

“You don’t have to say it, Zoe. I love you, and we’re family. That’s what family is for.”

“I don’t want to be part of a family that requires its members to wear a red bikini,” Ollie interrupted.

I looked up at him. He was at least a foot taller than me. Sometimes it was easy to forget that this man was a tough ex-marine who was still in fighting shape. He was such a sweet person.

“You don’t have to wear if it bothers you too much,” I said. “You can sit this one out. No one will think less of you for it. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“Like I’d do that.” He hugged me, almost lifting me off the floor. “A man can gripe, can’t he?”

“Yes, he can.”

Delia had her bikini. We were ready to go. There was still so much going on in the bikini room that we were able to walk out unmolested by any of the camera crew.

“What?” Uncle Saul grinned. “No deep questions about what red bikinis mean to us or what our plans are for tomorrow?”

I laughed. “Not when you’ve got a bunch of angry ministers trying on bikinis.”

“Good. I’m hungry, and I need a drink.” Ollie sniffed. “I smell food coming from that way.”

Chef Art still had other plans. He was waiting close by when we emerged. “Hey. We’re still going out to eat some decent food, right? My limo is waiting.”

Uncle Saul and Ollie glanced at each other and then high-fived.

“All right,” Ollie said. “Let’s go.”

“I’m right behind you.” Uncle Saul slapped him on the back.

“Let me run up and stash these bikinis.” I was nervous about losing one of them before tomorrow. I gathered Ollie’s and Uncle Saul’s with mine.

“I’ll just go up with you and drop mine off, if that’s okay.” Delia smiled with a hint of blush in her cheeks and whispered, “I don’t like my clothes to touch other people’s clothes.”

I smiled back at her, after I pushed the elevator button, thinking she was joking. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. It’s a habit of mine, I guess.” She shrugged. “It’s a thing I learned to do when I was a kid. It’s hard keeping clothes to yourself when you have five sisters.”

We got in the elevator and I hugged her. I could see she was uncomfortable even discussing it. “That’s okay. We all have weird things about us.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

“Oh. You mean like my weird thing?”

“Yeah. What do you do weird—besides sleeping with your evil cat?”

“Is that weird?” I’d never thought of sleeping with Crème Brûlée as weird. “No. I was thinking about when I quit my job to run a food truck.”

“I think sleeping with the cat will do.”

The elevator door chimed and opened. We went to our room and dropped off the suits. I gave Crème Brûlée a little hug and a kiss on his nose.

We went back down in the elevator. The men were waiting in the bar. I wished Miguel was there, too. How long could the police talk to him about what happened to Alex?

When we got into Chef Art’s limo, I took the opportunity to ask him if he’d heard anything about Miguel.

“Zoe, I only called my lawyer while I was waiting for you and Delia. We talked about it over dinner, remember?”

“This is stupid. I don’t understand why they keep interviewing him.”

“Maybe because they think he killed someone?” Ollie said. “I’m not saying he did. But the police can get pretty nasty when they think you’re lying to them.”

We went out for drinks at a private club where everyone knew Chef Art. We all had a little too much to drink knowing someone else was driving us around town. Uncle Saul and I talked about what he had planned for the biscuit bowls the next day. I was surprised and pleased by his choices.

Chef Art was welcomed with a big hug from his friend who owned the exclusive restaurant where we went for dinner afterward. He ordered champagne, and we all had elaborate meals with wine.

By the time we’d stopped for drinks again after dinner and then gone back to the hotel, I was a little on the wobbly side. The elevator seemed to be going in the wrong direction. Delia wasn’t as affected by it. She helped me get on and off the elevator with a smile.

“You aren’t used to drinking so much.” She took my key card after the third time I couldn’t open the door.

“Not so much.” I grinned at her. “Thanks.”

“Can you make it to bed by yourself? I’m going back out for a while with Ollie.”

“I’ll be fine. Good night, Delia. I hope our clothes never touch.”

She laughed at me and closed the door on her way out.

I was getting undressed, but my shoes were proving difficult. Someone knocked at the door. Hoping it was Miguel, I ran for it, almost tripping over my own feet.

It wasn’t Miguel. It was Macey Helms. I looked past her for Marsh, but there was no sign of him.

Great. Like I can talk straight about who killed Alex right now.

She had a strange expression on her face. At least I thought she did. I hoped it wasn’t me, and I was imagining that she looked odd.

Before I could say anything, she held up her hand. It was covered in blood.

“Zoe, I need your help.”

TWENTY-FOUR

I guided her into the hotel room and called 911.

“What happened?” I helped her take off her dark pink jacket. It was covered in blood, too.

“Someone shot me as I walked up to the hotel.” Her face was very pale, eyes sunken, with dark circles around them.

“Where’s Marsh?” I looked at my cell phone, called his number and the emergency services number. I hoped the paramedics wouldn’t be far away.”Listen to me a minute.” She put her hand on the cell phone to stop me from calling for help. “I learned something about the killer. I haven’t had time to tell anyone else. You have to remember—”

Her voice started fading, and her eyes closed. Her hand dropped from the cell phone, leaving a smear of blood behind it.

“You can’t die,” I told her. Weren’t people supposed to stay awake? “Stay with me, Macey. Don’t lose consciousness.”

Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, and her lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying.

I tried to flag down a passing porter. Maybe the hotel could get someone here faster. Hotel staff passed me by like I was invisible.

“Zoe?” Miguel said on his way to the elevator. “Oh my God, what happened?”

Tina came in and sat on the bed while Miguel knelt by my side on the floor.

“She said someone shot her. I don’t think she knew who it was. How long does it take for an ambulance to get here?”

I heard the elevator chime. Uniformed paramedics rushed into the room with a stretcher and other equipment. “Help her, please.”

Miguel put his arm around me and we moved away from Helms. The paramedics were all over her, calling out her vitals and attaching needles and other apparatus to her. She was so helpless.

“She said she was shot,” I repeated, wanting to be some help.

One of them briefly turned to face me. “We can see that, ma’am. Best for you all to wait outside until we can get her out of here.”