Dead Girl Running (Cape Charade #1)(60)

“A gift?” Kellen followed Frances to the concierge desk. Who would send her a present? Why would someone send her a present?

Frances gestured at a wide, shallow bowl of fruit wrapped in glittering cellophane and tied with a wide red velvet ribbon. “A new delivery lady showed up in a town car, brought this in and asked that it be delivered to you. May I?” Frances held the end of one red ribbon.

“Go for it.”

The Shivering Sherlocks came out of the lounge. The desk staff moved closer. Sheri Jean appeared out of nowhere. Xander took a look, disappeared down the corridor toward the spa and returned with Destiny, Ellen and Mara.

If this was the entertainment of the day, Kellen reflected sourly, the resort needed more guests and hustle and bustle. She wandered over to Mara. “Where were you this morning?” she asked.

“I had a party at my cottage last night for my spa people. I slept in. Then I had some calls to make. Did you come by?” Mara busied herself arranging her hoodie to display more of her off-the-shoulder crop tank.

“I’ve already run and lifted weights!” Kellen toned down her indignation. “Did you see my note?”

“I am determined to win the International Ninja Challenge, on television, in front of the whole world! But first, I want to keep my employees safe and happy. I know you understand that.” Mara fixed her clothing to her satisfaction and smiled at Kellen. “Hmm?”

Nothing created as much teeth-grinding hostility as Mara Philippi telling Kellen something Kellen knew was the truth, something Kellen should appreciate. She smiled back. “Yes, of course. Thank you for thinking first of the resort.” And next time you’re not going to work out with me, could you let me know ahead of time?

Frances gestured Kellen back, and Kellen went gladly. “No card that I can see,” Frances said.

Kellen managed a smile and a sensible “I’d say that’s creepy, but probably the card fell off, right? Can we call the delivery person and ask who sent it?”

Chad Griffin wandered over, orange juice in hand. “No card?”

When had the pilot returned to the resort?

“Ooh, a secret admirer.” He sang, “Kellen’s got a lover. Kellen’s got a lover.”

This man was obnoxious, on her list of probables for the Librarian and on her list as first to be slapped for being an ass. She snapped, “Don’t be stupid. It’s a lost card, not a secret romance. What suitor sends a stupid bowl of fruit, anyway?”

Kellen supposed she shouldn’t have said that. The guests and staff were eyeing her askance, and Patty in the Shivering Sherlocks group said, “I like fruit!”

Kellen reined in her irritation. “I do, too.” She pointed at a decorative tin visible behind the cellophane. “Especially when the fruit is covered in chocolate.”

The Shivering Sherlocks laughed.

Crisis averted.

Until Chad Griffin stuck his nose in again. “Sorry. You don’t have admirers, secret or otherwise. I didn’t know that was a tender spot.”

She maintained a reasonable tone. “There’s another storm coming in. Shouldn’t you be getting that plane off the ground?”

“Okay.” He held up his hands. “PMS, much?”

Mara put her hands on her hips. “Really?”

Sheri Jean said, “Your job’s on the line, mister.”

Kellen stepped up to him, nose to nose. “Get. Out.”

He marched away, trailing tatters of offended dignity. But he didn’t get sympathy, and he didn’t put down his drink.

Kellen hoped she hadn’t made a mistake. Nils Brooks wanted to keep his suspects close. But while the events of the past several days had convinced her Nils Brooks told her the truth about the Yearning Sands Resort smuggling depot, and probably the truth about the Librarian, she still wasn’t convinced that Nils Brooks was telling the truth about himself. And that increased her apprehension and her suspicions…about everyone.

Or maybe she was simply sleep deprived.

Frances smiled after Chad Griffin’s retreating figure. “You know, Kellen, I didn’t know if I liked you before, but you’re getting to be almost human.”

Murders. Smuggling. Obnoxious men. Handsome men. Missing law enforcement. A fussy generator. A quirky communications system. Sure. The whole equation added up to a much more likable Kellen Adams. “Thanks,” Kellen said.

“What’s in the package?” Sheri Jean asked.

Kellen poked at the artistically arranged mounds of tangerines, gold-foil-wrapped pears and apples and plums. “It’s cold.”

“They refrigerated the fruit,” Sheri Jean answered.

“You’re not supposed to refrigerate bananas.” Kellen pulled them off the top and started taking the array of fruit apart, searching for the card. “Are you sure it’s for me?”

“The delivery woman specifically said it was for Kellen Adams,” Frances said. “That is you, isn’t it?”

Mostly. “I can’t eat it all.” Kellen didn’t want to eat any of it. A mystery gift made her remember that disembodied head floating outside Nils’s window, made her think about the Librarian and the people who died in agony, their hands cut from their bodies, their pleas for help unheard. In this place, at this time, she had to wonder if someone with less than honorable intentions had sent this.