Page 102 of Say Yes to the Death

“Nah,” Claire said, gently applying her brakes. “It’s better to keep a car between us so she doesn’t recognize us. We’ll see if she turns.”

“You’re weirdly calm,” Mindy observed. She popped another cheese puff in her mouth.

“It’s kind of fun being the stalker and not the stalkee for once. Do you think my stalker’s here too? Following behind us? Maybe he’ll be a witness for us at the mediation meeting.”

Nicole turned around. “No one’s following us. Where’s Officer Shiccitano?”

“I told him I was spending the night with two friends. Apparently, I can’t be in danger with you guys around. Oh, she’s turning!”

Wendy’s red Mercedes turned right onto Hawthorne Road. Claire activated her turn signal and slowed down. When Wendy was far enough down the road, she turned to follow.

This road seemed extra familiar for some reason. “Aren’t we pretty close to—” Claire began.

Oh, no. A hotel loomed out of the night. Its bright, Vegas-like scene half blinded Claire. The Heirloom Hotel.

Wendy’s convertible swung up the inclined drive and headed for the back of the lot. Claire’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. Of all the goddamn hotels in West Haven, Wendy had to meet at the one where Claire had been abducted.

“We don’t have to do this,” Mindy said in a rush.

“Forget it, Claire. Let’s just go home.” Nicole reached through the gap in the front seats and squeezed Claire’s arm.

Claire paused. They were at a dead standstill on the road outside the hotel. She flicked her turn signal on so violently that she scratched her leg.

“No. This ends tonight. Get your camera.” She swung into the lot and parked on the opposite side. Wendy, tottering in her thigh-high boots, hadn’t reached the entrance yet.

“Disguises,” Mindy ordered, pulling a bag into her lap. She passed out wigs and accessories.

Claire became a redhead with a star-spangled hair scarf. Mindy was a platinum blonde with a press badge, and Nicole had waist-length black hair and an empty gun holster.

“There she goes,” Nicole hissed. “Let’s go.”

As Wendy disappeared through the revolving door, they piled out of the car and slunk like cats through the night. Claire slid into the revolving door. Nicole and Mindy followed right behind her.

“Wait—” she said, but it was too late. The three of them were crammed in a single section of door. They had to shuffle together like a small herd of turtles until they broached the building. Not exactly the covert entrance she had been hoping for.

Her blood chilled as they stepped into the lobby. The hallway to the left seemed to yawn darkly at her. A short way down that hall was the restroom where Claire had been abducted just over a month before.

“You ok?” Nicole asked. She squeezed Claire’s hand.

Claire snapped back to attention and nodded. She scanned the room and found Wendy (or, more accurately, Wendy’s underbutt) bent over at the bar, waving at a bartender.

“Let’s sit,” she said, collapsing into a low loveseat that faced the bar. She snatched the newspaper from the coffee table and opened it. Nicole and Mindy jammed themselves in on either side of her. Not suspicious at all.

“Elevator’s opening. Is that—” Mindy hissed.

Claire’s mouth dropped open. The paper crinkled in her hands. Dustin Foltz, a member of the town council, had just walked into the lobby. Was he here for Wendy? Was this how she had won?

“Camera,” she whispered to Nicole.

“On it.” Nicole drew her camera from her bag. Claire stabbed a large hole in the newspaper with the Swiss Army knife in her purse, and Nicole slid the lens into the hole. She snapped a couple of pictures as Dustin approached the bar.

“He’s totally going to talk to her,” Mindy whispered. She elbowed Claire in the ribcage as though she wasn’t sitting there witnessing the exact same event.

Claire frowned. “Do you think she’s sleeping with him? But that still wouldn’t turn the tides enough. There are five judges for the categories.”

“She didn’t put on that dress to have a business meeting. Maybe she’s sleeping with all the judges.” Nicole pressed her eye against the viewfinder. The shutter snapped as Dustin put a hand on Wendy’s thigh.

“Not even Wendy could be that low. Shh, they’re talking. Let’s move closer.”

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