File M For Murder

“He came to Laura’s dressing room after the play.” Sean met my gaze as I turned to look at him. “He seemed okay, though he sure has a healthy opinion of himself. He spent probably fifteen minutes quoting reviews of his plays.” Sean shook his head in obvious amusement.

Laura snickered. “That’s Connor. Self-absorbed ought to be his middle name. I told him that once, and he took it as a compliment.”

“Why would you date someone like that?” I asked, puzzled by what I was learning about my daughter. “I can’t see the attraction myself.” Not for someone as independent and strong-minded as you, I added silently.

“He can be charming and sweet when he makes an effort. And he really is an awesome writer. His plays are amazing.” Laura ran a hand through her curls. Diesel warbled, and she rubbed his head again. “But he’s also exhausting. High maintenance could be his other middle name.”

“Are you together now?” Sean asked.

“No, just friends at the moment,” Laura said. “And that’s all we’ll ever be, trust me.”

“I hope it stays that way,” I said. I didn’t fancy the idea of Connor Lawton as a potential son-in-law. “You can do a lot better, no matter how gifted he is.”

“You don’t think anyone’s good enough for me.” Laura poked my arm with a finger. “Admit it.”

“True,” I said, treating her to a mock-severe frown. Then I grinned. “Probably no one ever will be, though I’m willing to be convinced at some point.”

“Maybe there’s a prince somewhere willing to marry a commoner.” Sean smirked. “Dad can recruit him for you, little sister.”

“And maybe he’ll have a sister for my big brother,” Laura said in a sweet tone. “That is, if she’s willing to kiss a frog.” She stuck her tongue out at Sean.

I laughed but decided to shift the conversation back to Connor Lawton. “Will it be awkward for you, having to be around him all semester?”

Laura shrugged. “I’m going to be way too busy to think much about him. Besides, we get along fine as friends.”

“The less you have to be around him, the better,” I said.

Laura shook her head at me. “Dad, don’t worry. I’ve dealt with bigger pains than Connor, believe me.”

I was probably better off not following up on that statement, I decided. I worried enough about Laura on her own in Hollywood as it was. “I’ll try. What say we go to the kitchen and figure out something for dinner?”

“Sounds good to me,” Laura said. “I’m starving. All I had for lunch was a few pretzels on the plane.” Diesel hopped from her lap to the floor and rubbed his head against her leg.

I smiled down at the cat. “Diesel is hoping you’ll drop him some tidbits like you did the last time you were here. Just don’t overdo it.”

Laura and Diesel came with me to the kitchen. Sean disappeared upstairs, saying he’d be down later.

In the kitchen I found a note stuck to the refrigerator door with a cat magnet. I recognized Stewart Delacorte’s handwriting. Stewart, a professor of chemistry at Athena College, moved in five months ago after his great-uncle was murdered in the Delacorte family home. His stay was supposed to last only until he found a permanent place to live. Somehow he didn’t seem to be able to find a place he liked, so he was still here, occupying a large bedroom on the third floor.

The note informed me that Stewart had prepared a chicken and mushroom risotto and left it in the refrigerator. The note included instructions on heating it for supper. He concluded by stating that he would probably be late tonight and not to wait for him.

“Looks like I don’t have to cook after all,” I said as I handed the note to Laura.

She skimmed the contents and handed it back to me. “Sounds yummy. You told me he’s an awesome cook.”

“He is,” I said. “Between him and Azalea, Sean and I have been eating better than ever.” I patted my waistline ruefully. “I need to be getting more exercise. I miss seeing my feet.”

Laura laughed. “Oh, Dad, stop exaggerating.” She cocked her head to one side as she regarded me. “But if you want to get up and run with me in the morning, I’d love it.”

“Thanks, honey,” I said. “I’ll stick to walking, if you don’t mind. Besides, Diesel likes to go with me, and he doesn’t get motivated to run unless there’s a squirrel involved.”

At the sound of his name, Diesel chirped several times, and Laura reached over to scratch his head. “Yeah, big boy, I bet you’d run with me, wouldn’t you? We’d have fun.”

I laughed at the expression on the cat’s face. I would have sworn he understood Laura and didn’t like the notion of running any better than I did. He moved away from Laura and closer to me.

“I guess not,” Laura said with a wry grin.

“I’ll make a salad to go with the risotto,” I said and opened the fridge door to find the salad makings.

Laura set a large bowl on the counter by the sink and pulled a knife from the drawer. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow night, Dad?”