LITMIR.BIZ

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to her.

      If these ladies were right about her lack of objectivity—and Ellen had the sinking suspicion they might be—there could only be one explanation….

      He was interfering with her work, too.

      Félicie Allée—three days later

      THOUGH THE PLANTATION wasn’t quite an hour south of New Orleans, Félicie Allée might have been on a deserted island. The shady oak-lined alley leading to the circle drive and majestic front entrance transported Ellen from the reality of well-traveled highways baking beneath the sun to a shadowy fantasy place cooled by the bayou breeze.

      Sunlight streamed through the leaves overhead to play shadow-and-lace games along the columns and metalwork enclosing the double-tiered balconies around the plantation.

      She’d first visited Félicie Allée after Lennon’s wedding. Perhaps her second visit was even more breathtaking, because this time Ellen knew what to expect. Her awe was tempered with simple appreciation for the way the plantation had been built to bring a touch of elegance and civilization to the wildly lush setting. Crepe myrtles, azaleas and camellias all burst in bright bloom on the grounds, and to a woman like Ellen, reared beneath the often leaden skies of Manhattan and Long Island, the scene resembled a living oil painting.

      “Leave it to your great-aunt to turn boring old corporate training into a game,” Ellen said, as Lennon steered her sport utility vehicle down the oak-lined drive leading to the plantation. “Corporate training and murder-mystery events. Who’d ever have thought of combining the two?”

      Lennon shot her a sidelong glance. “No one has ever accused Auntie Q of lacking imagination.”

      Ellen couldn’t help but smile. Lennon’s great-aunt believed in having a good time and didn’t make apologies, an odd attitude to Ellen, whose family operated in such a different manner. Chatting with Miss Q always proved refreshing, very different from the in-depth business strategy sessions she had with various relations during family functions.

      “So who’s my partner?” she asked Lennon, who slowed her SUV in front of the entrance. “Did you put a bug in your great-aunt’s ear to give me Susanna? Nothing against Tracy but she doesn’t travel light. I won’t stand a chance if I have to room with her. And you know how weird I am about sharing my space.”

      “I know, but Auntie Q had already made the arrangements. She promised you’d be comfortable, though.” Lennon paused with her hand above the door handle. “You okay?”

      Okay? No, she wouldn’t go straight to okay. Not when the first few days of her vacation had gone bust because all she could think about was him. The man had a power over her that was nothing short of scary. Whether involved with him or not, he consumed her thoughts, influenced her actions, sneaked right past the barriers she worked so hard to maintain in her life.

      But all was not lost yet. She still had almost a week of vacation to let the fantasy of murder and mayhem clear her head so she could return to reality with some brilliant idea about how to put all thoughts of him firmly behind her.

      “I’ve just spent the last three days listening to you preach about how I don’t make enough time to have fun,” Ellen said. “May I enjoy the rest of my vacation, please? Without any mention of work, or him.”

      “You got it.” Lennon shoved her door wide and climbed out. “No more reality, as long as you promise to turn off your stinking cell phone. You can survive a few days without it. We’ll do fantasy this weekend and— Oh, how timely. Here comes the queen of make-believe herself. You can ask her who you’re rooming with.”

      Miss Q strode across the gallery toward them, looking as if she’d stepped off the pages of a historic costume book in an oversize plaid dress with leg-o’-mutton puffed sleeves.

      “Welcome to Félicie Allée, my dears.” She captured each by an arm when they reached the top of the steps and maneuvered them around toward the door. “I’m so pleased you’re a part of our opening event.”

      After kissing Lennon on the cheek, she clasped Ellen’s hands in a paper-thin grasp. “Thank you for accepting my invitation. I wanted Southern Charm Mysteries’ grand opening to be a special event among friends.”

      “Everything coming together?” Lennon asked.

      “All the clues have been placed. The red herrings planted,” Miss Q said. “The cast is in character, and you’re all going to have a grand time playing the detectives to solve the mystery.”

      “I’m sure we will, Auntie.”

      “Of course,” Ellen said, distracted by their entrance into the grand hall.

      The octagonal rotunda extended three stories of sheer visual majesty with curving staircases and intricately carved balustrades. Evidence of the plantation’s new ownership could be seen in woodwork that had been refinished to a gleaming luster and plank flooring so highly polished that light from the cut-crystal chandelier sparkled off it.

      “It’s even more beautiful than I remember,” she said, recalling her first visit after Lennon and Josh’s wedding.

      Miss Q beamed. “Just wait until you see everything we’ve done with the place.”

      “We?”

      “Quite a few of us have been involved in pulling together Southern Charm Mysteries.”

      “Is Josh here yet?” Lennon asked.

      Miss Q nodded. “I’ve installed him in the sky suite. I thought he’d be more comfortable with a floor all to himself, even if you did have to hoof it up three flights.”

      “Who am I rooming with, Miss Q?” Ellen asked.

      “Your roommate is a surprise, dear, but I will tell you this—you’re staying in the garden suite, the loveliest of all our accommodations. And you won’t have to hike up any stairs because it’s right here on the ground floor. So come along.”

      A surprise? The thought of a Miss Q surprise was enough to make the bravest soul quake in her sandals. She exchanged a curious glance with Lennon, but was cut off from further questions when Miss Q motioned them through the hall.

      “You’re the last to arrive and everyone is getting into their costumes. We’ll meet for cocktails on the lower gallery at seven, before heading into the parlor for the introduction. Dinner will be served afterward and you’ll have a chance to meet the other guests and begin your investigations. I believe I’ve given you time to unpack, meet your partners and get settled. Oh, and your wardrobes have been filled with the appropriate costumes and everything you’ll need to get into character.”

      Without pausing to inhale, Miss Q drew a chain from her bodice and peered down at the gold timepiece attached. “Now I’ve got to run. The cast is assembling in the library so I can make last-minute addresses. Lennon, up to the third floor. Ellen, you head down the west wing.” She pointed to a nearby hallway. “The suites have nameplates so you’ll know which is yours. Ta-ta, dears.”

      Lennon rolled her eyes. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

      Before Ellen had a chance to reply, Miss Q shooed them off. “Go. I want you to see your suites.” Then, with a swish of her huge plaid skirts, she hurried off in the opposite direction.

      Easily locating the garden suite, Ellen knocked tentatively, reluctant to meet whoever was inside. Lennon had explained that this grand opening training session hosted Josh’s company, Eastman Investigations, where two of his investigators were in serious need of teamwork training. Knowing Miss Q, Ellen might very well wind up rooming with a total stranger.

      After receiving no response, she tried the handle, and found the room unlocked and her luggage already in the entry.

      “Hello, anyone home?”

      No answer.

      From the doorway, she could see a sitting room with two sets of French doors opening onto a garden. Through the windowpanes,

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