up and grinned. “You didn’t already overhear that, too?”
Lucy giggled. “No. Seriously, are you healing okay?”
“Yes, it’s just going to take time for the new skin to toughen up, but it will happen soon enough.”
“Okay, then,” Lucy said, and dug out the deli-made red sauce that Sahara liked and began assembling the tasty appetizers.
“Double up on that shrimp, please,” Sahara said. “This is lunch...not an appetizer.”
Lucy smiled and squeezed some more shrimp into place around the rim of the dish. She was digging in the pantry for poppy seed crackers when the house phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Sahara said, and slid off the bar stool to pick up. “This is Sahara,” she said.
“Afternoon, Miss Travis. This is Adam. I have an envelope here for you from the studio.”
“Is the messenger still there?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’m getting a little stir-crazy. How about I ride down to meet you at the elevator. You won’t have to leave your post, and I’ll pretend I just went on some lavish shopping spree.”
Adam laughed. “Yes, ma’am. That would be great. I’ll be there when the doors open.”
“On my way,” Sahara said.
“Pages already?” Lucy said.
“I think so. Tom certainly didn’t waste any time. I’ll be right back and I’ll let myself in.”
“Okay,” Lucy said, and continued assembling lunch as Sahara grabbed her keys and left the penthouse.
Just getting out into the hall between her apartment and the elevator felt like she was escaping. It angered her that she’d let some faceless coward run her to ground, hiding like a criminal. She punched in the code on the keypad. The doors opened. She walked in and rode down. Adam was waiting with the envelope as promised.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she said.
“My pleasure, Miss Travis. How’s your foot?”
“Slowly healing, and thank you again for being my knight in shining armor and getting a doctor to make a house call.”
He beamed. “Yes, ma’am. My pleasure. Have a nice day.”
“You, too,” Sahara said, and rode back up and let herself in.
She laid her keys on the table by the door and headed for the kitchen, opening the envelope as she went. Sure enough, it contained pages of the script with all of the dialogue and costume changes marked.
“We’re back in business, I guess,” Sahara said, as she laid the pages near her place setting and slid back onto the bar stool.
She scanned the memo on top and then leaned back with a sigh.
“It’s an early call tomorrow, and they’re sending a car for me, so you can just meet me on set.”
Lucy carried the food to the island.
“Sure thing,” she said. “I’ll stop by that little French pastry shop that you like and pick up some croissants, and I’ll also pick up your lunch. No need taking a chance on someone getting to your food again. It’s going from my hands to yours.”
“I appreciate that,” Sahara said.
“And I am happy to do it,” Lucy said. “So, what’s going on in the new scenes that required wardrobe changes?”
“I don’t know. Let me see,” Sahara said, and she plucked a cold peeled shrimp from the bowl and dredged it in the spicy cocktail sauce before popping it in her mouth.
* * *
After waiting to see if Sahara Travis would ever come back out of that penthouse, Bubba was getting antsy. Right after he learned that the wrong woman died eating the poisoned food, he’d begun preparing the next wave of attack. His plan? Bomb the elevator. It had to work because it was the only way she could leave her apartment.
He got the name of the company The Magnolia used for mechanical repairs and set the next step in motion. That meant finding someone to build and place the bomb. Once that happened, there was nothing he could do but wait.
It was midafternoon a few days later when he learned Sahara would be leaving the penthouse the next day. He contacted the bomber he’d arranged for with one text message.
Go fix the elevator. It needs to be in place this evening. She’ll be leaving the penthouse by 5:00 a.m.
The bomber reacted calmly. Everything was ready. He put on the disguise, slipped the bomb into a big yellow toolbox and then carefully covered it with tools and headed to The Magnolia. He circled the building several times before he saw a service vehicle pull around to the back. He waited until the vehicle left, then parked, grabbed his toolbox and headed inside.
There was a small hallway that led to a check-in window. He walked up, quickly eyeing the security camera in the far corner of the room behind the receptionist’s desk. He tapped on the counter to get her attention.
She looked up, recognized the uniform, saw a company ID tag from where she was sitting and smiled.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
“Got a call to check brakes and cables on the penthouse elevator.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“I go where they send me,” he said with a shrug.
The receptionist was hesitant. It was Magnolia policy to never bother the residents. Their job was to make life as private and luxurious as possible, so calling to confirm a repairman who wasn’t going anywhere near the penthouse itself could mean a black mark against her work record.
“Well, I guess it’s all right. Sign in on the clipboard and sign back out when you leave.”
He signed in, then tapped the counter once more.
“Which way from here?”
“Down the stairwell to the basement. The residential elevators are on the west wall. The single one on the south is the penthouse.”
The bomber nodded, picked up his toolbox and shuffled off.
Once in the basement, he went straight to work. Someone had obviously come down in the elevator earlier, because the car was on the first floor, and it didn’t take long for him to get to the controls to bring it one floor farther down. At least he didn’t have to climb up the ladder inside the shaft to get to the car, although he’d been prepared to do so, if needed.
After a quick glance around, he climbed up on top of the car to set the bomb, fastening it right against the cables, then set a small camera on top of the emergency exit in the ceiling, aiming it down into the car so that when the Travis woman got
