Diana Killian

“But what would your motive be?”
“Oh, motive!” Elysia sketched another graceful, taloned gesture.
“There has to be a motive. You’re already rich.”
Elysia cooed, “As the Bard says, ‘You can never be too rich or too thin.’ ”
“The Bard didn’t say that.”
“I’m sure he did, pumpkin, though possibly not in so many words.”

For a shocked moment A.J. lay on the sidewalk wondering if she’d finally had it. After the initial disastrous contact of soft body on sidewalk, she wasn’t feeling much of anything-that might be good, though. Above her the streets lamps were doing an unpleasant whirly thing.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Elysia was saying, clopping back across the street.
“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Detective Oberlin.
It was like a religious revival, A.J. thought. She blinked up, trying to focus, and Detective Oberlin’s face swam into her line of vision. He was joined by Elysia, and then the alarmed face of his dinner companion.
“Wow,” said Oberlin’s friend-apparently an atheist.

“It was yellow. I’d stake my reputation on it.”
Her reputation as what? A.J. wondered. TV sleuth or innocent bystander?

"Look, sweetheart, I know you're feeling a little... lost, but you need to come back to town and have your nervous breakdown in a civilized place."

service could possibly be. Donate a kidney? Carry letters of transit across enemy lines? Give Nicole three free months’ membership at [the yoga studio]?
She said cautiously, “Well, I mean, if there’s something I can do . . .”
Nicole hadn’t stopped long enough to hear that. “If you say no, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Seriously.”
A.J. could picture the text message now: Srsly?
“What is it you need?” she inquired.
“I left my cell phone at the studio.”

Elysia’s expression rearranged itself into sympathetic lines. “ ‘The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.’” She sipped her tonic water and added, “Shakespeare.”
“Does Pascal know the Bard is stealing his material?” A.J. murmured

Skidding down the hall, [A.J.] found Jake on the porch steps, nodding a greeting to Elysia. “So. The mummy returns.”
Elysia sniffed. Actually, it was more of a snort.
“You’re back early, aren’t you? Was it voluntary or did they expel all the diplomats?”
“You’re so amusing, Inspector. Perhaps that’s what holds my daughter captive. I’d been thinking handcuffs.”

“You’re being blackmailed?”
“I am.”
“Don’t preen, Mother. It’s not something to be proud of.”

“Why was he blackmailing you?” She had a sudden uneasy vision of her esteemed parent thrusting antiquities down her blouse while browsing historic sites.
“Oh, you know. The usual reasons.” Elysia cast a slightly discomfited peek at Mr. Meagher who looked atypically blank-faced.
A.J. looked from one to the other of them. “Well, I mean . . .” This was unexpectedly awkward. “Was he threatening to expose you?”
“Yes.” Elysia suddenly tittered. “So amusing.”

“Why’d you pay this villain?” Mr. Meagher cut in. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Why? But you’d have put a stop to it.” Elysia clearly thought this was too obvious to need spelling out. “I was enjoying myself.”