Book Fair and Foul (Ashton Corners Book Club) (19 page)

Sticking my nose where it didn’t belong was never healthy under any circumstances. I knew that from personal experience.

KILLER IN CRINOLINES
—DUFFY BROWN

L
izzie had no idea if she should report to the principal’s office on entering the school the next morning. She debated with herself on the walk in from the parking lot. He hadn’t asked her to; she should just to show she was there; he could still say something demeaning; she needed to show she was powerful and in control. Her decision was made for her as Charles Benton came out of the main office just as she entered through the front doors. He looked at her a few seconds before nodding. She summoned her brightest smile then shrugged as he turned away and headed down the hall.

Welcome back, Lizzie
. She approached the staff room with less caution but still some hesitation. No need. The handful of teachers grabbing their coffee greeted her with enthusiasm. Sally-Jo rushed over and threw her arms around Lizzie, whispering in her ear, “So glad you’re back. Knock ’em dead.”

Lizzie grabbed her own coffee and then headed to the library to try to sort out her agenda for the remainder of the week. She’d attempt to reschedule the missed appointments without shortchanging anyone in the time department.

After attending to her already booked in-class time with a third-grade teacher followed by a testing period with a young sassy girl in sixth grade, she made the necessary phone calls to parents and managed to fit everyone in for the remainder of the week. By lunch, Lizzie felt she’d accomplished a full day’s work but knew she was in for a long afternoon at a full meeting of special education teachers at the school board office.

Glancing at her watch as she left that meeting, she was surprised it was only three o’clock. It felt like at least two hours later. Maybe a good time to visit Fay Huxton-Parson. She’d bet Mark would not be there at this hour of the day.

She’d shared her thoughts about Gigi and her cell phone with Mark when he took her home after dinner the night before. He said he’d look into it and then the discussion had turned to a romantic parting of ways for the evening. Maybe she should follow up with Gigi just in case. After a visit to the Huxton family.

It didn’t take her long to find the estate, just fifteen minutes out of town. The antebellum mansion rivaled Molly’s but the vast surrounding grounds seemed to go on forever. A great place for privacy. Lizzie rang the doorbell and a black woman dressed in a traditional maid’s outfit, black dress and white apron, opened the door. She made Lizzie remain out on the door stoop until she returned a few minutes later. She asked Lizzie to follow her to a darkened sitting room just off the main hall and wait for the lady of the house.

Fay Huxton-Parson swept into the room, a vision in pales. Her short whitish blonde hair, obviously colored, was the same color as her cashmere sweater set and skirt. Cream-colored pumps completed the look. She held out her hand to Lizzie, an inquisitive look on her face or at least Lizzie assumed that’s what it was. What it looked like to Lizzie was that Ms. Huxton-Parson had had several visits to a plastic surgeon or perhaps a series of Botox treatments. The wrinkle-free face did not match her age or the frail appearance of the rest of her body.

“I’m sorry to intrude without calling first,” Lizzie said and explained who she was. “I was hoping you might spare me a few minutes. I have a couple of questions I’d like to ask you.”

Huxton-Parson eased herself onto a straight-backed armchair sporting a brocade slipcover. It looked more suited to the dining room, but from the way she sat, Lizzie figured the chair was ideal for a bad back. Lizzie sat on the other side of the massive carved oak coffee table.

“About what? You have my curiosity piqued, I must admit.”

Lizzie wondered just how forthright to be but decided it would be best to just get it out there. “I’m wondering about a friend of mine, Ashley Dixon, who had been making enquiries about the Huxton Hotel. I wondered if she’d been here to speak to you.”

Huxton-Parson looked as if she’d been slapped and then quickly recovered her composure. “And what business is it of yours, if she had?”

Lizzie took that to mean yes, so she forged ahead. “You may have heard that she was murdered last week. I’m trying to find out more about what she did while she was in Ashton Corners. She was visiting from New York.”

Lizzie knew she was being sized up. She sat perfectly still, hoping to present a nonthreatening persona. Huxton-Parson stared a couple of minutes and then stood abruptly and walked to the window. She spoke, her back to Lizzie.

“And just how much do you know and want, Ms. Turner?”

“What?” Lizzie wondered if she’d heard correctly.

Huxton-Parson whirled to face Lizzie, her face a sneer. “Oh, come on now. You said you were friends with that woman. Surely, she confided in you. In fact, I’ll bet since you’re local, you put her onto us. To me.”

Lizzie shook her head. “No. No, I didn’t. I had no idea what Ashley was up to. She only told me that she planned to stay on awhile.”

“I think you should leave.” Huxton-Parson’s voice was stone cold.

Lizzie stood shakily. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I only want to find out the truth about what happened to Ashley.”

“And you think my family murdered her? For what reason? She was a nobody and she had no claim whatsoever. She was never a threat. Now, leave.”

Lizzie left quickly, wondering if the maid had been hovering and heard, since she appeared at the front door, opening it quickly and closing it firmly behind Lizzie.

Lizzie sat in her car a few moments, hands shaking. What was all that about? She glanced at the house and felt eyes on her. She started the car and drove slowly down the driveway, turning left toward town. As she passed Glendale Park, she turned into it and pulled over at the far end of the parking lot. She needed to think.

She got out of the car and walked toward the Tallapoosa River, sifting through the conversation in her mind. What claim had Huxton-Parson been talking about? That seemed to be the crux of her reaction. Lizzie kept walking, slowing her pace as she turned onto the walkway that paralleled the river. She passed several joggers going the other direction, and an elderly couple, leaning on each other as they slowly made their way along.

Lizzie knew that Ashley had been asking questions about the hotel. No, more specifically, about when her mama had worked at the hotel for a summer. How did that translate to a claim of some sort?

Lizzie stopped in her tracks, almost causing a cyclist to collide with her. Had something happened to her mama? Bertha Redding had told her that Ashley’s mama had left before the summer was over. Had she witnessed something and maybe tried her hand at blackmail and now Ashley had picked up the same trail?

Had she witnessed something and run away, afraid for her life? And had Ashley finally found out about it and tried to get the whole story? Or was she trying to get even more? Had Ashley tried to blackmail the Huxton family? But why? What had her mama seen? Or done?
Too many possibilities.

Lizzie did some quick math. If she remembered right, Ashley was about a year younger than she, which meant she was born in 1983. What summer had her mama worked at the hotel? Lizzie had it written down at home. She dared not trust her memory. She wanted to be certain of her facts before she took this any further.

If she was right, she needed to talk to Mark right away. She knew she’d get no further with Fay Huxton-Parson, and by now, the entire family had probably been alerted. At the very least, told not to speak to Lizzie. Of that she was certain.

Secrets. Indeed.

I put my head back and closed my eyes. There had to be some way to fix this. I just wished I knew how.

GRACE INTERRUPTED
—JULIE HYZY

L
izzie phoned Mark as soon as she had checked her notes at home. It took several tries before she connected with him on his cell phone. She asked if he could come to her place as soon as possible, refusing to discuss it with him on the phone. He made it to her place in less than ten minutes.

“Are you all right? What’s wrong?” he asked as he burst in through the kitchen door.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just need to tell you something and I thought it was better to discuss it in person.”

Mark heaved a sigh of relief and then glared at her. “I thought you were in trouble. I was on my way to a meeting with the mayor. This had better be good.”

“It is. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I worry about you all the time, Lizzie.” He walked over to the fridge and pulled out the Brita, pouring himself a glass of water, and turned to face her. “Now, what’s up?”

“I had a little chat with Fay Huxton-Parson this afternoon.”

“You what?”

Lizzie knew the signs of Mark’s breaking point quickly approaching. She hurried on. “Have you talked to her about Ashley yet?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And, nothing. You are not part of this investigative team. I tell you nothing.”

Lizzie stamped her foot. Now she was getting angry. “That’s not fair. I need to know if you have any reason to suspect the Huxton family is involved in Ashley’s death.”

“You need to know? I need you to keep out of this investigation. We go through this every time there’s a murder, Lizzie. I am the cop. You are a civilian. It’s my job to solve this. It’s your job to stay out of it. I can’t let you get involved just because we’re in a relationship. And besides all that, it’s too frigging dangerous. Now will you please back off?”

Lizzie just stared at him. She hadn’t seen him that angry with her before. She knew she had to calm herself before saying anything.

Mark finished the glass of water and then took a deep breath. He sounded more like his old self when he spoke. “I don’t want to argue with you, Lizzie. Look, I know you’re worried about being a suspect and I know that you’re naturally nosy.” He held up his hand as she was about to object.

“But I can’t share details of the investigation with you because you are a suspect, even though an unlikely one. So, please don’t ask.”

“Okay, then let me tell you what I suspect.” She waited a few seconds and when he didn’t object, she continued. “I asked Fay Huxton-Parson one simple question, namely had Ashley been around to talk to her, and she blew up. She wanted to know what I knew and how much I wanted. And then she ordered me out of the house.”

She let Mark think about it. He started pacing and then finally sat at the table. She followed suit.

“What do you think she meant by that? I know you have an idea,” he finally said.

“It had something to do with Ashley’s mama working at the Huxton Hotel one summer in the early 1980s. She left her summer job earlier than planned, before summer was over. And I’m pretty certain that Ashley was born in 1983.”

“You think her mama was pregnant? Don’t tell me you think by a Huxton?”

“Well, doesn’t it add up?”

“It could or it could mean something entirely different. I don’t want to go jumping to conclusions.” He ran his hand over his head. Lizzie could see he was almost due for another shave, small hair growth beginning to show in places.

His next question sounded more like a statement. “You think a Huxton killed Ashley Dixon?”

Lizzie nodded. “I know it sounds a stretch but doesn’t it make sense? Ashley said she planned to stay on for a while. She’d been asking questions at the hotel about the family and about her mama. I wondered if she had been planning to write a novel with the hotel as a setting. Maybe she still was but it would be her mama’s story. Or, she could have been trying to blackmail them.”

“Ross Huxton did die just a couple of months ago.”

“Maybe that’s what spurred her on. All that money going to his children, who wouldn’t want a breath of scandal, especially not about the newly departed Ross Huxton.”

“Ashley’s father?”

“Could be.”

Mark stood abruptly. “I need to think about this and do some digging. And I want you to stay out of it. Do not, I repeat, do not contact any members of the family. The next thing you know, you’ll be sued for harassment. Promise me, Lizzie.”

She nodded.

“Show me your hands and say it verbally.”

She did as told.

He gave her a quick kiss, grabbed his hat and opened the door. He glanced back at her before leaving. “Good work.”

Lizzie walked over to the front window and watched him back his Jeep out of the driveway just in time to see Lavenia pull up in front of Nathaniel’s place. She felt a short stab of guilt. Aside from asking questions at the library about the garden club, she hadn’t done anything to try to track down the malicious gossiper threatening to spread rumors about Nathaniel. Mark wanted her to back off the Dixon case; maybe she should take his advice, for now, and try to track down the garden club membership list.

Although she was reluctant to ask Lavenia and possibly have to admit she hadn’t done much yet, she knew that had to be her next move. Not only would she know the members, she’d also be attuned to any other women in the group who had their eyes on Nathaniel. A woman in love can sense those things.

Lizzie flung open the door and ran across the lawn, catching Lavenia as she exited her car.

“Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you.”

Lavenia looked over at Nathaniel’s house. “Is it about . . . you know? I don’t want to alert Nathaniel and he’d probably think it awfully strange if I went to your place first.”

Lizzie nodded.

“I’m just dropping of this bag of preserves I’d promised him. He knows I won’t stay long because I have a piano student coming at four.” She glanced at her watch. “Perhaps we could meet at the Cup ’n Choc for a quick coffee in about twenty minutes? I really could use one.”

“Fine,” Lizzie answered. “I’ll see you then. I’ll just walk down the block so it doesn’t look like I came out specifically to see you, in case he’s watching.”

Lavenia smiled a secretive smile. “And I’ll be sure to keep him away from the windows so you can turn around and come right back.”

Lizzie had already been waiting at a corner table for ten minutes, taking her time enjoying an iced cappuccino, when Lavenia walked in. After ordering hot tea at the counter, Lavenia carried it over to the table.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Lizzie said.

“No, thank you, my dear. I appreciate your help and your discretion. Now, what is it you want to know?”

“First of all, I’d like a copy of the membership list of the Ashton Corners Garden Club.”

“Certainly. Why don’t I email you a copy?”

Lizzie appreciated this tech-savvy woman, probably in her mid to late seventies. “I was also wondering if you’d noticed any women at the garden club who’d been flirting with Nathaniel prior to the two of you going out?”

“You think it’s someone from the club? I hate to think that. We’ve had some very good meetings over the years and everyone seems friendly enough.”

“I could be way off base but it’s a place to start. No stone unturned and all that.”

Lavenia smiled tentatively. “Hmm. Well, Ursula Nesbitt certainly had her eye on him at one point, just as she’s eyed every male who walks in a room, even if he needs a cane to do so.” She chuckled and Lizzie smiled. “I don’t think she ever asked him out but I could check with Nathaniel. If she did, I’ll let you know.”

“Good. Anyone else?”

“Not so overtly but Maude Drummond and Bernice Waller always are talking about the men in their lives and eyeing the poor souls in the club. Not that that necessarily means anything.”

“This is good information. And who knows where it will lead. By the way, have you received any more calls?”

“A couple of hang-ups when Nathaniel has been over. You don’t think it’s the same person, do you?”

Lizzie shrugged. “I’m not sure what to think at the moment. It’s a good sign, though, not receiving any more threats.”
Unless the culprit’s gearing up for the grand finale, the unveiling to the world.

They finished their drinks, chatting about Lavenia’s students. She’d been teaching piano for over forty years, but at this point, had only a couple of students still with her. “I’m so proud of them. They’re both hard workers and even if neither wants to pursue a career in music, it will stand them good in the future.”

“I know,” Lizzie said. “I had about four years of piano and wish now that I had continued.”

Lavenia patted her hand. “I could take on another student, my dear.”

Lizzie smiled. Something to ponder. Lizzie Turner, touring concert pianist.
Not.

She checked her email when she got home, having stopped by the Piggly Wiggly for some fresh chicken breasts. She was delighted that Lavenia had taken the time to send the list. She printed it out and studied it while grilling the chicken and pulling the remainder of a three-lentil salad out of the fridge. She planned to make a green salad and use up some of the pears she’d bought earlier in the week, along with dried cranberries, pecan and feta cheese.

She found the names and addresses she was looking for but what she needed was a pitch. She couldn’t very well go up to them and ask if they were threatening to spread a rumor that Nathaniel had killed his wife. But maybe she could ask if they’d heard anything about someone spreading rumors about all the eligible men. If taken off guard, surely she could spot the liar.

That was a plan. But maybe she could do better.