Cover Story (11 page)

Maggie sighed. “There's only one thing I can do, find the real killer.”

50% OFF MURDER
—JOSIE BELLE

L
izzie had barely gotten the dinner dishes washed and put away when the phone rang. She saw Stephanie's name listed and immediately hoped the baby was okay.

“I'm sorry to bother you, Lizzie.” Stephanie paused so long Lizzie wondered if she should have said more than it was fine.

“I'm not sure but I think someone's following me.”

“What makes you think that?” Lizzie turned off the radio and sat down.

“It could just be my imagination. I don't really know for sure.”

“Tell me all that's happened,” Lizzie coaxed.

She heard Stephanie take a deep breath. “Well, I'm doing a month of noon to seven
P.M.
shifts at the Oasis Diner. I sort of like them because I have all morning with Wendy and I'm there to put her to bed at night, although I sure do miss her in the afternoon.” She sighed. “I knew this wasn't going to be easy but it breaks my heart to leave for work. But it has to be done. I need to earn a living.”

Lizzie heard the resolve in her voice. “Go on.”

“Well the last couple of Monday nights there's been this old black pickup truck parked outside the diner. The first time it happened, the truck followed me when I walked home. It didn't come up close, just stayed back, real creepy-like. When I looked out the window, it was parked across the street. Last night, he was there again only he didn't follow me this time. But he was parked outside my apartment building when I looked outside a little later.”

“Are you sure it's the same truck? There must be a lot of those around.”

“I know, that's what I keep saying to myself. But I can see the outline of someone sitting in it whenever a car passes by. He stays inside it until I turn out my lights. Then he leaves. I'll tell you, it's really creeping me out.”

Lizzie thought for a moment. Two times did not a stalker make. On the other hand, maybe it did. What did she know about that psyche?

“Do you have any ideas who it might be? Maybe baby Wendy's father?”

Stephanie drew in her breath sharply. “I had wondered. It's something he could pull but I'm certain he'd make sure I knew it was him. He'd have the power then.”

“Hmmm,” Lizzie said. Not very helpful, but she couldn't think of anything else.

“How about calling the police?”

“Oh, I couldn't do that. What if it is Wendy's daddy? I couldn't have her grow up knowing I'd called the police on him.”

Why not? Especially if he's done something wrong.
“Well how about if I mention it to Mark on an unofficial basis?”

“I don't think so, Lizzie. Thank you anyway. He'd then feel obligated to do something, I'm certain. Maybe it's just my imagination. I read an awful lot of mysteries, after all.” She ended in a small laugh that turned into a whimper.

“Okay then, how about if I park in front of your apartment building next Monday night for when you get off work? I'll see if he shows up and we'll try to figure out who it is, maybe confront him?”

“I don't know about confronting him but I'd surely be grateful if you'd be there. Maybe you could just get his license number or something?”

Lizzie stood and walked over to where Edam sat staring at his empty food dish. She pulled a few dried treats out of the cupboard and he dug in.

“That's a good idea,” she said, wanting to put Stephanie's mind at ease. “I'll be there for sure. Now, you try not to worry about it anymore, you hear?”

“Thank you, Lizzie. I'm feeling better already.”

• • •

T
he next morning, Lizzie had just made it to the end of her street when another runner overtook her. She stopped in astonishment as Drew Jackson started pacing her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I'm a runner, myself. I was hoping you could show me some good routes, maybe over toward Tallapoosa Street.” He grinned and started running at a faster pace, looking back at her until she caught up.

“Not this morning. I'm heading into town.”

“Oh. Tallapoosa didn't prove to be a good choice?”

“You could say that,” she hedged.

“Oh, there's a lot I could say about that. How about we get a good workout first?” He took off in the direction she'd been going, ramping up his speed. It took her until the end of the block to catch up to him and pass him by, although he looked like he hadn't even built up a sweat. His long legs carried him easily in a loping stride and the black stretch bike shorts showed off his muscular build.

She continued on her own route, not bothering to check if he was still with her when he fell back several times. By the time she'd finished the circuit and arrived home again, Jackson was by her side. She almost stopped in her tracks at the sight of Mark's Jeep parked in her driveway but Mark had already opened her front door and stood out on the porch.

“Hey, Lizzie. Special Agent Jackson,” he said, his voice not giving away anything.

Lizzie could tell he wasn't thrilled seeing Jackson at her side.
Jealous?
The thought, brief as it was, pleased her, although she'd not really thought of Jackson as romantic material.

“Chief,” Jackson acknowledged. “I was interested in Ms. Turner's running habits.” He stopped at the bottom stair and did a hamstring stretch. “Especially seeing as yesterday she told me the reason she was at Cabe Wilson's house was to scope out a new running route.”

Mark looked at Lizzie, who'd stopped just inches from him. He looked even less pleased than a few moments before.

“Would either of you officers like some coffee?” Lizzie asked as she continued into the house, leaving the door open behind her.

Mark was at her heels.

Jackson followed. “Some java would be great.”

Mark spoke as she made the preparations. “Just what were you doing at Wilson's, Lizzie? I thought I'd told you to stay out of this case.”

Lizzie knew she couldn't talk her way out of this one. “I got the distinct impression yesterday, after talking to the two special agents”—she paused and looked directly at Jackson—“that Bob might just stay in the prime suspect position. They seemed unwilling to hear any other explanations.”

“And you thought you were the only one who would work at clearing Bob?” Mark asked.

Lizzie felt her cheeks glow hot. “Perhaps not, but you do have two murders on your plate.”

“And a fully competent police department.” He accepted the mug of coffee she handed over and sighed. “Lizzie, it's dangerous. As you said, there have been two murders. Just keep out of it, okay?”

Jackson came to her rescue. “Perhaps she could be of some help, Chief. Maybe we could use her as bait.”

Lizzie tried not to sound as shocked as she felt. “Bait? Thanks a lot.”

Jackson grinned. Lizzie caught on. He'd been teasing her. Mark caught on also.

“I don't have time to debate this any further, Lizzie. I have to meet with the mayor and give him an update.” Mark finished his coffee and then leaned toward her and gave her a healthy kiss.

Lizzie's heart skipped a beat even though she knew the kiss was partially for Jackson's benefit. Mark was definitely alert if not full-out jealous.

“Can I give you a lift?” Mark asked Jackson.

“No, thanks. My car's parked around the corner.” Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “I didn't want to spook Ms. Turner until I saw which direction she was headed.”

“I'll walk you out, then,” Mark said.

Jackson looked questioningly at him, then finished his coffee and thanked Lizzie before following Mark out the door.

Lizzie sat down to finish her mug. What had just gone on here between the two of them? Well, she was pretty sure Mark was showing that jealous streak again. Like last fall when Derek Alton had been shot in her living room. She had gone out to dinner with him and had been hanging mistletoe when he'd been shot at her house, and Mark had been none too pleased.

She really didn't think that Mark was the possessive, jealous type. She certainly hoped not. He definitely had nothing to worry about, especially where Jackson was concerned. And even though it had been Jackson who outed her on the Wilson visit, his presence had also spared her a much lengthier blast about keeping out of the investigation.

She finished the dregs of her coffee and jogged upstairs to shower and get dressed. The cats sat on the bed watching while she chose a short cotton cream-colored skirt and topped it off with a mossy green sleeveless cotton blouse. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and added pewter hoop earrings.

“There,” she told her image in the mirror and the cats, “I'm ready to do a little sleuthing. But don't tell Mark.” She gave Edam a long, slow stroke along his back, and Brie a scratching behind the ears.

She also had some book signings to line up and thought she'd arrange them in person.
Should we really be going ahead with all this?
She gave her head a shake, trying to dispel the unease.
Treat them just like the launch. Set them up and cancel if necessary
. Besides, it would give her a chance to ask around about Riverwell Press. As the one and only publisher in town, Orwell Rivers must have had some contact with the outlets that sold his books. Perhaps someone knew something about his other business dealings. It was all she could think of at this point. Follow the books.

First on her list was the Winn-Dixie at the corner of Broward and Decker, just around the corner from where the Book Bin had been. Actually, the bookstore still sat there, books on shelves, but doors locked and windows papered over. She wondered what would become of it.

Lizzie asked to talk to the manager, and after a short wait, a slightly less glamorous version of Dolly Parton appeared. “I'm Eugenia Killick, the manager. You wanted to see me?” she asked, holding out her hand.

Lizzie shook it, introduced herself and got right down to business. “I'm a member of the Ashton Corners Mystery Readers and Cheese Straws Society. And we'd be so pleased if you would consider hosting a book signing for a local author, Theodora Coldicutt.”

“Teensy? You've gotta be kidding, girl.” Eugenia's face lit up and she started laughing. “You mean Teensy Perkins Coldicutt has actually gone and written a book? I'll bet it's a hot romance. I'd heard she'd moved back to town. Wow, imagine that. Of course I'll hold a signing here. Where can I get hold of the book? It'll be a blast.”

Lizzie felt swept up by the enthusiasm. “That's great, Miz Killick.”

“Oh, for heaven's sakes, girl, call me Eugenia. Now, when do you want to have this event?” She turned and looked around the store. “And where should we have it? I've never had something like this in the store before but I've done lots of demonstrations . . . Resolve, frozen tacos, and the like. You tell me what I need to do.”

“Can we set a date first?”

“Sure can, girl. Come right with me back to my office. I'll grab my calendar. I think this should be good for sales in the store, too. Teensy Coldicutt. I can't get over it.”

They agreed to hold the signing on the Saturday following the launch, late morning as that was often the busiest time of the day at the store. After a walk around the store, they both agreed that placing Teensy at a table to the right of the entry doorway would work best. The display case at that location could be easily moved.

“And I'll be most pleased to provide a cake and cold drinks for our patrons, at no charge. Make it like a party.” She clapped her hands like a little girl and her bleached blonde curls jumped in time. “Now, can you give me the details of how to order the book?” She led the way back to her office.

“Molly Mathews has the books stored at her place,” Lizzie explained. “They were published by Riverwell Press, you know.”

“Oh my Lordy, that poor Orwell Rivers. Who would have gone and done something like that to such a quiet, retiring fellow? There's no way he could have made any enemies.”

“How well did you know him?” Lizzie asked, pleased at the opening.

“I've known him all my life but not really well. You know how it is around here.” She straightened the hem of the pale blue cotton vest she wore over a formfitting short-sleeved black T-shirt.

“Did you know or hear anything about his business?”

She chewed the bottom inside of her mouth while she gave it some thought. “Now, I can't really say because I didn't hear it direct from Orwell but there was talk that he had some financial problems a few years back. I know there was worry because him being the only printer around hereabouts, some of the smaller businesses would have to figure out something else for their sales flyers and such. But that all blew over in a few months so I guess there wasn't much to it to begin with. You know how rumors are and all that.”

Lizzie nodded. Oh yeah . . . she knew. “Well, thanks so much, Miz Killick. I mean Eugenia. I'll get back to you a couple of days before the signing, just to confirm.”

Lizzie felt buoyed by her first success into the promotional world as she drove over to the Piggly Wiggly on Ulysses to line up another signing. The manager, Vernon Unger, was less excited but willing to hold a signing in his store. They settled on the Saturday afternoon a week later than the Winn-Dixie signing.

“Mr. Unger, did you know Orwell Rivers at Riverwell Press?” Lizzie finally asked.

“Yup, yup. We were brothers in the Knights of Columbus, you know.” His blue striped bow tie bobbed along with his Adam's apple as he talked. Straight black hair parted on the left side and tucked back behind his ears ended just below them.
Rather lengthy for someone obviously no longer young
, Lizzie thought. His generous mouth looked like it smiled a lot. although his eyes lacked the same warmth. “Can't believe what happened to him. He wouldn't hurt a fly. He didn't even see any action in Nam because of his bum knee so he went upstate and worked in a steel mill that made military supplies. Is he the one who published Miz Coldicutt's book?”