Cover Story (12 page)

“Yes, he was. I understand he'd had some hard times at the business so it's lucky she was able to get it published there.”

“Hard times. Yup, yup.” He shook his head, in agreement and distress. “Orwell didn't have much of a business sense but just enough to keep that place ticking by. In fact, I think that he started the publishing end of the business just in time to keep his place afloat. You know how it works, don't you? The writer pays half the costs up front. They split the royalties fifty-fifty is what I think he said. Anyways, it's probably what saved the place.” He shook his head again. “Shame about what happened to him.”

Lizzie agreed and then set off to the next stop on her list, the main branch of the Ashton Corners Public Library. Tradition had held out and the library was still housed in the original Carnegie Library building, built in the late 1800s opposite the town square.

Lizzie had loved reading for as long as she could remember and would often spend all Saturday afternoon tucked away in a corner of the children's section on an overstuffed chair, rereading
Charlotte's Web
or
Anne of Green Gables
. Those were the times when her mama was seen to by her friends, some of them cleaning the house, another doing the ironing, a couple of them caring for Lizzie's needs like mending her clothes or giving her room a thorough washing down. Then they'd all have tea and sweets together, just like old times, before her mama had become sick. Lizzie loved being a part of the ritual at first but then realized this was a good time to be on her own, doing what she wanted. And what she most wanted those days was to read.

Her good friend Paige would often go with her and they'd read aloud in exaggerated whispers parts of the books they'd chosen. Too often that resulted in giggles that ramped up into laughter and got them stern looks from the librarians.

All those memories flooded through Lizzie's brain as she set foot through the main door. The library was surprisingly full for a Wednesday, but that might have been because of the air-conditioning. The goose bumps on Lizzie's arms attested to it working quite well. She realized immediately that the sound level reflected the number of users. Gone were the days of whispers and moving about stealthily. Fortunately. She walked across the tiled floor to the far corner where a small office had the only closed door in the place and was labeled “Librarian.” Lizzie knocked and was asked to enter.

Isabel Fox, the chief librarian who had started her job the day Lizzie started high school, looked up from her desk and smiled. Lizzie had had many dealings with Ms. Fox over the years as she relied on the public library for numerous books the school board couldn't manage with its limited budget. They'd also spent many hours brainstorming ideas on how to get children more interested in reading.

“How wonderful to see you, Lizzie. Would you like a glass of sweet tea?” Fox asked, getting up from her desk and walking over to the nearby countertop with a tray with a pitcher and glasses sitting on it.

“I'd love that. I hadn't realized how sticky it was getting outside until I stepped into the library.”

Fox laughed. “I know. It's always a shock at the end of the day when I leave this cooled bubble. Now, what brings you here? Are you into work plans already?”

Lizzie shook her head. “Not as much as I should be. Any day now. I've got another role this summer. I'm helping a local resident, Teensy Coldicutt, to publicize her new book. Have you heard of her?”

Fox sat back in her chair and considered for a moment before answering. “No, I'm sure I haven't. Would I have met her at something or other?”

“Probably not. She just moved back to Ashton Corners at the beginning of summer after living away for decades. But her book is published by Riverwell Press.”

Fox pushed back a stray piece of hair from her face. She still wore her hair in the same style Lizzie remembered, pulled back and wound into a chignon, although it was now gray. She couldn't weigh more than the 120 pounds Lizzie did. And as usual, she wore a dress, this one a floral pink cotton sundress with a white knit cardigan, and white sandals. “Oh, that was such a sad thing about Mr. Rivers. Did they find out who murdered him?”

“Not yet. It was an awful thing to happen here in town. But on the upside, we were able to get hold of copies of Teensy's book and Molly Mathews is determined to get them all sold.”

Fox laughed. “I'll just bet she succeeds. What can I do to help?”

“I was hoping you'd ask. How about hosting a reading one evening?”

“Certainly. I'd be really pleased to do that. I think that's an important mandate for any library, to highlight local talent. I think September would be a better time to hold an event than summer, though. How about I email some suggested dates, once I've checked our calendar, and you can let me know what suits best?”

“That sounds excellent.”

“Do you think Miz Mathews would sell me some copies for the library?”

Lizzie smiled. “She'd sell you a whole box full if she could. But, would we be able to sell copies of the book at the reading?”

“Sure, I don't see why not. You'll have to handle it totally, though.”

“Not a problem.”

“What's the title and plot?” Fox took a drink of her tea and leaned back in her chair.

“
The Winds of Desire
and to hear Teensy, I mean Theodora, describe it, it's a contemporary
Gone with the Wind
.” She left it at that.

“Aah. I hope she does well with it.”

Lizzie finished her tea and stood to go. “I won't take up any more of your time right now. I'll ask Molly to call you and settle the details about the library's copies, shall I?”

“Please do. Will you have a poster or something I can put up on display?”

“For sure. I'll drop it off as soon as it's ready. Thanks again.”

Lizzie left feeling pretty pleased with herself. Three for three. Maybe she should consider doing this as a part-time job all year round. Although, it wouldn't take that long for all the venues in Ashton Corners to be exhausted.

Next on her agenda, returning home and getting the guest room ready for Andie to move in to later in the evening, and possibly time to worry about Bob and the counterfeit connection.

The doorbell rang at exactly eight. Andie stood there, weighed down with two backpacks, her laptop in a carry bag, and a small cage with a gerbil in it.

“Uh, hey, Lizzie. Is now okay?”

Lizzie was eyeing the gerbil cage and nodded. “I really could have picked you up, you know.”

“Uh, yeah, no problem. My daddy actually dropped me off.”

Lizzie looked toward the driveway. He hadn't bothered to stay or come say hi. She tried not to let her face show what she was thinking.

“Let me take some things from you,” she said instead.

Andie passed over her laptop and held the cage out a ways. “Uh, I sort of forgot to mention Bieber. He's a gerbil and he's real quiet-like. I'll just keep him in my room with me. You won't even know he's here.”

Lizzie grimaced. “You'd better make sure you keep the door closed at all times. I think my cats would be really interested in him. Come on upstairs and we'll get you settled.”

Lizzie left Andie to sort out her things and went to fix them each a glass of tea. When Andie joined her about ten minutes later, she held out her glass to toast. “Here's to a comfortable stay.”

Andie grinned. “It will be fun. You'll see.”

The grin was infectious. Lizzie returned it and crossed her fingers.

“Police work wouldn't be possible without coffee,” Wallander said. “No work would be possible without coffee.”

ONE STEP BEHIND
—HENNING MANKELL

L
izzie eyed the ringing telephone on the table beside her bed with alarm. Still groggy, she tried not to jump to the conclusion it was bad news about her mama. The cats leapt out of bed as she rolled over to snatch the receiver.

“Lizzie, I'm so sorry if I woke you, honey.” Molly's worried tone got Lizzie's full attention. She glanced at the clock radio at the same moment the radio burst into song. “Spring” from Vivaldi's
Four Seasons
, if she wasn't mistaken.

“No, it's all right, Molly. This is about the time I usually get up. What's wrong?”

“Nothing, everything . . . oh, I'm just being silly I guess, but I can't stop worrying that Bob's in deep trouble here and what's to become of him? I didn't get much sleep last night and I finally just felt I had to talk to someone.”

Lizzie let out the breath she'd been holding in. Bob. Hmmm. “Molly, I know it's really hard to just sit by and watch the FBI take over but there's nothing else we can do.” She didn't want to get Molly involved in the little bit of extra digging she'd been doing. Who knew where that could lead?

“I know you're right. But there must be something.”

“How about if I come by later this morning and we'll talk, see what we can figure out?”

“Oh, would you, honey? I'd so appreciate that. I'll have something tasty waiting for you.”

It didn't take Lizzie long to get dressed for her run. No sound from Andie's room, although Lizzie hadn't expected her guest would be up and at 'em real early. After feeding the cats, she peered out the front door and checked both directions carefully, looking for any hint of Special Agent Drew Jackson. Seeing none, she decided to chance it and left the house, continuing at a brisk pace until she was down the street four doors, then notched it up to a jog. By the time she'd done fifty minutes through town and along the river heading back home, she had to admit to a little disappointment in not meeting Jackson.

She'd spent most of the previous evening trying to figure out how the counterfeiting was tied in to the two murders, or at least if it tied in with Cabe Wilson's death. It must have. She was pretty certain that Orwell Rivers had to have been a part of it and that could be the reason he had been killed. How could he not know what was going on right on his own premises? Had Riverwell Press been strictly the distributor for the bogus bills or had they been printed in house? Not that it really mattered when it came down to Bob's involvement, because that was zilch, regardless of where the operation took place. Of that she was certain.

It was entirely possible that Cabe Wilson had been involved in a part of it, though, given his criminal record and the fact that some money had been found on his body. But why was he at Bob's house? Had his body been dumped there in order to implicate Bob, and if so, who had it in for him after all this time to set him up like that?

Had Special Agent Jackson joined her this morning, Lizzie had planned to get some answers from him. Maybe that was still possible, she thought, walking the final block to her house. Maybe she should track him down and just ask.

She glanced up at Nathaniel's door as she passed and it opened at the same time. He waved her over, a mug of coffee in his hand.

“Won't you join me, Lizzie? I've got freshly baked cinnamon buns.”

She started salivating at the thought, remembering that Molly had promised her treats today, too, but readily agreed.

“Let's take it out on the patio,” he said, leading the way. “It's already up in the low eighties. Going to be a scorcher again today.”

“Could I start with a tall glass of water, please?”

“Of course, my dear. Just help yourself.” He had set the two mugs and a plate of cinnamon buns on the green wicker table by the time Lizzie joined him.

“Lavenia and I are going for a drive over to Alexander City and then have a picnic on the way back at Highwater Park,” Nathaniel said.

“Sounds lovely.” Lizzie took a large bite of a bun and slowly chewed it, enjoying every morsel. “I haven't been there in a long time. Is that carousel still in at the amusement park?”

Nathaniel chuckled. “I'll say. I'd have thought it would have fallen apart by now. You know, when I was a small lad, they were just putting it together. Brought it all the way from Germany. That was the biggest attraction in these parts for decades until we got our own smaller version in Ashton Corners. It was a lot less elaborate, too, but it didn't require a long drive to get to it.”

“I used to love riding on the one in town when I was younger. That and the Ferris wheel, of course. I remember there used to be long lineups for it every day of the Spring Fair.”

“It was always thus,” Nathaniel agreed and took another sip. “You know, it was a really popular site when I was growing up, even more so than in your day. We'd be over there every Saturday, a gang of us, spending our allowances on rides. I remember that Theodora and Molly and the rest of them used to really wind us up. Theodora would sidle up and slip something extra to the young lad manning the gate at the Tilt-A-Whirl. Always got the girls in before the rest of us. Huh. I hadn't thought of that in years. Theodora and Orwell Rivers.”

“Orwell Rivers. What do you mean?”

“Well, it was his papa who owned most of the rides. Orwell used to work weekends there, doing all manner of jobs. But I suspect he liked being keeper of the gate as it turned into a nice little moneymaking business for him. Always on the lookout for a scheme, he was.”

“I didn't realize Teensy knew him back them. And I didn't realize you knew him so well.”

Nathaniel chuckled. “I'd plum forgotten but I didn't really know him up close and personal-like. We were older, the lads and I, so we didn't really talk to the kid. Just observed. Now, have another cinnamon bun.”

Lizzie shook her head. “I'd love to but have to practice some restraint here.” She glanced at the watch on Nathaniel's wrist and managed to read it upside down. “I also need to get a move on. Thank you for the coffee and delicious bun.”

“My pleasure. I'll just pack up the rest of these for our picnic.”

“By the way, I should mention that you'll probably be seeing Andie Mason coming and going a lot over the next couple of weeks. She's staying with me until her folks return from a vacation.”

Nathaniel chuckled. “That should make for an interesting time.”

“You're telling me.”

Lizzie gave a small wave and headed home for a quick shower. She figured the cinnamon bun had doubled as breakfast, particularly with another calorie-laden stop coming up. Still no sound from Andie's room. She did a quick check of her email, which didn't take long as there was nothing needing a response, wrote a brief note for Andie and left for Molly's.

“I'm so glad you're able to come by and I do apologize again for such an early phone call,” Molly said, giving Lizzie a quick hug. “And I'm sorry, I didn't stop to think about your houseguest. I assume Andrea arrived and settled in last night? I hope I didn't wake her.”

“I think there's little chance of that,” Lizzie said with a smile. She could see the tension in her friend's face. They'd have to figure out some action in order to set Molly's mind at ease.

“I was talking to Nathaniel this morning and he mentioned that Teensy had known Orwell Rivers when you were all younger. In fact, he told me about the lineups at the Tilt-A-Whirl ride at the Spring Fair.”

Molly chuckled. “Oh, Teensy was quite notorious there for a while. She'd stoop to any level in order to get what she wanted, and fortunately for the rest of us, it usually included all of the Jitterbugs.”

“Is that why she went to Mr. Rivers to have her novel published?”

“It seems reasonable even though I highly doubt she kept in touch with him in all that time away.”

There seemed to be a lot of assuming going on, Lizzie thought. Time to replace some of that with facts. She followed Molly into the kitchen and sat at the place set for her at the banquette.

“I've been wondering to what degree Rivers was involved in the counterfeiting ring,” she said.

“Yes, that question's been on my mind, too,” Molly answered. “I hate to think ill of the poor man but it's the counterfeiting that seems to be at the root of all this business, isn't it?”

Lizzie nodded. “The questions are, was Rivers the mastermind or just a player, did they use his photocopying machine or just his distribution system and was Cabe Wilson part of the scheme?”

“I can't understand why someone as well-known and respected as Orwell would be involved, though.”

“Money. They always say, follow the money.”

“You're so right. It's similar to Agatha Christie's
The Secret of Chimneys
.”

“How so?”

“Well, she has Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard investigate what turns out to be two murders, a case of blackmail and some missing jewels. Different events but all tied in together at the end.” Molly paused as she passed a plate of almond peach muffins to Lizzie. “And money, at the root of it all.”

“I think it wouldn't hurt to find out something about Rivers's financial circumstances but unfortunately, I can't just access his bank statements. I wonder if Mark's done so? Of course, he wouldn't tell me. Or would he?”

“Knowing our police chief, I think it's better you didn't make him aware of our interest.”

Lizzie smiled. “Why, Molly. You have a sneaky side, too.”

“Of course I do, honey. I think a good place to start is with Teensy herself. Maybe she does know a bit more than she's willing to share.”

“You think she'd hide something from you?” Lizzie asked, somewhat surprised.

“Honey, I know so.”

• • •

L
izzie eased her car into the driveway at the side of Teensy's rental home on Lee Road. As Molly joined her at the front steps, they could see the front curtain move. Molly waved and a minute later Teensy opened the front door.

“My goodness, what are y'all doing out and about so early?” Teensy asked, glancing down at her orange floral dressing gown and yellow marabou slippers.

“Early? Why it's almost noon, Teensy. But that is early for you, isn't it? I'm sorry if we're disturbing you but this is important,” Molly said, giving her a kiss on the cheek then walking right past toward the kitchen.

“You go right ahead and mock me, Mopsy Mathews. These broad shoulders can take it.”

Lizzie gave a shrug and a smile and followed Molly. Teensy caught up to them, her heels clacking along the slate floor in the hallway. She slipped in front of them as they stood just inside the door of the kitchen that was a circa 1970's U-shaped design trying to look updated. The dark maple cupboards and green laminate counters stood out against the white walls; the stainless steel appliances shined in the morning brightness. A glassed-in sunroom was off the kitchen and the door into it stood open. Lizzie spotted a mug and bowl of cereal on the round country table off to the right of the room.

“I'm sorry if we've interrupted your breakfast,” Lizzie began, “but we just had some things we wanted to talk to you about.”

Teensy smiled. “Of course, sugar. Come join me for some coffee. Y'all have things about the launch to discuss?”

Molly shook her head but Lizzie added, “Not the launch but I do have news about three book signings I've lined up for you.”

Teensy clapped her hands and probably would have done a small jig if it hadn't been for the tricky-looking slippers. “Oh, you're simply wonderful, sugar. I'm so looking forward to getting out there to the readers with my book. Come along, y'all, and have a seat.”

Lizzie and Molly sat in two of the remaining chairs at the table and waited while Teensy brought them out mugs of coffee. “Or would y'all rather have something cool? Tea, perhaps?”

“I'm still in need of caffeine,” Lizzie said and gratefully took the mug.

“This is fine,” Molly said. “Now, Teensy. I just got to reminiscing with Lizzie this morning about the Tilt-A-Whirl at the Spring Fair and I remember how you used to get us up to the front of the waiting line each and every time Orwell Rivers was taking tickets. Do you remember?”

Teensy glanced outside to her right and smiled. “Yes, I did have a knack for getting us special treatment now and then. Was it Orwell, though? I can't rightly remember.”

Molly frowned. “Of course you remember, Teensy. You've got one of the best memories in the county. Was that why you went to Orwell to get your book published?”

Teensy looked at Molly. “Why no, Mopsy. I went to him because he's the only printer here in the region that does this co-publishing I was telling you about. Why does it matter anyway? And I'd already decided it was time to move back to Ashton Corners.”

Lizzie jumped in. “We were just trying to figure out how and why Orwell Rivers was involved in the counterfeiting ring. Do you think he needed the money?” She wrapped a lock of her hair around her finger and played with it.

“Don't we all?” Teensy said with a laugh, then sobered. “I really have no idea what his financial status was. I only met with him a few times. But he always was on the lookout for ways to make money, as I recall. Remember in high school, Mopsy, he used to sell old test papers?”

Molly started to shake her head then paused. “Oh my gosh. You're right. I'd forgotten about that. It was Orwell and Junior Logan. They used to search through the garbage cans at the back of the school at key times of the year. That was in the days before shredders, of course.” She started laughing and Teensy joined in.