Cover Story (13 page)

Molly wiped her eyes. “For all of his shyness—I guess we'd have called it nerdiness if we had that word in those days—Orwell really garnered the admiration of the entire sophomore class that year.”

Teensy looked pointedly at their cups. “Would y'all like some more coffee?”

Lizzie and Molly shook their heads in unison.

“So, Lizzie, tell me all about the signings.”

• • •

B
ack at Molly's place, Lizzie asked what was troubling her. She'd been awfully quiet during the drive home.

Molly sighed. “I'm not really certain but I think Teensy's either hiding something or she's worried and not willing to trust me.”

“How can you tell?”

“She was twirling a piece of her hair when talking about Orwell. I haven't seen her do that since we were real young and she was trying to cover something up. Often, something she didn't want the rest of us to know about and that used to make me so mad. Here we were sisters of a sort, and we were supposed to share all our deepest secrets. Well, I think she's at it again.”

Lizzie wondered if Molly was reading too much into it. She'd not noticed anything. Of course, she hadn't known Teensy all that long.

“What should we do about it?”

“I don't know.” Molly shook her head. “She's stubborn and won't tell us a thing until she's ready to, that I do know.”

“She did that when she said she'd not seen Orwell in years, didn't she?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wonder if the office gal from Riverwell Press might be able to help with that?” Lizzie was thinking out loud. “I noticed her in the back room when Teensy and I picked up the books.”

Molly tilted her head, a big smile on her face. “That's my girl.”

Serendipity. Look for something, find something else, and realize that what you've found is more suited to your needs than what you thought you were looking for.

LAWRENCE BLOCK

L
izzie had just walked into the front office at Riverwell Press, the door still open behind her, when she heard a car pull into the parking lot. She glanced outside and cringed when she saw the car with the two FBI agents come to a stop beside her car. She quickly shut the door and looked at the girl behind the desk. The nameplate beside the phone read Dana-Lynn Norton.

“Hey, Dana-Lynn. I'm Lizzie Turner. I was here the other day picking up the Coldicutt books.”

The girl smiled hesitantly, showing off the tips of her braces. Her short blonde hair looked like she'd used a lot of product to tame it. A dark green sleeveless blouse topped a pair of brown-striped Bermuda shorts.

“Oh yeah, I saw you along with Mr. Rivers's lawyer.” She smiled.

Lizzie glanced out the window to check the location of the two special agents. “I was hoping to talk to you in private but I see we're about to be joined by the FBI.”

The door opened and Jackson walked into the room followed by Ormes. “I thought it looked like your car, Ms. Turner,” Jackson said. He looked over and smiled at Dana-Lynn. “We meet again, Ms. Norton.”

Dana-Lynn giggled and her face turned beet red. “So we do.” She lowered her lashes then slowly looked back up at the agent. “Can I get y'all both something? Some iced tea? I brought a thermos since it gets so hot in here without the air-conditioning on. I think Mr. Rivers would have been mighty unhappy about that. The humidity is not good for the books in the warehouse.”

“Why is it off?” Lizzie asked, curious.

“That's Mr. Emerson's doing. He's trying to keep the bills down and he said there's not much of value left in the warehouse anyway.”

Lizzie thought Teensy would take issue with that, since there were a few cartons of her book still warehoused there.

Jackson smiled at Dana-Lynn. “I'd love some tea if you're sure you can spare some.”

Lizzie groaned inwardly as Dana-Lynn knocked over her in-basket, sending several sheets of paper airborne in her haste to get over to the thermos on the desk. Jackson winked at Lizzie.
Poor girl. She has a crush on the special agent and he knows it.

“So tell me, Ms. Turner, what brings you here today?” Jackson asked. He wore a light gray summer suit but had loosened his blue-striped tie to cope with the heat. His dark sunglasses had been pushed up on top of his head.

Lizzie thought quickly. “I've managed to arrange some book signings for Teensy Coldicutt so I thought I should check on the remaining cartons of her books here.” That sounded like a good idea. She'd better do it before leaving. “And what about you, Special Agent?”

“Just doing my job, ma'am,” Jackson answered. “Trying to tie up all the loose ends. Following the money, as it were.”

Me, too.
“And would you care to share what those loose ends might be?”

“Now, I couldn't do that, you being a civilian and all.”

Ormes, who had been wandering around the office peering in corners and on top of counters, finally spoke. “Especially with you being a suspect and all.”

“What?” Lizzie asked indignantly. “I was the one who found the stash of money, remember?”

“My point exactly. What better way to try to look innocent. Supposedly ‘finding the money.'”

Lizzie bristled at that. She could almost see the quotation marks.

Ormes continued, “Turn it in. Walk off scot-free.”

Lizzie noticed Dana-Lynn had stopped in midaction of pouring the tea. “What money?” she asked.

Lizzie answered before Ormes could stop her. “You know, the counterfeit money your boss was producing.”

Dana-Lynn looked surprised, but of course, she could be a good actress. Lizzie knew nothing about Dana-Lynn Norton. Perhaps she should find someone who did know her and might shed some light on just how wide-eyed and innocent she really was. Lizzie looked from one agent to the other. Ormes glared at his partner. Jackson nodded and opened his mouth to speak.

“All right. I'm leaving.” She suddenly remembered her excuse. “I just need to check how many of the Coldicutt books are in the warehouse before I leave.” She walked toward the door to the warehouse and Ormes moved in front of her.

“Maybe she should check it out now,” Jackson suggested. “Save her having to come back here another time.”

Ormes thought a moment before moving. “Okay, but make it snappy.”

Make it snappy?
“Thank you,” Lizzie said and quickly slipped into the warehouse. She walked over to the shelves, trying to ignore the sticky feeling. This humidity couldn't be good for the books. Should she just take them and try to explain to Mark after or phone him for permission? Or should she try to hear what was going on in the outer office?

She tiptoed back to the door and leaned her ear against it. The drone of the fan blocked out the words, although she could hear voices. Drat. The door opened suddenly and Lizzie tried to make it look like she'd been about to open it but had stopped to look back at the shelves.

“Are you ready to leave, Ms. Turner?” Ormes asked.

“I am but I'm taking the books since we do have permission from the DA. It's way too humid in there for them. If you and Special Agent Jackson would be so kind as to carry them out to the car for me, then I'll be out of your hair.”
So to speak.
She couldn't resist looking at the thin strands of hair that had been combed across his scalp. “There are six boxes,” she continued as she walked to the front door. “I'll just back up my car to the loading dock.” She left quickly before Ormes could respond.

She was actually surprised to see the two men with all six boxes stacked beside them when she backed in. They loaded them into the trunk, stopping to wipe the perspiration off their foreheads.

“I don't think you'll need to come back and trouble Ms. Norton again, will you?” Jackson asked as she started to thank them.

Lizzie closed the trunk. “I shouldn't think so,” Lizzie agreed.
But you never know.

“Thank you, gentlemen.” She slid into the front seat and turned the air-conditioning on full blast before leaving the parking lot.

She let out the breath it felt like she'd been holding since the agents had first entered the room. First, she'd drop the books at Molly's, adding them to the other boxes in the garage, giving thanks that Molly had installed air-conditioning in order to protect the Corvette. She'd then go see if Amanda at Scissors 'n Snips had time to give her a shampoo and trim. It was getting close to her four-week visit and she felt the need to do it now, while Dana-Lynn was still fresh in her mind. Amanda not only gave the best cut Lizzie had in town, she also gave the best gossip. If anyone knew anything about Dana-Lynn Norton, it would be Amanda Atkins.

• • •

W
hy, Dana-Lynn was in my younger sister Tracy's year at AC High,” Amanda said, warming Lizzie's heart. “She was always a bit ditzy as I recall. She could be talked into just about anything, and my sweet little sis, Tracy, was just the one to do it.”

“So, a fairly straightforward kind of person? Do you think she'd be involved in anything shady?”

“Only if she didn't know it was shady. I seem to remember you could sell her a bill of goods and she'd be at the counter paying for it before you finished your spiel.” Amanda had quickly trimmed Lizzie's hair but was playing around with the front, draping strands across the forehead, as she usually did in a bid to get Lizzie to change her hairstyle. “Ready for bangs yet, sugar?”

Lizzie started to shake her head then remembered the scissors in Amanda's hand, right close to her left ear. “No. Nothing different, thanks anyway. Have you heard anything about Dana-Lynn lately?”

“I hadn't heard nor thought about her in years, not until the owner of that printing press was killed. The paper said she worked for him. The poor thing must have been in total shock.”

“For sure.” Lizzie only semi-listened as Amanda went on to fill her in on what Tracy had been up to over the years. Her mind stayed on Dana-Lynn. Could she have been persuaded that the counterfeit money was a legit enterprise or something? Lizzie still couldn't believe Dana-Lynn would not have known something about it.

“Is Dana-Lynn a customer of yours by any chance?” Lizzie asked as soon as Amanda had turned the hair dryer off.

“No. I don't know where she goes, remember . . . I haven't heard or seen her in years. What's this all about anyway?” Amanda caught a stray curl and tucked it into the upsweep she'd done with her own bright auburn naturally curly locks, about the only way she could tame them.

“I'd just like to talk to her in neutral territory, without the FBI swooping in on us. I'm sort of interested in trying to find out who killed Orwell Rivers.”

Amanda raised her eyebrows. “Really? I can think of nothing more distasteful. Of course, you were involved in that murder just a few months ago, weren't you?” Her eyes cut to the front of the shop and did a quick sweep around.

Lizzie wondered if she thought murder might be following her around.

“I had a cousin, well I still do, Billy Bob Keller over in Wetumpka, who collected handcuffs. Now, that was a class-A weird interest.” She gave Lizzie's hair a final comb-through then pulled a hand mirror out off the shelf and aimed it so the back of Lizzie's head was visible in the large front mirrors. “Like it?”

Her dark brown hair gleamed in the flattering lighting. It fell in straight clean lines about two inches below her shoulders. She knew that would last until she stepped outside into the humidity.
Gotta love summer.

Lizzie nodded. “That's great. Thanks, Amanda.” She slipped a tip in the top drawer as she stood up.

“Thank you. Just wait a sec.” She turned to the stylist at the station two chairs over. “Holly, do you ever see Dana-Lynn Norton these days?” She said in an aside to Lizzie, “She's the same age as that group.”

Holly, tall and skinny as a rail with her bold blonde hair done in dreadlocks, finished putting her combs in a jar filled with blue liquid and sauntered over. “I don't but if you're looking for her I'll bet you can find Dana-Lynn hanging out at the Fassbender. She's got the hots for one of the bartenders. I think his name is Jason or something like that. Why you asking?”

Amanda shrugged. “Her name just came up in conversation and I was saying my sister hadn't seen her in a long time. Thanks.”

Holly looked from one to the other and shrugged as she walked away. “Whatever.”

Amanda waited until Holly was at the back. “She's got a real big mouth,” she said sotto voce. “I didn't think you'd want her blabbing your interest in this.”

“Thanks. And thanks for the tip.”

“Right back at you,” Amanda said and started blowing stray hairs off the chair with the hair dryer.

Lizzie wondered where Mark was and whether she should call him about the books, then decided to leave it until later that night.

I was smart enough to know exactly what I was going to do next. And smart enough to keep my mouth shut about it, too.

BUTTON HOLED
—KYLIE LOGAN

L
izzie was having trouble relaxing enough to enjoy her Shiraz. She sat perched on the edge of a stool at the bar, nursing the wine that had to do her until Jason came back from his dinner break. She'd been waiting for thirty-five minutes, hoping the woman she'd been told he'd left with was Dana-Lynn. The perky blonde bartender was new and didn't know Dana-Lynn by name.

This whole scene made Lizzie feel old. Most of the kids must be just above the legal drinking age and the music blasting from the sound system left her nerve endings jangling. A couple of times she'd wondered if this was such a clever idea after all. Even if she did find Dana-Lynn, they wouldn't be able to carry on a conversation. She was seriously considering leaving the rest of the drink and exiting when Dana-Lynn walked through the front door, hanging on to the hand of a short, dark-haired guy with lots of tattoos on his arms. They shared a mushy kiss before he walked into the kitchen at the back.

Lizzie watched as Dana-Lynn looked around the room, possibly searching for friends. She'd better nab her first. Lizzie waved, which caught her attention.

The initial look of surprise had been replaced by a friendly smile by the time Dana-Lynn perched on the empty barstool next to Lizzie. “Why, what are you doing here, Ms. Turner? I don't think I've ever seen you here before.”

Lizzie smiled and leaned toward her so as to not shout. “It's Lizzie, please. And I'm actually here looking for you.”

Dana-Lynn went back to looking surprised. “Why?”

“Can I buy you a drink?” Lizzie asked and then paid for the margarita she ordered. She waited until Dana-Lynn had her first sip then said, “I wanted to talk to you some more but those two agents sort of took over.” She smiled to make light of it.

Dana-Lynn gave a small laugh. “Oh, that younger FBI guy, he's so sexy. Oops, I shouldn't say that with Jason here. But he is, don't you think?”

Lizzie tried not to think about it but had to agree. “I keep wondering how the counterfeiting operation worked and how Mr. Rivers was able to keep it a secret from you. Do you have any ideas?” Lizzie pushed the small dish of pretzels toward Dana-Lynn.

“No, ma'am. I truly don't. I know Orwell—he wanted me to call him that, you know—asked me to stay in the front at all times. If I needed him, I was to use the intercom. He said it was in case a customer came in off the street. He said there's nothing more upsetting than having an empty reception area greet you. I didn't think there was anything funny about that.” She'd slid into a whiny voice.

Lizzie was quick to placate her. “Of course not. It makes a lot of sense. But did you hear him talking to anybody, maybe about money problems? I'm trying to understand why a good guy like Orwell Rivers would turn to something criminal.”

Dana-Lynn shuddered. “Oh, don't talk about him like that. He was truly a very nice man. I don't know anything bad about him. He was always good to me. He often suggested I just take extra time off for lunch when it was slow. And sometimes, just leave early. I wish you wouldn't ask me to bad-mouth him.”

“I don't want you to bad-mouth him. I just would like to find out what's behind his murder. I'd think you'd want the killer to be brought to justice, too, wouldn't you?”

“Uh-huh. But, I'm scared. What if this killer also thinks I know something? Could I be next?” She shuddered.

Lizzie hadn't thought of that. She doubted it but felt bad about having planted that scare in Dana-Lynn's mind. She reached out and touched her arm. “I'm pretty sure you're not in any danger, otherwise the police would have done something about it. Believe me, they are good at their job and they wouldn't let anything happen to you.”

“That's very kind of you to say that, Ms. Turner.”

Lizzie jumped at the sound of Mark's voice behind her. She turned around quickly enough to see the scowl on his face. “Hi, Chief. Won't you join us? Dana-Lynn and I were just having a drink.”

“And a talk,” he said, still obviously displeased.

Dana-Lynn stood abruptly. “Hey, Chief Dreyfus. I think I'd better get going on home. Thanks for the drink, Lizzie. Bye now.”

Lizzie watched, dismayed, as Dana-Lynn hurried out the front door. Mark sat on the vacated stool.

“Just what do you think you're doing?” he asked. The cute young bartender arrived immediately, Lizzie noticed, even though it had taken her ten minutes to get her drink. Mark ordered a beer and then gave Lizzie a piercing look.

“I was just asking her a few questions, that's all.”

“Picking up where you left off this morning?”

“How did you know about that?” One or both of the special agents, of course.

Mark cocked an eyebrow at her.

“No need to answer. But what are you doing here?”

“I thought it was time I got into the act with everyone else having grilled my witness before I got to her.”

“How did you know she was here?”

“Her roommate,” Mark answered and leaned closer.

“And why did it take you until now to get to her?” Lizzie asked, bouncing between chagrin and indignation.

“Let's just say, after my initial questioning of Ms. Norton, I didn't think she'd have much additional to add. I just wanted to be sure I'd been right.”

“You had been,” Lizzie confirmed. Not wanting a lecture, she said, “Well, at least we can have a pleasant drink together.” She tilted her glass to him.

He snorted. “You call this pleasant? I can hardly hear myself think. Come on, let's take that table in the far corner. It might be a bit quieter there.” He steered her between the tables crowding the small floor space. “Have you had anything to eat?” he asked when they were seated.

“I grabbed a snack at home but that was it.”

“What say we finish our drinks and go over to my place? Grab some takeout on the way?”

Lizzie nodded.

“And then I can lecture you without any distractions around,” he added.