Cover Story (5 page)

Even so, things were about to get very messy.

BURIED IN A BOOK
—LUCY ARLINGTON

O
n the drive over to Molly's, Lizzie tried to focus on how best to question Teensy. If she'd written something inciting in her book, she was obviously unaware of it. Had she told the plot to someone or had someone read it over before having it published? That would be a starting point in her investigation, as she now thought of it.

She parked in front of the closed garage and used her key to let herself into Molly's house. It seemed strange to be there with no Molly calling out to her. She left her overnight bag out of the way in the hall until Molly told her which of the ten upstairs bedrooms she should use, and went to check on the supply of iced tea.

She hadn't been prepared for the sharp feeling of dread she experienced when she entered the kitchen. This didn't feel life a safe haven any longer. Was it wise to let Molly return home so soon? What if the attackers came back?

Lizzie shook her head and took a deep breath. Time to take control of her thoughts. The bad guys had gotten what they came for. The books were gone. They had no reason to come back. She knew that. Yet, a part of her seemed destined to remain in worry mode.

Lizzie pulled out the box of molasses cookies she'd bought earlier and was arranging them on a plate when she heard the front door. Bob held the door open with one hand and had a hold of Molly's left arm with the other as Lizzie hurried over to them and gave Molly a hug, trying not to stare at the large white bandage.

“It's so good to see you home.”

Molly stopped and took a deep breath. “Believe me, honey, it's even better to be home.” She took a long, slow look around and said to Bob, “Let's go on out to the kitchen and have ourselves something nice and cold to drink.”

Lizzie poured the tea while Bob helped Molly settle herself on the banquette. “Shouldn't you go to bed?” Lizzie asked.

“I have been in bed since yesterday, and now that I'm up, I plan to keep it that way. Until I finish my tea, anyway. Thank you, honey,” she added as Lizzie put down the glass in front of her.

Lizzie wondered how Molly felt about being back at the scene of the attack, but aside from wincing as she'd entered the room, Molly didn't say a thing about it. The window in the door had been replaced. Bob had seen to that and he'd cleaned up the debris, too.

Bob pulled out a chair and settled on it. “I'll have a quick stay and then I need to get a few errands done. But I'll be back for a while, early evening, if you'll let me. You won't get rid of me that easily, Molly.”

She gave a light laugh. “I'm not trying to, Bob. You've been so good. I should think you need to get on with your own life.”

He colored slightly, then took a bite out of the cookie he'd chosen.

“Teensy called and asked if it would be all right to stop by for a brief visit. I thought you might want to see her,” Lizzie said.

“I'm glad she's coming over. I'm very curious about what's going on,” Molly replied.

“Well, just don't let yourself get carried away being curious,” Bob jumped in. “I have a few questions about her book, too. Maybe I'll just hang around until she gets here.”

“You just go on and do what you have to, Bob. Lizzie here will ask all about the book, I have no doubt.”

Lizzie nodded, her mouth full of cookie crumbs.

The doorbell rang at that moment. “I'll get it, and if it's Teensy Coldicutt, I'll just keep on going in that case,” Bob said. “I'll see you later.” He gave Molly's hand a squeeze and nodded at Lizzie.

They heard him answer the door and Teensy's high-pitched voice laughing, then the door closed and high-heeled shoes sounded through the hallway. She pushed the door open and swooped over to Molly, her long pink and blue sundress swirling around her calves, and gave her a big hug.

“Oh, sugar, I'm so upset about what's happened. Are you sure you're all right? Shouldn't you still be in the hospital?”

“I'm not that fragile, Teensy. Now sit down, have some tea and cookies. It's good of you to come over.”

Teensy gave Lizzie a quick hug and then sat while Lizzie fetched a glass and filled it with tea.

“Now, just what did the doctors say? Are you concussed? Shouldn't you be in bed? Just when do they think you'll be right back to normal?”

“Normal? Teensy, you're making me feel like I'm some sort of weirdo here. I do have a very mild concussion but it should be just fine in a couple of days at most. Lizzie here is staying with me overnight, on doctor's orders, just to make sure everything's fine.” She winked at Lizzie. “I'm actually looking forward to a girls' pajama party and so didn't put up a fuss when he mentioned it.”

Teensy bounced out of the chair and started pacing in her white stiletto sandals. “I just can't get it out of my head that this is all my fault. If it wasn't for that damned book. But that's just it . . . I don't have a clue why that book would be causing all this trouble.”

“Teensy, just sit down and calm down,” Molly said, her voice a lot firmer than before.

Teensy did as she was told, sitting on the edge of her chair, ready to leap up again if needed, it appeared.

“What's the plot of the book, Teensy?” Lizzie asked.

“The plot? Well, it's set on an old plantation just outside Alexander City.” She leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “You know, Tara-style. There's an aging beauty, a Southern belle who inherited it all from her daddy, and this oh-so-handsome Yankee gentleman who shows up mysteriously and offers to buy the place, which will save her from the poorhouse. And then the body of her older brother, who died over twenty-five years before, is found when they dig up a dying magnolia tree. And so they solve the murder together. That's it in a nutshell. Of course, there's a lot of steamy sex scenes in it. I mean, it just calls for it, don't you think?”

Lizzie bit back a smile. She wondered what a seventy-something's idea of a steamy sex scene read like. But then again, her thirty-year-old imagination might do no better. And what about Andie? She gave her head a mental shake; nothing shocked a sweet sixteen these days.

“And you're certain there's no mention of anyone from around here who might take issue with being written into the plot?”

“Well, as any writer knows, most of our characters do have a bit of basis in reality. I mean, I can't help but use some characteristics of people I know. But I haven't been mean-spirited at all. I didn't base the killer on anyone I know. And certainly not the hero and heroine. Although she might be a tiny bit like me.”

Molly burst out laughing. “Oh, Teensy. I do have to read this for certain.”

Teensy's cheeks colored slightly. “I have a vivid imagination, Mopsy.”

“I'm also wondering how anyone around here would know what's in the book?”

“Well, Orwell Rivers knew. He published it, after all,” Teensy said.

Lizzie wondered just how involved Rivers had been. “Did he also edit your book, Teensy?”

“Why no, sugar. It's one of those joint publishing books. I put up the money for half of it and we split the profits, although he does get a larger percentage 'cause of all he'll do, or would have done, with the distribution end and some of the promoting. The editorial content is totally under my control. He did tell me he'd read it, though, and thought it would be a bestseller. Oh dear, I wonder what will happen now?”

Lizzie shrugged, not having a clue about the book publishing business. “It sounds like Mr. Rivers would not have been one to let any tidbits from your novel be spread anyway. Did anyone else know or read it?”

“No. I wasn't living here at the time I wrote it,” Teensy said, with a small apologetic smile.

“Do you think I could borrow a copy of your manuscript just to give it a read?” Lizzie remembered to ask.

“Why, sure thing. Maybe I should just email it to you. Would that be all right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why don't you see if the police will let you pick up one from Riverwell Press?” Molly asked. “They must have lots of copies on hand. At least, they better. We still need them.”

“About that. After all that's happened, I'm a bit concerned about our going ahead with the launch at this time.”

Teensy gasped. “You can't be serious, sugar. I mean, I know it's been absolutely horrid and we're mighty lucky that Molly wasn't hurt even worse, but all that's passed now. The police will surely find who did it. And this launch is so important to my career.”

The fact that Teensy considered this a career had never entered Lizzie's mind. “I do hate to disappoint you, Teensy, but safety has to come first.”

“Well, yes, of course it does,” Teensy said, reaching for a cookie. Lizzie pushed the plate toward her. “It certainly does, but now that they have the books, what else could they want?”

“There's also the murder of your publisher, Teensy. That's a bit too close for comfort. And more than a coincidence, I'd say.”

“Lizzie does have a point,” Molly said gently.

“Tish tosh. I don't see how the two events can possibly be tied in. His murder certainly has nothing to do with my book. That's absurd. Why, I'll hire security guards for the launch if that makes it any safer.”

Wow, she's serious.
“Why don't I run it by Mark and see what he thinks? But there's also a slight glitch we'd have to deal with.”

“And what would that be?” Teensy did not sound amused.

“Mark was saying the books need to be held in evidence during the investigation.”

“What?” Teensy exploded. “They cannot do that. It's my book. I paid for it. Well at least half of it, so I should get at least half the books.”

“That's a good point,” Lizzie agreed. “Mark did say he'd see what he could do, but this new DA is a stickler for the rules.”

“Maybe I could talk to the mayor. He called the other day to welcome me back to town.” Teensy looked expectantly from Lizzie to Molly.

“What about the fact that I'd already ordered and paid for the books?” Molly asked. “Teensy and I agreed I'd handle this as a business venture. I'd purchase the books and keep the profit and then she'd collect royalties.”

“How did you pay, Molly? By credit card?”

“No, check.”

“Well if he deposited the check then that would be proof one hundred fifty copies are yours.”

“I take it there's no record that I'd ordered them?”

“Maybe they'll come across it when they dig deeper. Let's wait and see what Mark can do.”

“Mark, huh?” Teensy asked, a suggestive smile playing at her lips. “Would that happen to be police chief Mark Dreyfus?”

Lizzie nodded, feeling her cheeks grow hot. “An old high school acquaintance.”

Teensy grinned. “As good a time of life to meet Mr. Right as any.”

“Who shot him?” I asked. The gray man scratched the back of his neck and said: “Somebody with a gun.”

RED HARVEST
—DASHIELL HAMMETT

B
y the next afternoon, Molly had assured Lizzie enough times that she was truly all right and no longer needed a babysitter. Lizzie finally agreed and, after making Molly promise to phone three times a day, headed for home. She was secretly relieved to be doing so, although she enjoyed spending time with Molly. And when Molly was resting, Lizzie had put those hours to good use. She'd finished outlining a proposed workshop for the Ashton Corners Elementary School teachers she'd planned for late September titled “Graphic Novels as a Teaching Aid.” And, most of her handouts were ready to be dropped off at the school board offices for printing.

The literacy classes she taught on Monday and Wednesday nights would also be restarting, but not until the second week in September. However, aside from a general outline of what topics would be covered in the year, she liked to get to know the needs of the individuals in her class and then tailor the sessions to help them reach their goals. For most of them, that was usually a “pass” on their GEDs.

Lizzie loved the variety that came from teaching at night while working more with teachers during the day. Of course, as a reading specialist, she also worked with small groups of students to increase their reading skills, as needed.

When she'd enrolled in Auburn University right after high school, she'd planned on being a journalist like her daddy, but somewhere in that freshman year, she'd stumbled on teaching and eventually decided that the more specialized role was something better suited to her abilities. It had been hard leaving Ashton Corners, with her mama tucked away at Magnolia Manor, the assisted living facility in town. But it was exactly because of the good care given Evelyn Turner that Lizzie could live on campus and be home in about an hour most weekends to visit. Usually she'd stay at Molly's house on those visits, having sold the family home to help pay for Evelyn's care.

Molly had been in Lizzie's life as long as she could remember, since she had been close friends with her grandmamma and then a lifesaver when it came to dealing with Evelyn's increasing retreat from reality. That had started soon after her daddy, Monroe Turner, had died in a car accident when Lizzie was ten years old.

Lizzie had finished unpacking her overnight bag when the phone rang. She was surprised to hear Jacob Smith's voice.

“Lizzie, I'm at Bob's place and a body has been found. Do you have any idea where Bob might be? I don't want to call to Molly's and get her all worried so I thought I'd try you first.”

“No, I don't. He was at Molly's for a visit this morning but he left shortly before lunch. He said he had a lot of errands to take care of. Who is the body, Jacob?”

“The police don't know at this point. They'll have to check his fingerprints. There's, uh, not much in the way of facial features left to identify him by.”

Lizzie felt sick to her stomach. “It's not Bob, is it?”

“No. That much is for certain. Wrong build entirely.”

“Who found him?”

“Our letter carrier, Oscar. He decided to go around back and just have a short rest on Bob's deck and he found the body. He came running over next door to my place after that.”

“Should I take a drive through town and look for Bob's truck?”

“No need. The police are doing that right now. I just thought, in case he was at Molly's, it would be good to ask. I don't like to see her getting upset right after what she's been through.”

“No, you're right. That's very thoughtful of you. What's going on, anyway?”

“Good question, Lizzie, but no one has any answers as yet. I'd better get going. Bye now.”

Lizzie hung up and sat down at the table, staring out the kitchen window. Two bodies within as many days. Not that they were necessarily related. But poor Mark would be run off his feet. And why was this dead person at Bob's place anyway? Maybe it had something to do with a case when Bob was police chief. If so, Bob would know the guy or have some ideas. But where was Bob? She gave Molly a call, just in case Bob had stopped back in there. He'd been doing that a lot over the past couple of days. Lizzie hadn't really needed to stay there, except overnight.

“He's not here, Lizzie. Why would he be? He just left a couple of hours ago.”

Lizzie smiled. Molly hadn't yet clued in to the frequency of his visits. Lizzie didn't want to break the news about yet another body, especially since, as far as she knew, there was no tie-in to the earlier events.

“But now that I have you on the line,” Molly continued, “let's talk about Teensy's book launch. We need to get moving on it, you know. You saw how important it is to her. We should have been talking about it all the time you were here. I don't know why we didn't do that. Oh well, my mind wasn't working as it should, obviously. Has Mark said anything about getting me those books?”

“I haven't had much of a chance to talk to him, Molly. He's been so busy with the murder.”
And now, with another one, I'll have even less of an opportunity.
“Let's work around them for the moment. What's next on the list to be done?”

“I've been making some notes since you left. Let me just fetch them.” Molly put down the phone and Lizzie could hear her bustling around the kitchen. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to continue with the planning and make the final decision once they knew more about where the investigation was heading. Or once she'd read the book. That was now the priority.

“Here now . . . I've got the guest list on the go. I'll also give Sally-Jo a call and confer on a menu, or maybe the two of you could come by here and we'll do that?” She sounded like she was thinking out loud, so Lizzie didn't answer. “Would you mind drafting a press release? And remember, you said you'd stop by and talk to George Havers at the
Colonist
to try and get some publicity. Have you also given some thought as to where else Teensy could do a signing?”

“I'm on it, Molly. Now don't you forget to take a rest at some point, too. I'll check with you later on and let you know how my list is progressing.”

“You see, now you have a legitimate reason to call me without seeming overly—and do I emphasize the
overly
—concerned about my welfare.” Molly chuckled and hung up.

Lizzie smiled. Molly sounded back to her old self. And Lizzie had a task. She'd quickly write out a short press release, or what she figured one would look like, and take it down to the
Colonist
. She might even take a quick drive around town, particularly by Bob's favorite hardware store, and see if she could spot his blue pickup. Couldn't hurt.

After writing her two-paragraph press release, which had taken much longer than she'd counted on thanks to Brie sauntering back and forth across the keyboard, Lizzie printed it out, checked on Edam, who was sound asleep on her bed as usual, locked up the house and drove over to the Main Street offices of the newspaper. Luckily she found a parking spot right in front of the
Colonist
's offices. She eyed the police station parking lot adjacent to the offices but Mark's Jeep wasn't parked in it.

George Havers looked up from the Chinese takeout he was eating at the front desk when she walked in. He tried to smile but his mouth was too full. Lizzie said, “Just go on ahead and finish. I love watching people eat.”

Havers took a swig out of the water bottle on the desk and smiled at her. “Sorry about that. I let Kevin go have lunch with his girlfriend and I'm covering the front, but I'm also hungry. Now before you even ask, I don't have anything on Orwell Rivers's murder.”

Lizzie's mouth gaped. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the only time you come to my office is when you want information about a murder. And the only one recently is Orwell Rivers. So . . .”

“Humph. That's really the only time I come here? Well, I'm changing my pattern. I'm here to give you a story. I have a press release for you about Teensy Coldicutt's new book,
The Winds of Desire
, and the launch being held at Molly Mathews's house.” She handed him the page. “We're hoping you'll send out a photographer to the event and maybe do a story beforehand. Something about local woman returns home and writes a blockbuster novel. Along those lines.”

Havers laughed. “You sound exactly like a PR person. And I'd be happy to do both those things.” He read through the press release. “Wasn't Orwell Rivers her publisher?”

“Yes.”

He sat straight up and looked closely at Lizzie. “And did the mugging of Molly Mathews have anything to do with Miz Coldicutt's book? I'd heard some books went missing.”

“It appears so.”

“Huh. Imagine that. Looks like I'll have to do a quick rewrite of that story now.”

“The police hadn't told you that?”

“They didn't give me all those details. Do you think Miz Mathews would mind if I called to interview her? She's home from hospital, I gather.” Havers put the lid back on the now-empty food container and wiped his mouth with a white paper napkin.

“She just got home yesterday. Maybe you could wait until tomorrow?”

“It'll have to be first thing in the morning then, in order to meet my deadline. Can you ask Miz Coldicutt to give us a copy of her book and I'll have someone review it?”

“I'll bet she'll be delighted.” Lizzie glanced around the room before asking her next question. “Have you had any information about the murder?”

“Aha. That's more like it. Not beyond the bare details. And you know those because you found the body, right? Care to give me a quote?”

Lizzie made a face. “I presume you were writing the story without that quote, so I'll just skip it, please.”

Havers laughed. “All right. It wouldn't really add anything to the story anyway, unless you have an idea of who the killer might be.”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Nada. Neither do the police, I take it. Well, I certainly hope Molly Mathews is all right and that's the end of it.”

“That makes two of us. And thanks for agreeing to do the story on Teensy.” Lizzie hitched the strap of her purse over her shoulder and turned to go. “By the way, George, I also have a tip for you. There's been another murder.”