Cover Story (8 page)

There were far too many questions and not nearly enough time to find the answers.

CAKE ON A HOT TIN ROOF
—JACKLYN BRADY

L
izzie pulled into the parking lot at Riverwell Press at ten on the nose the next morning. She had a brief flash of déjà vu and butterflies in her stomach, which eased when she noticed another car parked in the lot, a silver Lincoln. Teensy's shiny yellow Cadillac pulled up next to her. They waved at each other and got out of their cars.

“I'm so excited,” Teensy said, her voice a higher pitch than normal. “The first time I get to see my printed book. It's like a dream.”

Lizzie smiled. Teensy was acting like a teenager on her first date.

“Well, you'll be pleased to know I finished reading your book, Teensy, and I don't see how it's involved in any of this.”

Teensy grabbed Lizzie in a bear hug then held her at arm's length. “And, what did you think about it? Did you just love it? Go on now, sugar . . . you can tell me the truth.”

As if.
“It's all you said it would be, Teensy. A lively plot, great setting and lots of steamy romance.”

Teensy hugged her again. “Oh, thank you so much, sugar. I'm just thrilled.”

“By the way, how was the dinner with Mr. Mayor?” she asked as they fell in beside each other walking to the front door.

“He's a real charmer, he is. I can see how he made mayor. I'm sure he got the votes of all the women of Ashton Corners. Perhaps present company excluded since I wasn't around at the time. Although I'm certain I would have voted for him,” she added. “He was a real gentleman, too, not talking so much about himself but asking a lot about me. In fact, we're going out again tonight.”

“That's great, Teensy.” They'd reached the front door. Teensy grabbed the handle and gave it a turn. Lizzie followed her inside.

A tall balding man with glasses riding low on his bulbous nose walked toward them, hand extended. “I'm Roger Emerson, Orwell Rivers's lawyer. I'm just here to assist you in looking through everything.” His grip was surprisingly weak for someone with such a strong voice. Lizzie concentrated on his round face, complete with jowls. She thought he resembled Patchett and hid a smile.

“A pleasure, Mr. Emerson,” Teensy said. “Don't you worry none, we're taking only what's already been paid for. Now, where are my books?”

Lizzie looked sharply at Teensy. Her tone had changed to total businesswoman with a tinge of snippiness, if Lizzie wasn't mistaken. Mr. Emerson had obviously rubbed her the wrong way. She confirmed it as they followed him into the back.

“He thinks we're going to try to run off with all the books, I'll bet,” Teensy said in a loud whisper. “Did you see how his eyes narrowed and got all beady there? As if I need to steal my own books. The nerve.”

“It's probably a good idea he's here, though. I'd hate to have something else go missing and we'd be accused. Not that it would. But you just never know,” Lizzie offered.

Teensy harrumphed and made no further comment until they walked into the massive storage area.

Emerson came up behind them and said, “Those are the books that were salvaged.” He pointed to metal shelving at the right. “Now, you need to sort through those and take what you want. I've already been through them and disposed of those in worst condition. I also did a tally for the DA.”

Teensy didn't answer but walked right over to the shelves and started carefully checking books, placing them in the cardboard boxes that were positioned on the floor. Lizzie moved to the far end and started doing the same. Half an hour later, they met up in the middle. They'd managed to salvage half of the books from the original shipment then moved over to the section where the remaining books had been stored.

“The boxes say there are thirty books in each. Do we believe them?” Teensy asked, frowning as she pulled a box out from the bottom shelf and eased it onto the floor. She had flung her billowing lime green lightweight cotton scarf over her left shoulder. The sleeveless fuchsia caftan swirled around her ankles.

“Let's check one box and we'll assume the others are correct. I guess we should take three of them even though that will bring us over the original total,” Lizzie said, kneeling down and already slashing at the taped top with a box cutter. “We'll let Mr. Emerson know, of course.” She pulled them out and handed them to Teensy, who piled them on the floor, both of them counting as they went along.

“That's thirty,” Teensy said. “I guess we'll trust the others.” She pulled two other boxes off the shelf and carried them over to the trolley they'd commandeered from the corner of the room. “I wonder how many more there are? I should just buy them all up and make sure they don't disappear or something. Who knows what's going to happen to this place now.”

“We could count the boxes and then you'd know what amounts you're dealing with.”

Teensy grunted as she stood up. “Good idea. It doesn't look like there's too many.”

Teensy started pulling the boxes at the front of the three-tiered shelf off and onto the floor while Lizzie went around to the side to push some forward from the back. The open sides of the shelving made it easy to maneuver the boxes.

The last one she pushed forward was the same sized box but had a couple of red stripes along the edge of the box. The printing looked identical to the other boxes—the top line listed the quantity of books, the next line the title, the bottom line the price and the publisher information—except for two dollar signs that had been added with felt pen to the price of the books.

Lizzie allowed her curiosity to win out and slashed the top of the box open. “This is odd. Come take a look, Teensy.”

“What's up, sugar?”

Lizzie put her hand in the box and lifted out a bundle wrapped in newspaper. She carefully unwrapped it and gasped.

“Oh my Lord. Did we uncover some hidden treasure or something?” Teensy asked in awe.

Lizzie held the money for a minute, thinking before speaking. “Not a legal treasure. I think this is all counterfeit.”

“Counterfeit? What makes you think so?”

“Firstly, it's an odd place to stash so many bills, all the same currency, or so it appears. Secondly, there have been some counterfeit twenties discovered in the last few days.” She was reluctant to tell Teensy about the money being found on Cabe Wilson's body.

“I'd better call Mark.” Lizzie put the money back in the box and pulled her cell phone out.

“What about Mr. Emerson?” Teensy asked.

“We'll let Mark explain it to him.” She reached Mark on the second ring and explained what they'd found. After a couple of minutes, she hung up. “He's on his way. We're not to touch anything else until then.”

“Oh my. What if they confiscate these books all over again?” Teensy was almost in tears.

Lizzie looked around quickly and pointed to the boxes on the trolley. “Let's get those stashed in the cars. We'll have to make two trips, I think. We'll say we found this box afterward, which we did.”

Teensy nodded and they rushed the trolley to the door. “Will Mr. Emerson get upset about that?”

Lizzie stopped, her hand on the door handle. “Yikes. I hadn't thought about that. I guess we'd better let him see them first. Let's move them to the lobby anyway and leave them there. That way the police might want to look through them but shouldn't have to hang on to them. Why don't you go get Emerson from the office out back and I'll take these to the lobby?”

Teensy nodded and rushed off down the hall. Lizzie managed to work the trolley through the door and out to the waiting area. Teensy and Emerson arrived just as two police cars pulled into the parking lot.

“What do they want?” Emerson asked, sounding exasperated.

“I called them,” Lizzie said. “I think the chief had better explain it to you.”

Mark was first through the door. He nodded at Teensy and Lizzie. “Mr. Emerson. You're here also?”

“I was Orwell Rivers's lawyer, Chief. Just protecting the interests of his estate. These ladies were collecting Miz Coldicutt's books. I'm not quite sure what this is all about, though.” He gestured at the three police officers who had crowded into the room.

Mark said, “I'll just have a talk with Ms. Turner back there in the warehouse and then I'll fill you in.” He gestured to the door and Lizzie went in first.

She led the officers over to the shelves and pointed at the box. “We were trying to determine how many of Teensy's books were left once we'd taken the ones Molly had ordered. I noticed this box was marked a bit differently so I opened it. And that's what I found.”

Mark reached in and pulled out the bundles of twenties. He then emptied the box. One of the other officers let out a low whistle.

“Are there any more boxes like that?” Mark asked.

“I haven't checked the rest of the back line yet.”

Mark directed an officer to do so. They waited in silence until he'd shoved the boxes around and pulled out two with identical markings. Lizzie handed him her box cutter and he sliced them open. All were filled with bundles of twenties.

“That makes about ninety thousand dollars,” Mark said. “This isn't good.” He looked around the room. There were three more sets of shelving. “You're sure the boxes you moved out to the waiting area are totally books?”

“We didn't check two of them but we will. They don't have the same markings as these. The rest are from those that were recovered.”

“Yost. Vicker. I want you two to search all those boxes along that wall. Make sure we've found all the money.” He looked at Lizzie. “Let's go tell Emerson. I'm sure it won't make his day.”

Lizzie was almost afraid to voice her concerns. “Do you think these are tied in to the money found on the body at Bob's?”

“Lizzie, I just don't know. I'll head on over to see him when I've finished here. What are you going to do with those books?”

“We're taking them over to store at Molly's. Do you think that's safe? Was it the money the guys who attacked Molly were looking for?”

“It could very well be. They may have gotten it when they killed Rivers. I don't know if they know some is still here but I've had officers posted since the murder so they wouldn't have gotten in. I'll let it be known that some money was found and is in my custody. That should ensure Molly's safety.”

The tension in Iris' chest built up unbearably. By rights, the hooks on her bra ought to snap.

DOG EAT DOG
—MARY COLLINS

“B
ob would in no way be involved with anything illegal, especially counterfeit money,” Molly declared as she helped shove the final box into place in her garage. She leaned over, stretching her side, then did the same with the other.

Teensy threw up her hands in the air. “I'm just telling you what we found and what I heard, Mopsy.”

Lizzie's glare was lost on Teensy. She might be Molly's long, dear, lost friend but Lizzie was steaming that Teensy had dared to pass along what she'd obviously overheard of Lizzie and Mark's conversation. Sometimes that woman just didn't have a clue.

“You're absolutely right, Molly,” Lizzie said soothingly. “Bob is one of the most honest people I know. He would not get involved in any illegal activity.”

“I like Bob as much as the next person,” Teensy said, doing a discreet minor adjustment to her bra strap, “but that body was found at his place, as was some counterfeit money. Don't they always say ‘follow the money' on those TV crime shows?”

Molly turned to Teensy and put her hands on her hips. “Teensy, I will not allow anything disparaging to be said or even thought about Bob in my presence. Got that?”

Teensy looked shocked. “Got it, Mopsy. She winked at Lizzie. “And I get it.” Fortunately, Molly missed seeing the wink. “Now, what should we do next?”

Molly shooed them out of the garage, closed the door and locked it. “I am going over to Bob's house just to check on things. Maybe we can get together tomorrow and finalize the launch plans.”

Teensy nodded. “That's all right by me. I think I'll just stop by Willetta's and see if I can get a manicure.” She hugged them both and got in her car.

As soon as Teensy had driven off, Molly walked briskly to the house. “I'll go with you, Molly,” Lizzie offered.

“It's not necessary, you know. I am fine and can drive myself.”

“Yes to all the above. But I'm still going.” Lizzie planted her feet and stood still.

Molly looked back at her before opening the back door. “All right. I'll just lock up and grab my purse. But you'll have to drive if you insist on coming.”

Lizzie smiled to herself and slid into the driver's seat of her Mazda 3. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Molly, in complete control of her emotions, march out to the car and get into the passenger side.

They made the drive in silence. Lizzie parked on the verge of the road since a police cruiser took up the space in the driveway. Another one was parked farther along the road. She followed Molly up to the front door. Molly knocked and opened the door without waiting to be asked to enter. Lizzie stuck close to her.

“We're here to see Bob,” Molly announced.

Officer Amber Craig stood up abruptly from where she'd been crouched in front of the TV stand. “Miz Mathews, I'm sorry, I'll have to ask you to leave. We are conducting a search of the premises.”

Lizzie could see a second officer going through cupboards in the kitchen and she heard noises from down the hall. Craig nodded at Lizzie, a pleading look in her eyes.

Lizzie jumped in before Molly could answer. “Perhaps we could just wait out on the back porch?”

Molly shot Lizzie a piercing look that made her want to retract what she'd just said. Bob stayed put, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, a pinched look on his face. He hadn't said a word since they'd arrived.

Craig answered, “That would be fine.”

Lizzie took hold of Molly's arm and led her out the door and around to the back. There were two Adirondack chairs, hunter green and chipped, placed so that the evening sunset would frame the river.

Molly chose the chair closest to the kitchen door. “I'm not happy having to wait out here, Lizzie. We should be in there adding moral support. And what does she mean, searching? What on earth could they be looking for? Bob's not a criminal.”

Lizzie shook her head. “Molly, I know you're concerned but there's nothing we can do at the moment.”

“I guess you're right. We'll sit and wait. They'll discover soon enough they've made a mistake.”

I sure hope so.
Lizzie kept her thoughts to herself and tried to enjoy the view. The Tallapoosa River looked to be under the spell of the heat and just lazed its way along. A slight shimmer skimmed the top of the water, if she looked at it the right way. The far shoreline didn't seem quite as vibrant a green today.

After about ten minutes Molly asked, “You don't think they're seriously considering Bob is involved in any of this?”

“I'm not sure who their other suspects are. If they don't have anyone else, they may be concentrating on him.” It had to be said.

“Well, they should be out there searching for the real murderer. Bob wouldn't hurt a fly and there's no way he'd be involved in a counterfeit ring.”

The door opened as she finished speaking and Bob joined them.

“Thanks for your support, Molly. And I swear to you both, I'm not involved. But it looks like the evidence is standing in line to convict me.” He sat down on the top step and stared ahead. He ran a hand wearily through his thick gray hair and then adjusted the neckline of his camouflage-colored T-shirt.

“Well that's downright foolish,” Molly said loudly. “What evidence? It seems circumstantial to me.”

“Oh, Molly, honey, you only know the half of it,” Bob answered, his voice a direct contrast to her volume.

“Like what, Bob?” Lizzie asked.

Bob turned sideways and leaned back against the railing. “For starters, there's the fact the body was found out here and I knew him.”

“I didn't know that,” Molly said. “Who was he?”

“An ex-con who'd been in and out of jail a lot over the years I was police chief, and most of the times, I'd put him there. He was involved in mainly small-scale stuff. Some B and Es, fraud, shoplifting. Nothing violent. But I don't know what he was doing here. I hadn't seen the guy in several years.”

“Maybe someone dumped the body, trying to frame you,” Lizzie ventured.

“Could be. But then there's the counterfeit money. They found some twenties lying around the yard when they dealt with the body. And I hear there was lots more of that at Riverwell Press. Now they're inside with a search warrant looking to see if I have any stashed.” Bob shook his head. “It's all got to be connected in some way. There are just too many things happening at once for any of them to be a coincidence.”

“I did finish reading Teensy's book and I can't see how it could in any way be tied in to all that's happened,” Lizzie offered.

Bob grunted but didn't comment.

“If they find any money, it could be planted,” Lizzie persisted. “You don't even have a motive, after all.”

“I think I'll just hire you as my lawyer,” Bob said with a small smile. “If I am being framed, there'll be more bases covered, you can be sure of that.” He shook his head.

“Well maybe you should just give Jacob a call right now and get him over here.” Molly's spine stiffened as she said it.

“Trouble is, he's not a criminal lawyer, Molly. He has put me in touch with someone, though. Kenneth Stokes. I s'pose I should call him and let him know what's happening.” He shook his head again. “Never thought I'd see the day. After all those years of keeping the peace and locking up the bad guys, here I am being treated as one.”

He pushed himself up to standing and walked toward the back door when it opened. Officer Craig came out holding a bundle of twenty-dollar bills held together by a wide paper band. “Mr. Miller, you'll have to come down to the station with us, please. You have a lot more explaining to do.”

Lizzie stood up. “Bob, do you want me to call your lawyer?”

Bob shook his head. “No, thanks. Looks like I'll be getting the opportunity to make that call myself.” He planted a kiss on Molly's forehead as he walked past her.