Dead Between the Lines (19 page)

As I followed Jake toward the exit, I passed by the teenagers’ table and discreetly peered at the book they had laid aside in order to dig into their Blizzards. The front showed the back of a naked female torso with bound hands. I squinted at the title.
Ten Colors of Blonde
was scrawled in a bright yellow curlicue font.

So that’s what the runaway bestseller everyone was talking about looked like. Although I had ordered a copy for Mrs. Zeigler’s basket, it hadn’t arrived yet.

Still, that twinge in the back of my mind insisted, Mrs. Z’s basket wasn’t why what I had just heard was important. There was something else. Something much more significant. I just couldn’t figure out what.

C
HAPTER 23

A
fter giving Jake directions to the Ksiazak B & B, I asked myself what a titillating bestseller could possibly have to do with a murder. I was still drawing a blank when Jake parked in the guesthouse’s driveway. As we walked toward the entrance, I deliberately set the conundrum aside. Maybe if I didn’t think about it, my subconscious would supply the answer.

The B & B was a huge Italianate-style house—a Victorian design that had been popular in the mid-1800s—and I paused to admire it. I’d been there only once before, and I was reminded of how much I loved the cupola in the center of the nearly flat roof, not to mention the ornamental brackets and wraparound porch that suggested a Renaissance villa. For Shadow Bend, the place was delightfully exotic, reminding me; of a mansion that might grace the cover of a gothic novel by Phyllis A. Whitney or Victoria Holt or Mary Stewart.

“All the lights are out.” Jake gestured toward the wall of darkened windows facing the street. “Maybe your friend isn’t home.”

“Terrific.” My shoulders sagged. The only other person on our list to talk to was Zizi Todd, and she was with her sewing group in the city. “Then we might as well head home, because we’re out of suspects.”

“You’ll never be an ace PI if you give up that easy.” Jake’s lopsided grin did funny things to my insides. “Let’s try around back.” He put his hand on my waist and steered me toward the rear of the building. “Her living quarters might be in the rear.”

“I think you’re right.” I brightened when we rounded the corner and I saw a golden glow. “That must be the kitchen.” I pointed to a set of tall, narrow windows where I could see someone’s shadow moving to and fro.

As we approached a small porch with its gabled overhang, raised voices blasted from the partly open back door. At first, I thought it was a television show, but then I heard a male voice say, “Ronni, Ronni, Ronni. Did you really think it was going to be that easy? That I’d just give up?”

I glanced at Jake. He held a finger to his lips and inclined his head, indicating we should listen rather than interrupt.

Ronni’s usually laid-back alto sounded heated. “I’m not taking this lying down.”

What was going on in there? Before I could decide, there was a loud clatter that might have been a chair overturning, crashing that sounded like breaking dishes, and a string of curses.
Oh, my God!
I started forward, but Jake seized my arm and pulled me back.

The people inside were now silent, and I hissed at Jake, “Let me go. Ronni might be hurt.” I tried to move, but he held firm.

He murmured into my ear, “Hold your horses.”

“What are we waiting for?” I glared at him, then peered anxiously into the darkness. “That guy yelling at her could be the mafioso that Quistgaard claimed financed the B and B.”

Jake opened his mouth to reply, but closed it when we both heard Ronni holler, “Now see what you’ve done, asshat!” I relaxed. At least she was still alive, albeit in a really bad mood.

I couldn’t make out the next few exchanges, but with an obnoxious jeer, the male voice said, “Just pay up and stop your bellyaching. You knew what you were getting into when we started.”

“No!” Ronni screamed. “I’d rather die than give you more money.”

“That can be arranged.”

Jerking my arm from Jake’s grasp, I ran for the door, yanked it open, and burst inside. Jake was right behind me, and when I skidded to a stop he slammed into my back, nearly knocking me over.

He grabbed me by the shoulders to steady me; then we both stood frozen and stared at Ronni. She was sitting at an old wooden kitchen table playing Monopoly with a young man who appeared to be in his late teens. The guy was clutching a fistful of brightly colored fake bills in each hand. But the triumphant grin on his face quickly changed to a look of surprise, and he gaped at us as if we’d been transported into the room from the starship
Enterprise
.

Ronni’s head swiveled from me to Jake, then back to me. She blinked her blue-gray eyes several times, then finally said, “Is something wrong, Dev?”

“Uh . . . we . . .” I stammered. “I mean, I guess you’re okay, huh?”

“Except for him acting like a butthead, yes.” She pointed to her opponent. “He was so freaking excited when I landed on Boardwalk with his hotel on it, he jumped up and knocked over his chair, breaking two of my best china plates in the process. Not exactly the picture of good sportsmanship.” Ronni ran her fingers through her chocolate brown waves, then seemed to remember our melodramatic arrival and asked, “What did you think was happening?”

I explained that it sounded as if she was about to be murdered. I left out the part where I thought her assassin was a Mafia hit man. By the time I finished my account and introduced Jake, Ronni was laughing so hard, it took her a while to shake his hand.

Finally, she got herself under control and said, “Mr. Destruction here is Cody Gomez. He does odd jobs for me when he isn’t at college. And in his spare time, since neither of us has a social life, he comes over and beats the pants off me at board games.”

Cody still seemed stunned by our presence, so I asked, “Do you go to the community college near Sparkville?” When he nodded, I said, “My clerk Xylia Locke goes there, too. Do you know her?”

He nodded again, but didn’t speak. Apparently, the sight of Jake and me exploding into the kitchen had struck him mute, so I gave up attempting to carry on a conversation with him. Instead, I turned to Ronni and asked, “Could we talk to you for a few minutes?” I glanced at Cody. “Alone.”

“Sure.” She gestured to the two empty chairs at the table. “Have a seat. Cody, could you go and look at that parlor door that’s sticking?”

He nodded for a third time, got up, and loped away. He seemed like a nervous kid. I hoped we hadn’t scarred him for life.

“Can I get you something to drink or maybe a snack?” Ronni offered.

“No, thanks. We just ate.” Once we were settled, I decided to plunge right in. “You’ve heard that the writer who spoke to your book club was murdered and his body was found behind my store, right?”

“Of course.” Ronni gathered up tiny green houses and red hotels, putting them into a Ziploc bag. “It’s all over town. Everywhere I go, someone is talking about it. Actually, I was surprised it wasn’t in ‘The Bend’s Buzz’ today, but the column was missing from this week’s paper.”

“That’s because the guy who wrote it is deceased,” Jake drawled.

“Lance Quistgaard was Anonymous?” Ronni yelped. “That supercilious snob wrote that trash? What an SOB! Now I’m glad he’s dead.”

“I take it you had no idea?” I squirmed, trying to get comfortable on the hard wooden seat. You would think with all the extra padding on my butt it wouldn’t be a problem, but it was. “Evidently, Friday night, just before he left the store, a few people from the book club overheard him and the newspaper editor get into a shouting match about his behavior during the meeting, and Quistgaard’s secret identity as the Bend’s Buzzard was revealed.”

“Well, hell.” Ronni scowled. “How did I miss that?” She started to say something, then stopped and glared at me. “That’s why you thought I was in trouble just now. You read that crap about me getting my financing for the B and B from a shady character. You thought I was about to get rubbed out by the Mob.”

As Ronni dissolved into another gale of laughter, I tried to deny her accusation, but eventually admitted that the thought had crossed my mind.

She finally stopped cackling and said, “You know how that rumor got started?” I shook my head, and she explained, “I was flirting with the cute guy who owns the bakery, and I said that borrowing money from my family for my business was worse than getting it from the Godfather himself, because the emotional interest was so high. Someone must have been eavesdropping.”

“Big surprise.” I snickered. “The other day I saw an ad for a T-shirt that read:
IF YOU DIDN’T SEE IT WITH YOUR OWN EYES OR HEAR IT WITH YOUR OWN EARS, DON’T INVENT IT WITH YOUR SMALL MIND AND SHARE IT WITH YOUR BIG MOUTH.
Everyone in town should be forced to own one of those.”

“Definitely.” Ronni nodded vigorously. “Especially since whoever overheard me got the story all wrong.”

“From what we’ve been told,” Jake said, “Quistgaard seemed to get a lot of the facts wrong.”

I explained to Ronni that Jake and I had been trying to help the police figure out who killed the poet by talking to book club members, then told her why I was interested in solving the case.

“Yikes!” Ronni squealed. “Getting shoved down the stairs is bad enough, but then to have that note stuck on your car is really scary.” She shivered. “I’m glad I came right back here after the meeting. I wouldn’t want the killer to think I saw anything.”

“Definitely not.” How had I forgotten that Ronni was one of the first to leave? Now I remembered. She’d gulped down a single glass of wine, then apologized for not being able to stay and help clean up, saying she had to be at the bed-and-breakfast to check in a guest who was arriving at nine. I remembered looking at my watch. It had been about eight fifty when she left the craft alcove. “Did you make it to the B and B in time?”

“Barely.” Ronni folded the game board. “She pulled into the driveway right behind me.”

“Did you hear or see anything odd on your way out the dime-store door?” Jake asked.

“Let me think.” Ronni tapped her chin. “When I walked through the shop, Zizi Todd was having some sort of serious conversation by the cash register with someone I couldn’t see.” Ronni wrinkled her brow. “It looked to me like Zizi was in counseling mode, so I just waved and kept going.”

I chatted with Ronni while Jake checked Ronni’s alibi with her guest, who, luckily, was still staying at the B & B. Once Ronni’s story was confirmed and it was clear she didn’t know anything more, we said good-bye. It was now after nine, and I was feeling more and more guilty about neglecting Gran, so I decided to call it a night and asked Jake to take me back to my car.

As we drove the short distance to my store, I said, “There sure seems to have been a lot going on the night of the book club, but none of it adds up. However, Zizi Todd appears to be in the thick of it. I sure wish I’d gotten to talk to her tonight.”

“Yeah.” Jake parked next to my BMW. “One thing I learned in my years as a marshal is that witnesses are never around when you need them.”

“I hope I can track her down tomorrow.” I unbuckled my seat belt and picked up my purse. “The store closes at twelve on Thursday and I should spend the afternoon making baskets, but—”

“I can’t get away from the ranch until late afternoon,” Jake interrupted. “So you can use the time to fill orders until I come into town.”

“I really don’t think Zizi is the killer, and I’m certain she would be more apt to confide in me if you aren’t with me.” Seeing his frown, I added, “But I’ll make sure she and I aren’t alone.”

“I still don’t like you seeing her without me.” He flipped up the center console.

As I scooted toward the door, I said, “That’s too bad.” Jake’s sapphire eyes were smoldering and I could feel the sparks between us, but this wasn’t the place to do anything about them. After the past few times, I’d vowed that there would be no more make-out sessions in any vehicles. “The community college had its finals last week.”

“And that’s important why?” Jake slid toward me. The intent expression on his face made him look almost predatory, and an excited ping zipped from my chest southward.

“Because”—why did my voice sound so breathy?—“maybe I can get Xylia to come in all day Friday instead of just the afternoon, which would give me more time to work on the basket orders.”

“Ah.” Jake moved closer to me. “I see you have it all figured out.”

“No need to follow me home.” I opened the door and jumped from the truck just as he reached for me. “Gran and Tony have been there all night, so there won’t be any boogeyman hiding under my bed.”

“I’d prefer to make sure.” Jake quickly followed me out of the pickup and backed me up against the side of my car. “I’ll just watch until you get inside.”

“No need.” I edged away from him. “I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can under normal circumstances.” Jake’s expression was determined.

When I silently shook my head no, he sighed in exasperation, and then, with a take-no-prisoners smile, he said, “Don’t I at least get a good-night kiss?”

I went up on my tiptoes, brushed my lips against his cheek, then slipped hastily into my car. Revving the motor, I waved and sped down the alley. Glancing into my rearview mirror, I saw that Jake was still standing where I’d left him. I felt a momentary regret, but knew I’d done the right thing in making a quick getaway.

Jake was like the night—dark, seductive, and very possibly dangerous. Dating him and Noah was one thing. Sleeping with either of them until I figured out which one I really loved would be a disaster. So for now, it was best to keep both of them out of my bed.

On my way home, I thought about the past couple of days. I’d been snooping pretty openly and hadn’t received any more warnings. The murderer either wasn’t aware of my actions or I was so far off the right track, he or she no longer considered me a threat.

Or the killer is waiting to catch me alone.
I shivered. Maybe I should have let Jake follow me home. I wasn’t sure why I had been so against the idea. Was it because I was used to being on my own and not entirely comfortable needing someone else?

Maybe it was that the only person I felt that I could or should depend on was myself. After all, in the past, anytime I’d depended on someone else I’d been disappointed. Which didn’t bode well for a relationship with either Jake or Noah. If I ever really wanted to find my happily-ever-after, I needed to learn how to trust.