Every Trick in the Book (19 page)

Flora moved the menu to the edge of the table. “Thanks, Kathleen, but I don’t need
to see the menu. I’ll just have my usual.”

The waitress grinned, her green eyes twinkling. “Irish stew and soda bread?” When
Flora nodded, Kathleen turned to me. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

“I understand you make a great burger here,” I said, holding the menu but not opening
it.

“Best in the Valley.”

“I’m celebrating, so I’ll take a cheeseburger with the works.” I handed the menu back
to her and told Flora more about my phone calls with Kate and Calliope.

When the food arrived, the aromas were tantalizing. Flora’s stew was loaded with beef
chunks, potatoes, and vegetables, all submerged in a thick gravy. The crust of the
accompanying soda bread was a firm golden brown while the inside appeared dense and
soft. “That looks and smells
really
good,” I said, eyeing her plate and wondering if I should have ordered the stew.

“So does your cheeseburger,” she replied and proceeded to butter a slice of her bread.
“You won’t regret your choice.”

I didn’t. The burger was cooked just right and seasoned to perfection. It was topped
with a slice of sharp cheddar and sautéed mushrooms and onions, and balanced with
sweet slices of tomatoes and fresh leaves of lettuce. The fries on the side were thick,
fresh cut, and crisp. I ate with gusto.

I was dipping my last fry into the dollop of mayonnaise on my plate when Flora smiled
at someone near the door
and raised her hand in greeting. “Yoo-hoo!” she called and then turned back to me.
“Here’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Following her glance, I saw a tall, slim woman coming toward us carrying a leather
overnight bag. Her dark hair was casually pulled back with a clip, and she wore jeans
and a gorgeous, intricately knit cardigan. As she approached the table, Flora stood.

“Tilly! I didn’t know you were still in town.” She hugged the woman and then gestured
in my direction. “This is Lila Wilkins, a wonderful agent in our firm. She’s just
landed her first big deal. Lila, this is Tilly Smythe. She’s a client of mine and
writes the most wonderful YA series about the adventures of an orphan boy trying to
discover the identity of his parents. Her last two books hit the bestseller list,
and we think the series could become as popular as Harry Potter.”

“Fingers crossed,” the woman said as she shook my hand. “It’s very nice to meet you,
Lila.” She glanced around the patio. “There aren’t any free tables anywhere in this
restaurant. I thought I’d pop in for a quick lunch before catching the train back
to Dunston, but—”

“Oh, join us, Tilly. We were just about to order dessert.” Flora had already grabbed
an empty chair from a four-top table occupied by three diners.

After Tilly sat down, I asked, “Could you tell me a bit more about your series?”

“Sure. The books feature a fourteen-year-old boy named Danny who was orphaned as a
young child and doesn’t know what happened to his parents. So he travels around the
country trying to find them and gets caught up in a host of adventures. It’s also
a fantasy, because he meets odd characters
along the way, like elves and people who fly and talking mountain lions. Each book
is set in a different place. The one I’m working on now, the fourth book, takes place
in South Dakota. Danny joins up with a wolf pack that communicates in a special language.
And for some reason, which is yet to be revealed, Danny can understand them.”

As Tilly spoke, her enthusiasm for the project was evident. However, she appeared
somewhat distracted and was continuously looking over her shoulder throughout her
narrative. There was something familiar about her, and I had the sense that I knew
her from somewhere, but I couldn’t place her.

“Have we met before?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. But I was at the book festival over the weekend,
so you may have seen me there.”

I didn’t recall encountering her at the town hall, but parts of the weekend were a
blur, so it was possible. There was definitely something memorable about Tilly—I felt
like I’d looked into her eyes before. And despite her friendliness, those dark eyes
unsettled me.

When the waitress returned to our table, Tilly ordered a salad while Flora chose an
apple cobbler for dessert. I decided to have a Baileys mousse pie with a coffee.

“What are you still doing in town?” Flora asked Tilly. “I thought you were heading
back right after the festival.”

“I spent a few days with my friend, Ginny Callaway, the metal sculptor. I’ve known
her since high school and we’ve been catching up. Plus, I’ve been exploring the town
in depth, thinking I might set one of Danny’s adventures here. I’m finding inspiration
in Inspiration Valley.” She chuckled and pulled out of her bag a spiral-bound notebook
with a hot
pink cover, fanning its pages. “See, I’ve been taking notes and have a loose outline
for the book already.” She suddenly turned her head toward the door, her shoulders
rigid.

At that moment, the waitress brought our food. My Baileys mousse pie was sky-high,
with a mound of cream on top. If I finished it, I’d probably have to undo the top
button of my skirt, but I dug into the treat anyway. It was chocolaty smooth, with
a hint of alcoholic creaminess. Well worth that top button!

Tilly nibbled at her salad anxiously and then leaned forward. “Do you consider this
town safe?” she asked.

Flora looked puzzled. “Of course. I’ve lived here most of my life, and I think it’s
the safest place in the world.”

“But there was that murder at the festival,” Tilly countered. “And I get this feeling…”
She shot a nervous look over her shoulder again.

I touched her hand. “Tilly, the police are pretty certain that Melissa’s murder is
related to either her personal or professional life back in New York. It probably
had nothing to do with Inspiration Valley.”

“But I get the sense that someone is watching me here.” She began to shred her napkin.
“I know it sounds crazy, and I never actually see anyone, but it feels like I’m being
followed.”

I was suddenly struck by a thought. “Did you know Melissa Plume? Did you two ever
meet?”

She shook her head. “I’d never even heard of her before she was murdered.”

Flora pulled out her credit card and waved it at the waitress. “You’re probably feeling
spooked because of the murder. It spooked me, too. You’re safe in this town. And put
away your wallets. This lunch is on me.”

“Thank you, Flora. That’s kind of you. Oh, I’d better get going,” Tilly said, checking
her watch. “Sorry to rush off, but the next train leaves in ten minutes, and if I
cut out the back I’ll just catch it.” She picked up her valise and went through the
gated exit bordering the grassy field that led to the station.

“Is she usually that high-strung?” I asked Flora as I watched Tilly hurry toward the
train station.

Flora shook her head. “Not in my experience. She’s always been a calm, easygoing person.”

“Well, something out of the ordinary is going on with her,” I commented, noticing
she’d left her pink notebook on the table. Perhaps some of Althea was rubbing off
on me, because I was filled with a sense of dread that Tilly’s anxiety was not unfounded.

I FELT RATHER DEFLATED FOR THE REST OF THE DAY. MY
big sale had allowed me an hour or two of elation, but by the time I left the agency
that afternoon, oppressive thoughts sat on my shoulders like a sodden cloak. Melissa.
Trey. Tilly. I was worrying about a woman I’d just met, for crying out loud, but her
discomfort was almost palpable. And more than a little contagious.

A month ago, I would have brushed aside her odd behavior and decided that she was
just another eccentric writer, but not now. Too much had happened for me to ignore
any instinctual warning flags, and since Flora had assured me that Tilly was normally
very even-keeled, her trepidation had definitely set off my “something is amiss” radar.

Even my yellow cottage, toasty warm and smelling of cinnamon candles, didn’t cheer
me up. I cooked myself supper, listened to a voicemail from Sean saying that he was
thinking of me but wouldn’t be able to stop by, and fell
asleep leafing through
Apples for Jam
, one of my favorite cookbooks.

Thankfully, I had so much work waiting for me at Novel Idea on Wednesday morning that
there was no time to brood. I’d barely begun reading my emails when Zach burst into
my office, a wide smile on his boyishly handsome face.

“Come get your sugar on!” he shouted, disrupting the tranquil atmosphere. “We celebrate
with coffee and carbs around here. One of Novel Idea’s agency mottos is that if you
haven’t gone up a clothing size by the end of the year, then you’re not making enough
deals.” He patted his flat stomach and winked. “Except for
me
, of course. I’ve got to stay fit if I’m going to rope in the top athletes. If any
of them saw how fast I’m going to devour one of Nell’s bear claws, they’d make me
do suicide drills on the sidewalk before signing a contract. Let’s go before Franklin
picks all the best stuff.” He gallantly offered me his arm and I walked around from
behind my desk and took it.

I found the rest of my coworkers in the kitchen. They’d ordered a pastry platter from
Sixpence Bakery and a tray of lattes from Espresso Yourself. Outside the window over
the sink, the sky began to darken, threatening a bone-chilling thunderstorm, but I
paid it no mind. It’s amazing how a cup of strong coffee, a pumpkin muffin top drizzled
with icing, and the kindheartedness of friends can make any day feel like summer.

My coworkers entertained me with stories of their first major deals and our laughter
filled the office. Even Vicky joined in and let her self-discipline slide enough to
enjoy half an apple Danish. I looked around the room and smiled. For the hundredth
time, I thought how lucky I’d been to land
this job. No matter what happened, I loved what I did and was truly fortunate to work
alongside such delightful people.

Thus invigorated, I returned to my laptop and stuffed inbox.

The first email that caught my eye contained the subject line “requested material,”
and I immediately recognized the sender’s name. It was from Ashley Buckland, the writer
who’d pitched the cozy mystery series featuring stay-at-home dads turned amateur sleuths.

I began with the query letter and was immediately hooked. Not only was the letter
organized and polished, but the writer’s witty, humorous voice also shone through
each and every line.

“If the manuscript is anything like the query, this is going to be a fun book to read,”
I mused aloud and opened the document.

The first fifty pages were an entertaining romp through the domestic trials and tribulations
of a winsome stay-at-home dad. Ashley began his story with his protagonist, Will MacGillicuddy,
accidentally pouring bleach over a load of his family’s colored clothes, nearly losing
a finger to the food processor, and walking in circles in a superstore in search of
his child’s favorite cereal. Will collides into the shopping cart of another overwhelmed
father, and after transporting their screaming children to the park, the two dads
form the Men at Home support group.

I laughed many times over the course of those fifty pages and found Ashley to be a
skilled writer. He treated real-life parenting experiences with humor, but also with
sensitivity and a genuine depth of feeling. By the point at which one of the stay-at-home
group’s six members is murdered, I had
become so fond of the characters that I wanted to shout, “No, not him! I liked him!”

There were plenty of potential suspects, the murder was handled with tasteful compassion,
and as I read Ashley’s synopsis of how the rest of the book would unfold, I knew it
was a winner. The title,
Deadly Diapers
, needed work, but I was ready to request the full manuscript, and I sent Ashley an
email telling him that I’d like to see the rest of the book.

I’d been so engrossed with Buckland’s writing that my coffee had gotten cold, so I
returned to the kitchen to warm it up in the microwave. Jude was doing the same thing
and we exchanged a laugh over the coincidence.

“It’s amazing how quickly an hour can pass when someone sends you an intriguing proposal,”
Jude said. “I hope my guy responds quickly to my request for the full manuscript,
because if I don’t act fast, someone else is going to snap him up. This author’s got
a really gritty, edgy voice and his material is dark and gripping and a little warped.
I love it.” Jude removed his coffee cup from the microwave and gestured for me to
hand him mine. “Please, allow me,” he added, his seductive mouth curving up in a smile.

As I passed him the cup he intentionally covered my fingers with his. For a moment,
I was transported to the summer evening in which Jude’s mouth had found mine. We’d
kissed once, with what I’d foolishly believed was genuine passion, until we were interrupted.
Now Sean was my man and Jude knew it, but neither of us could deny that a physical
attraction still lingered between us. It had been months since my body had reacted
to his presence, but the air crackled around our fingertips and I nearly sighed in
relief when he finally let go.