Every Trick in the Book (28 page)

“Welcome to Novel Idea. I’m Lila Wilkins,” I said to him in a dry rasp. “Please forgive
me. I’m…dealing with some personal issues.” I moved to the door and then turned back
to Jude. “Why don’t you buy Mr. Mason a cup of coffee downstairs? My treat.”

Jude cocked his head quizzically. “I was going to introduce him to Franklin and Zach
first.”

I tapped my watch face and gave him a loaded look. “My friend Sean is on his way here.
And he won’t be alone. This might be a really good time for Mr. Mason to meet the
lovely Makayla.”

Comprehension dawned on Jude’s face. “I could certainly use a caffeine hit. How about
you, Kirk? Care to take a trip down the stairs to Espresso Yourself?”

“I’m a café au lait man, myself, so I’d love to check out the coffee shop. Thanks,
Lila.” A pair of dimples appeared on Kirk’s cheeks as he smiled.

The moment Jude had ushered his new client down the hall, I tried contacting Sean,
but my call went straight to voicemail. That could only mean that he was on foot,
probably racing into the building just as Jude and Kirk were descending the stairs.

“Feel better now, dear?” Flora inquired with concern.

Flashing her a grateful smile, I declared, “I might need to climb back into your wardrobe
in a few minutes!” I then shot out of her office and barreled toward the landing where
Vicky sat primly at her desk, sipping hot tea and humming softly to herself as she
applied address labels to a stack of envelopes.

Jude must have really hustled Kirk into Espresso Yourself, because by the time I’d
set my foot on the first step, they were nowhere in sight. At that moment, the lobby
door was flung open and the sound of hurried footfalls echoed up the stairwell.

Sean moved up the stairs like a high school track athlete, calling out, “Lila!” as
soon as he saw me.

In that single syllable I heard a lifetime’s worth of worry and fear and, yes, love.
Within seconds, he had reached the top and, keeping one hand on his holster, drew
me into his chest with the other. “Where is he?”

“It wasn’t him,” I answered quickly as three other officers bounded up the stairs,
their bodies tense and coiled like a trio of panthers preparing to spring.

“What?” Sean demanded, pulling away in order to face me.

“The Kirk Mason who showed up here today is not Justyn. He’s a middle-aged man with
a bald head and dimples.”

Sean stared at me with disbelief. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Lila.”

“I know, I know.” I raked my hands through my hair.

“Griffiths?” One of Sean’s fellow officers approached us. “You want me to do a sweep?”

He shook his head. “Negative. I’d like you to drive around the downtown district and
see if you can spot our man. I’m
thinking a ten-block radius. You’ve got a copy of the sketch, right?”

It seemed pretty transparent to me that he was trying to get rid of the other cops,
but they responded to his order without question and hurried off, their utility belts
clanking as they jogged down the stairs.

“Your office.
Now
.” Sean gave me a little nudge, propelling me forward. Vicky watched us with a curious
gleam in her eye, but she remained mercifully silent.

Because I didn’t want to have my desk between us while we talked, I dragged my chair
across the floor and pulled close enough to his that our knees touched.

“When did you first hear the name Kirk Mason?” he asked.

I searched my memory carefully before answering. “When I read his query letter, which
really wasn’t a query but a sample of his work. It was very dark and I don’t know
how his book chapter ended up in my in tray, so I passed it on to Jude.”

“Go on,” Sean prompted.

“And then Kirk Mason registered for the book festival using an incomplete address
and requested an appointment at the agent pitch session,” I continued.

“A session that you shared with Jude, correct?”

Nodding, I said, “Yes. But he was there, Sean. Tall, creepy, wearing all-black…and
he left that raven’s feather on my desk. And then, he came after me in the empty hallway.
Even Jude thought he was Kirk Mason.”

“
Justyn
was at the pitch session.
Justyn
came after you, Lila. A
writer
named Kirk Mason had an appointment for a pitch session, but he was unable to attend
that day. Therefore, he wasn’t the man in black.” Sean hesitated and then
forced himself to finish. “You made an assumption based on a stranger’s writing sample.”

The truth of his words hit me full force, and I put my hand over my mouth as if I
could call back my error. “You’re right. Oh, Lord, you’re right! I never had evidence
linking Kirk Mason’s brief passage to the man who sent chills up my spine every time
I looked at him. I heard Jude mention Kirk Mason after the pitch sessions, and later,
that statement led me to believe that the writer was Melissa’s killer. I’m sorry,
Sean. I pointed you in the wrong direction from the beginning.” My eyes grew moist.
“Did my mistake create the opportunity for Justyn to murder Tilly?”

Sean grabbed my arm. “No. Even if you hadn’t given us Kirk Mason’s name, we wouldn’t
have known exactly who to pursue, Lila. We still don’t! We’ve got a black-and-white
sketch and a first name. This bastard has eluded us from the start. He’s like a shadow.
And it’s not your job to catch shadows. It’s mine.” He stood up and held me tightly,
and I let my tears fall. I’d been so scared a few minutes ago and all for nothing.

Too distracted to do any more work, I decided to call it a day despite Bentley’s decree
that I should spend more time at the office. I headed for the exit with Sean, after
informing Vicky that I’d be in to work very early the next morning to make up for
today’s absences. Although tomorrow would be Saturday, most of us planned to come
in to the office anyway, to get caught up with extra work we had pushed aside during
preparations for the festival.

As we stepped onto the sidewalk, a light flashed in my eyes. Then another. Someone
was taking photographs of us. I clutched Sean’s arm.

A freckle-faced young man with a Nikon slung around
his neck advanced toward us, clutching a pen and notepad. “Can you give me a statement
about what happened up there?”

“No comment.” Sean immediately stepped in front of me, obscuring the photographer’s
view. While I appreciated the gesture, I wanted to know who the reporter was and peered
around Sean’s head to see.

“Aw, come on! Four cops go rushing into the town’s literary agency and you can’t tell
me why? The public deserves to know what’s going on.” He showed us his press card,
indicating that he worked for the
Dunston Herald
. I didn’t recognize him from my time there. He stuck the card back in his pocket.
“I can ask around, you know, but I’ll probably get a distorted view of the situation.
Wouldn’t it be better for me to hear the story from a reliable source?”

I whispered in Sean’s ear, “We should talk to this guy. If Justyn’s name appears in
the paper, people who know him might come forth with information.”

The journalist’s eyes widened and he wrote something in his notepad. “Justyn? Who’s
Justyn?”

Sean sighed and turned to me. “You go on home, Lila. I’ll deal with this guy.” He
moved as if to kiss me but then seemed to think better of it and squeezed my hand
instead. “I’ll call you when my shift is over.”

I MANAGED TO
make it back home before the rain began. Since I couldn’t walk outside, I donned
gray sweatpants and a T-shirt and headed for my treadmill. The opening bars of “I
Will Survive” blared out of the CD player as I started to build up my stride. After
two minutes of warm-up, I ran
faster and faster. Breathing hard, I let myself be hypnotized by the rhythm.

But the cadence of my pounding feet could not completely still my mind. Throughout
the monotony of my jogging, I couldn’t shake the recollection of how frightened I
had been in mistakenly thinking that Justyn—in my mind, Kirk Mason—was coming to my
office to kill me. Whatever might have happened at the agency this afternoon, I’d
been certain that I’d finally see an end to the horrors of the past week. I had believed
our questions would be answered and the mystery solved.

But it was far from over.

And no matter what Sean said, my blunder in believing that Kirk Mason was Justyn had
misdirected the police. I had to rectify that somehow, to figure out who and where
Justyn was. I needed to redeem myself, not just in Sean’s eyes but also in my own.

Out of breath and sweaty, I felt better now that I’d resolved to take action. Slowing
my pace, I stopped the machine, wiped my brow, and gulped some water. The relentless
thudding of the bass on my exercise CD was aggravating now that I was no longer running,
and I turned off the stereo. But the thumping continued. Puzzled, I stared at the
speakers.

“Mom! Are you home?” Trey’s muffled voice came down the hallway and I realized that
he’d been banging on the front door. I hurried to open it, finding my son standing
on the porch with Jeff. Both boys were flushed and bright-eyed.

“We have a report,” Jeff said importantly.

“Come on in.” I stood aside to let them in the house. “Sorry, I’m a bit sweaty. I
was just working out.”

“So that’s why you didn’t hear us ringing the bell. Were
you getting your disco on again?” Trey followed Jeff inside, then led the way to the
kitchen. “We went to your office, but the secretary said you’d gone home.” He opened
the fridge and peered in. “Don’t you have any sodas?”

I shook my head. “Just orange juice and milk.”

As Trey poured juice into two glasses, Jeff shook off his jacket. “We found out what
they’re up to at the co-op,” he said with a broad grin.

“‘Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end,’” I said, quoting Lewis
Carroll.

“Huh?” Jeff looked perplexed.

“Don’t mind her.” Trey rolled his eyes. “She’s always quoting books. I happen to know
that’s from
Alice in Wonderland
, because she used to say it to me when I was a kid and she wanted to know everything
about my day.” He handed Jeff his drink.

I smiled at my son. “Good memory, Trey. Now, tell me what you found out about Red
Fox. What are those meditation sessions exactly?”

Jeff chugged his juice and pulled a small plastic bag out of his pocket. It was filled
with dark brown, shriveled nuggets attached to black stemlike threads. They looked
vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite identify them.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked. “And what does it have to do with the co-op?”

“These are ’shrooms, ma’am.” Jeff held them up.

“’Shrooms?” I repeated, mystified at first, and then horrified. “You mean
hallucinogenic
mushrooms?”

“Yup. For two hundred bucks, you get this little bag and a session on how to use them
safely.” He tossed the bag on the table. “I didn’t try them ’cause I know that’s not
what you wanted me to do. I didn’t want to break the law, either.
These things scare me. But I pretended to chew on some so Jasper wouldn’t catch on.”

Understanding that I’d sent Jeff into a truly compromising situation, I was overcome
with a wave of guilt. Weakened, I sat down.

“Can you believe it, Mom?” Trey touched the plastic packet of mushrooms. “I’m helping
them cultivate edible mushrooms for the grocery store, and all this time they’ve been
growing these! ’Shrooms aren’t innocent like weed. They’re
dangerous
.”

My mouth went dry as the implication of their discovery sank in. I moved to the sink
and poured a glass of water. “All drugs are dangerous, Trey.” I took a sip.

“Whatever.” Trey clearly wasn’t looking for a lecture. “Tell her what happened, Jeff.”

Jeff took out a sheet of paper. “Well, Jasper recited a bunch of rules before we could
unzip our bags.” He read from the page.

He snorted. “Like I trust Jasper! Anyway, you can read the rest yourself.” He handed
me the list.

I scanned over the warnings about side effects, bad trips, and advice on only trusting
mushrooms from a reliable source to ensure they are not poisonous. I noticed that
there was absolutely no reference to the Red Fox Co-op anywhere on the sheet. Worriedly,
I glanced at Jeff. “You really didn’t try them?”

“Honest, Ms. W. I pocketed the bag to bring to you and just started acting weird like
everybody else there. They were bouncing around the room, laughing at everything.
Jasper was the only one who stayed straight, but I did a pretty good job of fooling
him, I think.” He shook his head. “Still, it was scary seeing what the ’shrooms were
doing to the other kids. Turned them into total idiots.”

I reached over and briefly touched his hand. “I’m sorry to have put you through that.
It was irresponsible of me to send you into a situation that could have caused you
harm.” The culpability I felt over giving money to a young man to buy drugs was overwhelming.
“I’m just glad you’re all right.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged. “Yeah, I’m good.” His cheeks flushed.
“I’m kinda glad I saw what it was all about. Definitely turned me off ’shrooms.”

“Well, I suppose that’s one good thing to come out of this experience,” I said, picking
up my purse from the counter. “And I owe you fifty dollars.” I handed him the money.

Jeff stuck the bills in his pocket. “Thanks.” He stood and reached for the bag of
dried mushrooms, then pulled his hand back. “I guess you want to keep those, huh?”

I looked from him to Trey. “What do you boys think we should do with them?”

“I’m going to bring them to the police,” Trey said emphatically. “Jasper’s gone completely
against the co-op’s philosophy with these, and he should be stopped.”

Panic lit Jeff’s eyes. “You won’t tell them that I bought them, will you?”