Law and Author (15 page)

I stopped, frozen, my hand still flat on the table. There was something that would work even better.

THE ROAR OF THE CROWD—
JANICE MACDONALD

L
izzie pulled over into the first vacant parking space and hurried across the street to catch up to Darla. She wanted it to seem that this was an accidental meeting.

“Hey, Darla. Out doing some shopping?”

Darla turned and when she saw that it was Lizzie, glanced nervously up and down the street. “Uh, something like that.”

“How about if I walk with you?”

A look of panic flittered across Darla's face but she said, “Okay.”

“How are you finding things here these days?”

“I dunno. Okay, I guess. But, like, I don't plan to stick around too much longer, though. I can't without any money.” There was that whine in her voice again.

“What about if you could get a full-time job? What would
you like to do, Darla? If you had the choice of any job, what would it be?”

Darla glanced at Lizzie. “I dunno. I didn't take any schooling after high school, you know.”

“Why is that? Couldn't you find something to study that interested you or were you more interested in going straight into a job?”

“I guess a bit of both.”

Not much there. They walked in silence to the end of the block and then Darla said, “You know my granddaddy Cooper used to spoil me something rotten. I admit it. He gave me an allowance and I never had to look for a job after school. Anything I wanted was mine. But then he got sick and died and my grandmamma wasn't so nice to me. In fact, she told me I'd have to get a job if I decided not to go to college. So what was I supposed to do? I didn't take any of the courses I needed to get into some of the places she suggested, so I got a job training at a hair salon.”

“Don't you need a course for that, too?”

“Oh, yeah, but they help pay for it if you work out real good washing hair and cleaning up the place. I didn't do so well, though. I'm not really handy with a broom and I hated touching other people's hair.”

Lizzie managed to suppress a smile. She could see where that was a dead end. They stopped and looked at the display in the window of Pampered Pets. “You've had other jobs, though?”

“Uh-huh. I tried waitressing but I kept dropping the plates. That really got some of the customers upset. Especially the woman who'd just finished telling me she'd asked for dressing on the side, not on her salad, and sent it all back to the kitchen. I really didn't see her purse sticking out on the floor. I tripped and she got the whole mess down the back of her dress.” Darla chortled. “I was fired on the spot.”

She looked at Lizzie and burst out into full laughter. It took but a few seconds for Lizzie to join in. When they'd both settled down, Lizzie said, “So back to my question, can you see yourself happy doing some specific job?”

Darla actually smiled. “I'd like to help out at a veterinary office. I'm really good with animals. I always had a dog when I was growing up, and seeing them in pain or bloody doesn't bother me.”

Lizzie almost gagged. Maybe that wasn't such a good thing.

“I mean, I feel sorry for them for sure, but I can deal with it and take care of them. I think that's a good thing, don't you?”

Lizzie nodded. “A very good thing. Have you looked into what training you'd need?”

They started walking again and rounded the corner, heading toward the large Target at the end of the street.

“Not really. I've been too busy selling magazine subscriptions, dishing out popcorn at the cinema and working at a call center to do anything more about it.” She said in a whisper, “I need money, Lizzie. I have to keep working not take time out to train for something.”

Lizzie wondered at the change of tone, then noticed Wade striding toward them.

“There you are. I've been looking for you, Darla. We got to be getting back.”

He didn't even greet Lizzie but she said, “Nice to see you, Wade.”

Wade looked at Lizzie and then grabbed Darla's arm. “Hurry up.”

Lizzie was left to follow at a slower pace, which gave her time to think things through. Darla admitted to needing money so the theory about her hitting up Molly for it could still float. On the other hand, Lizzie had seen another side
of Darla, basically a young kid floundering at finding a path in life. She actually felt sorry for the new Darla and wondered if she could help. Maybe help get rid of Wade for starters.

It didn't take long for Lizzie to realize she'd flubbed her chance to ask Darla some more questions about Rafe Shannon. That had been one of her objectives for today's visit, but she realized she was more focused on Darla's relationship with Molly and Bob. Too focused, perhaps. Maybe she should ask Sally-Jo to do the deed and question Darla, if she could get the girl alone. Her plane should have gotten in at noon and although she regretted not giving Sally-Jo a chance to catch her breath, a quick phone call couldn't hurt.

She went straight to the phone when she arrived home, but heard the message beep when she picked it up. Teensy telling her that she'd left for Atlanta and would be back in a couple of days. Lizzie shook her head.
That woman
. Stubborn might cover it. She was partly worried that Molly would find out and partly worried that Teensy might get into some kind of trouble. It had happened before. There was nothing she could do about it, though. Just wait for Teensy to call tonight, as she promised in her message.

Lizzie dialed Sally-Jo's number and resorted to leaving her own message when no one answered.

She was just about to dial Molly next when the phone rang. She was surprised to find it was Fannie Hewitt. It took several minutes of small talk before Fannie got to the point.

“I hope you don't mind my calling you but Teensy suggested it.”

“You spoke to her today?”

“Yes. She called to say she had to go out of town for a couple of days but she wanted me to continue with my writing and thought that talking the plot through with you would be a help. I hope you don't mind?”

Uh-oh.
“No, that's quite all right, Fannie. How is the book coming along?”

Lizzie heard her sigh. “Well, not as quickly as I'd hoped. I'm getting all tangled up in the details. I was going to have my heroine murder her husband and get away with it, but you know, there are so many ways to kill a person but not that many that are foolproof, I'm finding.”

Good
. “Maybe there's a solution other than murder?”

“I wondered that, too, so I thought about having her fake her own death and run away for a fresh start. Of course, she'd pin her murder on her husband.”

“That might be preferable to murder. But have you thought of how she'd start all over? That's pretty hard to do, I'd think.”

“Details, again. There are some books on how to disappear in the library. I checked online so maybe I'll take them out tomorrow.”

“Well, how would she make it look like he'd done it?”

“Easy. She'd suggest they go for a picnic one Sunday and take the canoe, somewhere up river from here, or rather where I've set the book. She'll make sure he gets good and drunk, which will be easy, and then she'll take the canoe out by herself, tip it over, and swim off to where she's hidden a change of clothes and some money.”

“Hmm. I'd think that just looks like an accident.”

“Oh, but she'll be sure to set him up. Tell all her friends, albeit hesitantly, that he's becoming abusive and drinking a lot and beating on her. He's even said he'd kill her if she left him. Then, the police will think that's what he's done. What do you think?”

Oh boy. What to say? Tough call. Murder or framing him?
“I'm leaning to the framing him but I still think you should look at other possibilities. What's her goal? To get away from him? How about blackmailing him into leaving her be?”

Fannie was silent for so long, Lizzie thought she'd lost her. “Are you still there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I was just thinking about everything. You know, I think I'm leaning toward the original plot and killing him. Thanks, Lizzie. You've been a big help. We'll talk again. Bye.”

Lizzie was left holding the phone, mouth agape.
Wait till I get my hands on Teensy. First, going to Atlanta, then siccing this obviously disturbed woman on me.

She hoped Teensy would be back soon to take charge of this mess. Lizzie worried that she just might have to step in and do something, and she didn't have a clue as to what that should be.

“If that's the case,” I said barely above a whisper, “then you have given me no choice but to meddle.”

MURDER, PLAIN AND SIMPLE—
ISABELLA ALAN

D
arla was back on Lizzie's mind. She'd appeared during the morning run and wouldn't leave. Lizzie's plan now was to ask Molly to send Darla over to help out with the book sorting in the afternoon, since it was the final day they'd be at it. The books were just trickling in at this point, so that should give Lizzie and Darla a chance to talk while helping out. Lizzie had been assured by the Readers Are Us book club that their members could take care of anything after this point. The next involvement for the Ashton Corners Mystery Readers and Cheese Straws Society would be at the actual sale, two weeks off.

She took a few minutes to check her email and was pleased she had, as Sally-Jo had sent her one saying she'd be staying a bit longer. No word on how things were going, though. Lizzie hoped that was a good sign. Next, a call to Molly who
readily agreed to contact Darla. Lizzie felt a bit devious not telling Molly the real reason she wanted Darla on site, but she managed to overcome the feeling quite quickly. It was all for Molly's own good.
Oops, that's what Teensy had said.

The cats lay in wait when Lizzie finished dressing and made her way back to the kitchen in search of a second espresso. Brie dashed out at her feet as the catnip-filled cotton mouse slid in front of her. She caught herself midstep, avoiding stepping on Brie's tail. The yowl would have brought Edam at a run, which would have ended up in a tussle, much to Brie's annoyance. She reached down, grabbed the mouse as it was batted past her again and threw it into the hallway. Brie was on it in a flash. Time for that espresso.

She hadn't heard from Bob at all and was dying to know if he'd actually talked to Eddie Riser. She eyed the phone and thought better of it. She'd pay him a visit instead since she had an entire morning with nothing planned. After downing the espresso in three quick gulps, she grabbed her handbag, stuck her iPhone in it and headed to her car.

Halfway to Bob's house, she pulled into a Starbucks parking lot, ducked in, and emerged with two coffees and an oat chocolate brownie in a bag. Bribery would work.

Bob's pickup and a small open trailer he sometimes used for various outdoor projects took up the driveway, so Lizzie parked on the verge in front of his house, overlooking the Tallapoosa River. She followed the sound of hammering and found Bob on his knees at the bottom step to his deck, about to drive another nail in the side.

“Do you have time for a coffee break?” She held out the goodies toward him.

Bob looked at her and removed three nails from his mouth. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

He pushed himself up with a slight groan and Lizzie
realized once again that he was indeed aging. She had to stop and remind herself every now and then that both Bob and Molly were no longer as young and spry as they had been when she was growing up. Although neither would admit to slowing down, the signs were there, and it was sometimes a fine line in between volunteering to help and keeping the involvement minimal. Depending on the day, Bob could be prickly if he thought others believed he needed help.

She followed him up to the Adirondack chairs, set the coffees and bag on the table, and took a seat. She enjoyed looking out at the river, moving slowly around the bend. She could relate to the pull that kept Bob living in the two-bedroom house, despite its age and frequent need of repairs. He also loved the fact that he could just toss out a fishing line from the end of his property and sometimes, if luck was on his side, hook dinner.

“So, what brings you here this morning with these mouth-watering treats? If I were a betting man I'd say it has something to do with Eddie Riser.” He grinned and demolished half the brownie in one bite.

“You got me. We didn't get a chance to talk yesterday and I was wondering if you'd had any luck. Or news.”

Bob finished off the brownie and took a long drink from his cup before talking. “I did and I do.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs in front of him, and stretching out the story, too, Lizzie noted.

“I tracked him down right away and then spent a good part of the day tailing him. That young lad is quite the businessman and he has more luck on his side than a leprechaun. He should by rights be behind bars, but his radar lets him know whenever the law gets close, and he closes up shop.”

Lizzie looked at Bob, waiting for more.

“He's dealing drugs, Lizzie. And he's doing a good
business, too, from the looks of it. And I've written it all down, along with names of his customers, and I'm going to hand it over to the police just as soon as I've figured out what Wade Morris has to do with all this.”

“Was he a customer?”

“They had a meeting of some sort but I didn't see anything exchange hands.”

“That was taking a chance. You sure Wade didn't make you?”

“Make me? There you go with your TV cop show chatter again. But no, he didn't. I've had a lot of practice at this over the years and now that I'm getting on, I just sort of blend even more naturally into the background. You'd be surprised how many old folks go unnoticed out on the street in day-to-day living.”

Lizzie hadn't thought about it. “That's sad.”

“That's life, young lady. And for now, it's an advantage.”

“What are you going to do next?”

“I'm thinking on it. I find nothing gets the brain working better than some good old physical labor. Of course, the step did need some reinforcing, too,” he added with a chuckle.

“What can I do?”

“How are you with a hammer?”

Lizzie leaned across and chucked him on the arm. “I'm better at sleuthing.”

“You
think
you are. I'd say it's getting real dangerous if drugs are involved in any way, shape or form.”

“Do you think Rafe Shannon might have been part of it?”

“We don't know that he ever met up with Riser, do we?”

Lizzie shook her head.

“Well then, that's something we've got to find out.”

“But how?”

“Aside from breaking into Riser's house and checking his records, if he even keeps any . . .” Bob's brow furrowed. “Just
wipe that look of anticipation off your face, young lady. That's not even an option. Now, as I was saying, the only thing to do is ask the police to bring him in for questioning. I'm sure they have plenty of things they can legitimately detain him for. But whether they want to tip their hands, that's the question.”

“Do you think he'll talk?”

“It depends on what's in it for him. He's not going to admit anything since he'll actually be incriminating himself if he says he's dealing. But if they have a pending charge or something already in the works against him, he might be persuaded to talk if they offer to make it disappear.”

“Do you think Mark will go for that?”

Bob shrugged. “It's happened on many occasions. I'll stop by his office this afternoon.” Bob finished off his coffee and picked up his hammer. “On second thought, although I know he doesn't like you poking your nose into police business, I'd bet he's more likely to do it if you ask him.” Bob winked at her. “And he just might believe it's as good a way as any to deflect your investigative ways.”

She smiled back. “You may be right. I'll talk to you later, Bob.”

*   *   *

L
izzie pulled into the parking lot at the police station just as Mark was getting into his Jeep.

He shut the door and walked over to her car.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? It is pleasure, right. Not business?” He pushed his ball cap back further on his head.

Lizzie got out of her car and stood close to him. “I need to talk to you about business, first.”

“Let me guess in two words. Rafe Shannon. Or Wade Morris. Or Darla Lyman.”

“How about Eddie Riser.” She put up her hand before he
could answer. “Who could be the one who knew Rafe Shannon and therefore could get Darla Lyman off the hook.”

Mark sighed and leaned back against Lizzie's car. “What, no Wade Morris?”

“We know, or rather think, that Wade may have tried to buy drugs from Eddie Riser. That just makes him a jerk and someone Bob won't want involved with his granddaughter. We think that Eddie Riser might be the link here.”

“We? Is the entire book club involved again?”

“Just trying to sort things out. Help out Bob.”

Mark glanced at his watch. “I have time for a quick coffee, which is just enough time for you to tell me what it is that you've been up to that leads you to a Shannon-Riser connection.” He pointed down the street and she nodded.

They walked across the street and down a few doors to the Cup'n Choc. There were a few empty tables and after they'd ordered, Mark steered her to the one in the far corner with few people close by. He took off his sunglasses, removed his cap, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Talk.”

Lizzie waited until their cappuccinos had been served before answering. “We're just trying to figure out who knew Rafe Shannon and why he'd be in town. We have one out-of-towner, Wade Morris, hooking up with Eddie. So, what if Rafe Shannon did so also?”

“You think Riser was dealing to him?”

“It's possible, isn't it?”

“Sure, it's possible. We know that's his business and if we had strong enough proof, Riser would be behind bars. How do you think we'll be able to tie Rafe Shannon into him? And, what does that have to do with the murder?”

“Eddie Riser could be the murderer.”

Mark thought about it a moment. “Not likely, though. He's never resorted to violence in the past.”

“But what if Rafe threatened him in some way? It could have been self-defense. What if Rafe was in town to shake up Eddie who might have sold some bad drugs to someone from Atlanta or been selling for someone from there? What if he was, and he absconded with the drugs and the money?”

“That's a lot of what-ifs, and I'd think Riser would be our dead body in that case. I also think you've been reading too many mysteries, which I may have mentioned in the past. These are all suppositions, Lizzie.”

“But what if you bring him in and offer him some kind of immunity or something in exchange for information?”

“I need something definite before I can bring Riser in. We have no proof of any of this.”

“What if you pretend you do?”

“What if you stop coming up with more suggestions?”

Lizzie knew Mark wouldn't budge. “What do you suggest, then?”

“I'll continue to do the police work and track down the killer while you and your merry band of readers, and I say that in the kindest way, go back to your meetings.”

She knew when she'd been defeated, but she also knew that one closed door usually meant at least an open window in some other location.