A Killer Read (24 page)

Sally-Jo, unfortunately, was of little help as she seemed to take it at face value, simply someone’s attempt at writing
a story. Maybe she was right, but Lizzie couldn’t shake the feeling that the manuscript was a link to something more important.

Maybe she should ask the book club to read the manuscript, she thought yet again. Only this time she’d actually follow through with the idea. They would be totally unbiased. She would not include any of the mystery surrounding its appearance, just ask them for comments. Maybe throw in some leading questions but basically, just have them read it or listen to it, and see what they think.

Call an emergency meeting for tomorrow.
She’d hold it at her house if Molly wasn’t able to host them. She should have thought of this earlier and asked while she was at Molly’s. Oh well… she’d call Molly first thing tomorrow.

T
he cats beat her down the stairs the next morning and waited impatiently beside their bowls. She fed them and changed the water dish before getting dressed for her run.

She couldn’t believe how beautiful the morning was. Often, Indian summer stretched through the fall months, closing in on winter. If someone wanted four distinct seasons, Ashton Corners, Alabama, was not the spot to live. But for those who savored the warm days and crisp nights, as Lizzie did, it was the perfect place. She noticed how the bright green leaves of the elderberry had given way to a flurry of colorful earth tones and that the usual sweet peas and dahlias often found in many summer flower beds had been replaced by goldenrod and forsythia sage.

The smell in the air was entirely different also, drifting from sweet to tangy. More a promise of chestnuts roasting on an open pit. Her mind played with comparisons as she snaked through the sleepy side streets until she found herself in front of Stephanie’s apartment. It had not been a conscious
decision to run over here; in fact, the distance was likely longer by half than her usual route. She checked her watch. Even if she dared to knock on the door at this unseemly hour, she didn’t have the time to follow through and try to get Stephanie to talk.

E
veryone had sounded eager to get together again, when Lizzie finally reached them with the suggestion to reconvene the book club. Especially Molly.

“You know I so enjoy having people here,” she said that evening, as they finished putting the glasses on trays and the sweets on plates. “It stops me from just sitting around and brooding about this whole business.”

Sally-Jo gasped. “Molly, are you still worrying yourself? You know the police have other avenues of enquiry by now. You don’t think you’re still the primary suspect, do you?”

“Well, you never know how that Officer Craig’s mind works. She’s called me up a couple of times in the last few days with what she calls ‘follow-up questions.’ They’re really just the same old thing but presented in a different way. Now, if she’s not trying to trip me up, I’d say we’re wasting a good salary just having her sit around and rethink things.”

Lizzie chewed on her bottom lip. She hadn’t realized
Officer Craig was still hounding Molly. They needed to find out the identity of the murderer, and the sooner the better. She absently grabbed a cheese straw from one of the plates and felt Molly’s hands on her back.

“Now, you go in and visit with Bob and Jacob. Someone needs to keep those two in line. I’ll just finish up here, and Sally-Jo can help me carry it all in.”

Lizzie nodded and gave her hands a quick wash in the sink before joining the two men in the library. “Sorry to leave you on your own, but we were just getting the food ready,” she said as she entered the room.

“That’s the best excuse in town, Lizzie,” Bob said with enthusiasm. “But I notice your hands are empty.”

Lizzie laughed. “Molly thought I should play hostess while she finishes the last touches. I’m glad you were able to come tonight. Both of you.” She looked at Jacob.

“I’m betting,” Jacob said, “that rather than discuss fictional murder plots, we’ll be focusing on one very real one.” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Not hard to figure that out, I guess,” she answered. “I’ll just wait till everyone’s arrived so I won’t have to say it twice. In the meantime, read any good books lately?”

He laughed. “You mean, besides the assigned reading? Then, no… only law books and they haven’t been overly interesting, I’m afraid. Just useful.”

Lizzie looked at him a few moments before answering. She was picturing him standing across the street from the Book Bin, kissing the beautiful blonde stranger, a part of her wishing she were bold enough to ask him about it right now.

“One out of two isn’t bad,” she finally said just as the doorbell sounded. “Oh, I’ll get that.”

She rushed off to the front door. Andie and Stephanie arrived together and followed her into the room, just as Molly and Sally-Jo came from the kitchen with the trays of drinks and food. Greetings were followed by the serious business of choosing snacks. Lizzie watched Jacob watching
Sally-Jo. Surely he couldn’t be two-timing her. But just who was that woman, in that case? When Lizzie had finished her cheese straw, she decided to get down to business.

“The reason I called you all here— I’ve been dying to say that—”

“So to speak,” said Jacob, and everyone laughed.

“Um, yeah. Anyway, I’ve mentioned to a couple of you that I’ve been receiving chapters of a manuscript in my mailbox, usually every couple of nights. In the middle of the night, I might add. All very secretive.” She looked around the room. She’d decided, at the last minute, that reading it aloud would be a faster process than everyone taking it home for a day or so.

“Who’s the author?” asked Jacob.

“Is it a mystery?” Stephanie chimed in.

“Everything about it is a mystery,” Lizzie said. “In fact, I have no idea who’s writing it. At first I thought it might be a student from my literacy class or maybe even Andie.” She looked over at her. Andie shook her head vehemently.

“But it’s a very unusual story. And I would like to read it to you without saying anything more about it. Get your opinions on it. The chapters are very short, so it shouldn’t take too long. Would that be all right with you all?”

Everyone nodded their agreement. Bob piled his plate high with pecan cookies and cheese straws, and Andie refilled her drink. Then Lizzie began reading.

She’d check with them at the end of each chapter to make sure she should read on and all agreed. When she finished the twelve chapters, it was going on ten o’clock.

“Now, first impressions?” she asked.

Jacob leaned forward and spoke first. “You know, I understand it’s a novel, but it sounds almost like a journal. Of course, that could be partly from the way you’re reading it.”

Molly nodded. She’d sat beside Jacob on one of the settees and was watching him. “I’d agree with Jacob. It’s very intriguing. I think we’re leading up to some gruesome deed
here. But it doesn’t have the flow you’d find in a novel. What do you think, Sally-Jo?”

“Oh, I’ve read it and at first, it was just an interesting read. But, particularly now that I’ve heard it aloud, I’d add my vote to the journal.”

Stephanie had been knitting away quietly. “But who dropped it in your mailbox and why?”

“Those are my questions, too, Stephanie.” Lizzie noticed that Stephanie seemed much more at ease tonight. Maybe the phone calls had stopped, or perhaps she just was relieved she’d told someone about them.

Lizzie looked over at Bob. “What do you think, Bob?”

He roused himself from some deep thought. “I don’t honestly know what to think, Lizzie.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know.”

He looked bewildered, not a very Bob Miller look, and he hadn’t finished his plate of goodies. Lizzie wondered what, if anything, that meant.

“Do you mind if I borrow it?” he asked. “I’d like to have a read. It’s sometimes hard to get everything when it’s read out to you, ya know?”

“Sure.” Lizzie stuffed it all back in the large manila envelope and passed it to Bob. “Anyone have any suggestions?”

Andie sat at the edge of her seat. “We could stake out your place when the next one’s due. See who brings it.”

“It’s a possibility, but that might be tonight and it’s a school night for you.” She looked at her watch. “In fact, I think you’d better get on home or your mama’s not going to be very happy with me.”

Andie snorted. “She’s at some social club or something. Won’t even know what time I get home.”

“But I’ll know, and I think you should get a good night’s sleep on a school night.”

Andie looked so crestfallen that Lizzie added, “But thank you, I do appreciate the offer. Maybe you could do some more online searches if you have some time tomorrow. See
if you can find any reference to a story about a male suicide in, say, the mid-1950s to 1970s, and keep the search to southern Alabama.”

“That’ll get you a whole whack of hits, I’m sure,” Jacob said.

“But I don’t think they’d all make the newspapers, would they? This might have if they wanted donations for the family or if the land scheme was famous enough,” Lizzie suggested.

“I’ll do it,” Andie said, “even if it’s hundreds of hits. I have two free periods in a row tomorrow— just the way the timetable works out this week— so lots of time to do it. All right, I’ll head home if you’re ready, Stephanie.”

Stephanie nodded and put her knitting away in the bag. As she pushed herself out of the chair, Jacob jumped up to give her a hand. She smiled her thanks and once standing said, “Maybe I can call around to the others in the literacy class and work into the conversation a question about the story, see if any of them are the writer?”

“That would be great,” Lizzie said. “Thanks, both of you, for coming out tonight.” She and Molly walked them to the door. “Is everything all right with you, Stephanie?”

“No phone calls today at all.” She smiled. “We’ll see.” She thanked Molly and left with Andie close behind.

“Do you have any idea at all what’s behind this manuscript?” Molly asked before they headed back to the others.

“None. Yet. How are you feeling about everything, Molly?”

“Actually, much better now that I’m not just sitting around waiting for Officer Hotshot to slap the cuffs on me.” She hooked her arm through Lizzie’s and started walking back to the library. “You know, I meant to tell everyone earlier on but just didn’t get the chance. I got to thinking: Claydon and most of the fellows his age were in the local Elks club. So I wondered if Frank Telford had done the same. I called Saul Carstairs, one of Claydon’s old cronies,
and asked for a contact in Stoney Mills, which he gave me. Then I drove over there this morning and talked to this fellow, Arthur Lee. He remembers Frank Telford, says he was quite the flashy businessman but says he dropped out of the Elks in the late 1960s and he didn’t talk to him after that. He became real antisocial, never acknowledging anyone when he’d stop in town for shopping.”

“Did I hear right, Molly?” Bob asked as he came through the door. “You went over to Stoney Mills on your own, investigating? Are you getting foolish in your old age, woman?”

Molly’s jaw dropped open. “Foolish? Are you calling me foolish, Bob Miller?”

“Well, you’re not Agatha Christie or Miss Marple or any of those fictional folks you like to read so much. And there’s a killer out there. Next time you decide you need to take a little trip to do some investigating, you call me, do you hear now? We’ll do it together.”

He shook his finger at her and stomped out the door.

“Why I never,” Molly gasped.

“He’s got a point,” Lizzie said. “That was a clever connection, but you could have put yourself in danger.”

“Oh, pshaw. We’ve got to try to figure this out. There’s just too many strange things happening— the murder, the manuscript and your phone calls. I hope you’re locking your doors at night, young lady.”

“Oh, I am all right. And better than that, I had a police officer offer to sleep at my place— on the couch, I might add— last night.”

“Not Officer Hotshot, I hope.”

Lizzie laughed. “Not on your life.”

Molly smiled. “Good lad.”