Cover Story (3 page)

The three of them walked out to the parking lot. “I don't get it,” Bob finally said. “Is this about Teensy's book? What the hell did she write about?”

“That's a good question,” Mark said. “Do you know, Lizzie?”

Lizzie couldn't stop shaking. Even though a hot breeze wafted across the parking lot, she felt cold to the bone. “I have no idea, except for the title,
The Winds of Desire
.”

“Could it be some other books they were looking for? Does Miz Mathews have a valuable collection or anything like that?”

“Not that I know of. No, I'm pretty sure she doesn't.”

Mark looked away. “What are you thinking?” Lizzie asked.

He looked from Lizzie to Bob. “What if it's something to do with that mess Claydon Mathews was involved in? That came back to haunt everyone after decades. Maybe there are parts of it still not resolved. What if all that ruckus got some other folks to adding two and two, and the four meant they'd been swindled? There could have been other endings that were just as bad.”

“You don't really think that, do you?” Lizzie asked.

“We'll have to track down those books that were delivered this morning and then we'll have one answer, anyway.”

Mark's cell phone rang. He stepped away from them and took the call. Lizzie and Bob just stood there, silent. Lizzie's mind raged. What was happening? Who had hurt Molly? Would she be all right?

Somewhere in the ocean, a shark was missing its cold eyes because this man had them.

THE LOCK ARTIST
—STEVE HAMILTON

“T
hat was Officer Craig. Theodora Coldicutt has just arrived at Molly's house,” Mark informed them.

“We were invited for supper,” Lizzie said and glanced at her watch. Five o'clock. The entire afternoon had gone by.

“Let's get over there,” Bob said. “Maybe now we'll get some answers.”

Mark cleared his throat. “I'll take care of it. Lizzie, you come with me. Bob, I'll be in touch.”

Bob looked like he was about to argue but turned abruptly and walked back into the hospital.

“He's taking it hard,” Lizzie said.

“And that's why I don't want him messing around in this. I'm hoping you'll be able to help with Miz Coldicutt in case she's in any way reluctant to talk about her book. I told them to ask her to wait.” He gave his head a shake. “Bob's right about one thing. If that's what's at the bottom of this, it must be some book.”

• • •

T
hey found Teensy pacing the length of the front porch of Molly's mansion. Lizzie almost stopped in her tracks. At no time had she pictured Teensy as the full-figured woman who came rushing over to them. Her bright red hair was obviously out of a bottle, not the natural shade of Sally-Jo's color. The mass of curls was held back by a wide silver and lime green headband. She wore a billowing chiffon blouse in greens and oranges, white leggings and white sandals, bejeweled and with six-inch stilettos. Her nails flashed a bright orange as she held out her arms to encircle Lizzie in a hug.

“Oh my goodness gracious, sugar. What's happened to our wonderful, poor Mopsy? How is she? Is she seriously hurt?”

Lizzie wasn't able to answer. In fact, she couldn't breathe until Teensy released her and stepped over to face Mark.

“And what, young sir, are the police doing to catch the hooligans who attacked her?”

Mark looked at Lizzie, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Why, everything we can, ma'am. I'm Chief Dreyfus by the way, and I'm hoping you'll be able to help us out.”

Teensy turned and with a flourish of sleeves, teetered over to the front door. “Of course, Chief. Anything I can do to help my dear Mopsy. Can we go inside, though, please and get out of this heat?”

Mark held the door open for them and gestured to the library on the right, the same room where the book club held its monthly meetings. Lizzie looked slowly around the room, wishing she'd see Molly sitting on a chair and everything was all right.

Teensy headed over to the brocade settee. She looked at Lizzie and patted the space next to her. “Now tell me, how is she? The officer here wouldn't give me any details.”

“The doctor thinks she'll be fine. It looks like she was hit on the back of the head and fell to the floor. She'll be sore and bruised and need to rest,” Lizzie said, trying not to stare at Teensy close-up.

Teensy took a deep breath. “Well, I'm certainly relieved to hear that.” She paused and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue. “And I'm just so pleased to be finally meeting you, Lizzie, although this is not the way I'd have wanted it. I knew your mama when she was a youngster and I must say, you're every bit the beauty she was. Now, what do y'all want to know?”

Lizzie was flabbergasted. She rarely was called a beauty. Good-looking, with her long dark brown hair, oval-shaped face, blue eyes and slim figure. But not a beauty by a long shot. Or so she felt. The fact that Teensy had also known her mama, Evelyn, took her by surprise.

“Excuse me, I know this is a shock for you, Miz Coldicutt,” Mark said, steering them back to his questions, “but we're trying to find your books that were delivered here today.”

“My books? What do they have to do with anything? They were delivered. Molly called all excited around ten this morning and said they'd just been delivered. I told her to get on with it and open a box and have a read. There'd be questions at supper tonight.” Teensy sniffed. “That's what I said to her . . . there'd be questions. Oh, Mopsy.”

Lizzie reached over to pat Teensy's hand.

Mark sat down in a burgundy velvet club chair facing Teensy. “The perpetrators asked Molly about the books before hitting her, and there are none of your books on the property. I've sent Officer Craig out to talk to your publisher in case he knows something about this, so we may have some answers soon. We need to know if that's what the attack on Miz Mathews is all about, although it seems awfully strange that would be the reason. But I'm wondering, if the books were stolen, why? What did you write about?”

Teensy stood up with as much flourish as a five-foot-two person could manage and started pacing again. “I've no idea why they would be stolen. That's so absurd. It's just a little—well, four hundred pages, so maybe not so little—romance and mystery. A sort of contemporary
Gone with the Wind
with all the glamour of Southern belles and the like.”

Lizzie couldn't help but ask, “But Miz Coldicutt, what did you do about the civil war plot?”

Teensy stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the front lawn and spread out her arms. “Why, sugar . . . sex trumps war in any plot. I just filled it with lots of hot, steamy sex.” Lizzie realized her jaw had dropped. She took a quick look at Mark, but he appeared about to burst into laughter. That wouldn't do. Lizzie didn't want Teensy's feelings to be hurt.

“And do call me Teensy, sugar. I don't feel much like a Miz these days.”

Lizzie nodded. “Well, I don't see how that could make the books the target of a thief, do you?” she asked Mark.

He cleared his throat. “No, I don't. Are you sure you haven't told someone's deep, dark secret in it?”

“I, sir, would not do that. I am a lady.” Teensy sounded affronted but in an instant, she burst out in mischievous laughter. “It's all fiction, every last word of it, but I did have so much fun writing it. And doing the research.” Her eyes twinkled as she sat back down next to Lizzie.

“That doesn't sound like the type of book someone would steal, but they must have taken the books, because they're not here,” Lizzie said, feeling like she was stating the obvious.

Mark shook his head. “Thank you for your help, Miz Coldicutt. I'll see you ladies to the door now.”

“Is your mama Priscilla Kearns?” Teensy asked as they were leaving. “I think I'd heard she'd married Kenny Dreyfus.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“How is she doing? She used to babysit my next-door neighbor and she'd often be out in the backyard. We'd talk sometimes.”

“She's just fine,” Mark said, his mouth twitching downward. “Thank you, again.”

As the door shut behind them, Lizzie turned to Teensy. “You know, Molly is so delighted you've moved back to town. And she's really looking forward to planning lots of events for your book.” She felt a moment's panic, wondering if that would be such a smart thing to do after all that had happened.

Teensy folded her hands together. “Thank you, sugar. I'm truly pleased to hear that. I missed Mopsy very much. I don't know how much she's told you about our younger years but we were inseparable growing up. We could finish each other's sentences, we knew each other so well. When I left to get married, I had a harder time leaving Mopsy than anyone or anything in this town. It was my own fault that I let the years go by without any contact . . . and I truly regret that. I was hoping we could get the friendship back on track for our later years. She will be all right, won't she?” Teensy asked, a sob escaping her lips. “I didn't leave it too long, did I?”

Lizzie could see the tears forming again in Teensy's eyes. Deep down Lizzie dreaded the thought that Molly might be more injured than she'd been told but she wouldn't let on. “Molly will be just fine. They're taking good care of her so don't you worry. Would you like to come over to my place and I'll make us some sweet tea?”

Teensy shook her head. “No, sugar. I do appreciate the thought but right now I'd kill for a Bourbon so I'll head on home. I'm renting a house on Lee Road while I look around for something more permanent. I'll try to get over to the hospital and visit Mopsy tonight, if they'll let me. And why don't you give me your phone number and we'll talk tomorrow.”

Lizzie wrote it down on a small pad in her bag and passed the note to Teensy as they walked over to their cars. Teensy turned and gave Lizzie a big hug and kiss on the cheek, then got in her car and drove off.

Lizzie stood in place for a few minutes, absorbing it all. Teensy Coldicutt came across a bit over-the-top and somewhat ditzy but she was all heart when it came to Molly. That made Lizzie happy. She knew Molly needed more in her life these days.

Famous last words? I hoped not. I really wanted her to be right.

A SHEETCAKE NAMED DESIRE
—JACKLYN BRADY

“W
hat?” Sally-Jo sat down with a thud. She stared at Lizzie across the counter in her kitchen and asked again, “What are you talking about?”

“Molly is in the hospital with a possible concussion and it looks like Teensy's books are missing. Someone attacked Molly after they'd asked about the books. And now Teensy's books have vanished,” Lizzie explained.

“Is Molly going to be all right?”

Lizzie nodded. “They believe so. But they're keeping her in overnight for observation and will decide tomorrow when she can go home.”

Sally-Jo just sat there with her mouth open, shaking her head. “I can't believe someone would hurt Molly. And for a bunch of books? It just doesn't make sense. Are you sure nothing else was stolen?”

“Only Molly can tell for certain but it doesn't appear so.”

The front doorbell rang and seconds later, Jacob Smith walked into the kitchen. “Hi, Lizzie. I thought that was your car in the driveway.” He gave Sally-Jo a quick kiss on her cheek. “What's up?”

Lizzie went through the story again. Jacob's reaction was much the same. “I just hope she'll make a quick recovery,” he added. “Someone her age . . .” He stopped abruptly when Sally-Jo gave a quick shake of her head.

“I know,” Lizzie groaned.

“But she's going to be just fine,” Sally-Jo said, sounding almost cheerful. “You know how determined Molly can be.”

“Of course she will,” Lizzie said quickly.
She'd better.

“This surely can't be about the books. Has Mark talked to the publisher yet?” Jacob asked.

“Officer Craig went out there but I haven't heard anything.”

“There's got to be some reasonable explanation.”

Sally-Jo went over to the cupboard and pulled out three glasses along with a bottle of red wine and poured them each a glass. “I think we could use this.”

Lizzie smiled her thanks and took a sip. “I think I'll head back to the hospital. Molly said the books had been delivered but I didn't ask if she'd actually seen the book and made sure it was Teensy's. Would you mind calling Stephanie and Andie to let them know?”

“I'll do that for sure,” Sally-Jo said. “But why don't you stay and have some supper with us. We're having sautéed squash and tomatoes along with garlic shrimp, and it's ready. There's plenty. You really should have something to eat.”

Lizzie smiled. “You sound like Molly. Okay, I'll gladly stay for your cooking but I'll eat and run, if you don't mind.”

“Not a problem. Jacob, would you mind setting the table and I'll dish everything out from here? Lizzie, you just sit and enjoy your wine.”

Lizzie cleared a pile of magazines from the chair beside the wall, sat and watched while Jacob found the cutlery and plates with ease. She knew he and Sally-Jo had been seeing a lot of each other but had no idea at what stage they were in their relationship. She hadn't heard anything more about the wife he had separated from nor if these two had made any plans for the future. They both looked happy so that was all for the good.

Lizzie could see through to the living room where the furniture was shoved into the center with huge drop cloths covering it all. She knew the archway into the main hall was being repaired and a built-in bookcase added to one wall but that was the extent of renovations for that room. A paint job was also slated. The sixty-two-year-old house had already received an updated kitchen opening onto the new dining area, which gave the rooms a bright, airy feel. Sally-Jo planned to tackle the upstairs in another year or two.

“How is Teensy taking the news about her books? She must be in a real panic,” Sally-Jo commented, setting their plates on the table. She turned back to the counter for her own.

“She's as shocked as everyone else. And she's crazy with worry about Molly.”

“It just doesn't make a whole lot of sense that someone would do this in order to steal the books.” Jacob was still working through the problem. “What if two different things happened very close together in time? What if the wrong books were delivered to Molly and the publisher had them picked up again for some reason? Maybe a printing error was found and they needed to be redone. And their disappearance had nothing to do with the attack on Molly.”

“But Molly said they asked about those books,” Lizzie pointed out. “And, she didn't say that the original shipment had been picked up.”

“Well, maybe Teensy really did write about a big, dark secret and whoever was involved didn't want it made public.” Sally-Jo added a dish of watermelon salad to the table and sat down with them. “Remember what happened to Derek Alton last winter.”

“Wouldn't that be too weird?” Lizzie asked.

Jacob shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

Lizzie wanted to ask,
Like what?
She ate a shrimp instead. “Yum. This is delicious, Sally-Jo. I'm glad I stayed.”

“You and Jacob are my best fans. It's a pleasure to cook for you. I was wondering, though, about Molly. Is she safe in the hospital?”

Lizzie paused, her fork in midair. “Mark's leaving an officer on guard at her door. I'm really hoping the danger is over.”

• • •

W
hen she finally made it to the hospital, Lizzie found Bob in Molly's room, sitting in a chair beside her bed, holding her hand and talking softly to her. He looked over at Lizzie as she entered the room, a slight red coloring spreading across his face.

Lizzie smiled at them. “I'm happy to see you're awake, Molly. But I'll bet you're feeling awful.”

“I'm feeling pretty groggy is what it is.” A faint smile hovered on her lips. “They give good drugs here.”

Bob laughed. “Well, enjoy them, missy, 'cause you earned them.”

Lizzie pulled over a second armchair that had been pushed against the wall. The orange Naugahyde seat had seen better days. “I just had supper with Sally-Jo and Jacob and they send you their love. None of us can get over what's happened.”

“I'm dumbfounded, also. I hear the boxes of books were actually taken. I just can't believe all this happened because of some books.”

“Did you get a chance to see if it was Teensy's book in the boxes?”

“Yes, I opened one of the boxes.”

Bob looked at Lizzie sharply. “Where are you going with this?”

Lizzie explained Jacob's theories.

“What I do know is the delivery van did not come back to pick up the shipment,” Molly said, her voice a big stronger.

“What about your own personal collection of books? Are there any valuable first editions in it?”

“No, honey. Their only value is of the sentimental variety.”

Lizzie took hold of Molly's hand. “Molly, I'd like you to come and stay with me for a few days once you're released.”

“Thank you, honey, but I'd feel so much better in my own home. I would welcome your company, though.”

“Done. I'll ask Nathaniel to feed the cats.” She felt Bob's eyes on her. She glanced at him, at his raised eyebrows and quick gaze toward the door, and got the message.

“I guess I should be going,” Lizzie said. “I'll stop by after breakfast and see if they've decided when to release you.”

Bob said, “No need to, Lizzie. I'll come by, and if she's ready to go home, I'll give you a call with an ETA and use the Bob Miller taxi service.”

Lizzie grinned. “I hear it gives good service to special clients.” She walked over to Molly and kissed her forehead. “I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

She gave Bob a small wave and left. She stopped by the nursing station to see if she could find out anything else about Molly's condition but they couldn't, or wouldn't, add to what she already knew. She looked back at the police officer sitting on a chair to the right of the door. He nodded. She tried to smile but turned instead and walked to the elevator, tears in her eyes.