Cover Story (6 page)

Light reading is not light writing.

MARGERY ALLINGHAM

M
ark's Jeep was still nowhere to be seen in the police parking lot so Lizzie spent a few hours doing errands and then headed home. The cats came scrambling down the stairs as she deposited her purse on the kitchen counter. She glanced at the clock. Dinnertime all around.

Edam and Brie sat in front of their dishes, patient for a change.
Just like well-trained dogs.
She wondered if Mark was able to take a break and feed Patchett, his year-old hound. When a murder investigation took over his life, Mark often found it hard to get around to the normalities, like meals, sleep and his dog. She checked the phone, just in case Mark had left her a message. Sure enough, he had, asking if she could walk and then feed Patchett. She had a key and knew the routine so it would not be a problem.

But first, the cats. After topping up their dry food dishes and taking a few more moments to stroke their gleaming beige fur, she grabbed her purse and keys and drove to Mark's house, just five blocks away. Her own dinner could wait.

Patchett started his long, morose yowl the minute she stepped on the front porch. She braced herself as she unlocked the door, commanding him to stay when she shoved it open. Much to her delight, he sat down, although within inches of the door, allowing her just enough room to squeeze through. All those hours in dog-training classes had paid off for her. Mark had been saying for many months she should attend them along with him but it never happened. When he finally asked her to take his place for a few sessions, she knew their own relationship was on solid ground. It had to be love to allow your girlfriend into that sacred man-dog union.

They walked for half an hour and then she let him off leash at the high school football field and threw a grungy tennis ball for him to retrieve. When her arm started feeling sore, she hooked him up and they went back home for his meal. Although she was first and foremost a cat person, Patchett, with his long, sloppy ears and hangdog look, had won over her heart. She left him slurping water and went home.

She sent Mark a text letting him know all was well with his dog, and then gave Molly a quick call.

“How are you feeling? Are you in bed? Did I disturb you?”

“Good. No and no.” Molly laughed. “You sound a bit breathless, honey. What have you been up to, or should I even ask?”

“I've been walking Mark's dog, that's all. Now that he has two murders, he'll have even less time than before for other things, be it four- or two-legged.” She paused, wondering if Molly had heard about the other body. Should she have even mentioned it? She hadn't meant to but, as usual, there it was.

“I know. Bob is over here. He picked up some takeout and we're just about to eat. He's very upset that the body was found right out in his backyard, such as it is.”

“Did he know the guy?”

“He said they haven't been able to identify him as yet. The face was apparently damaged.”

Lizzie could hear the revulsion in Molly's voice. Better to have this discussion with Bob.

“Well, I'm glad he's there with you for a while. Enjoy the evening and I'll call you tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks, honey. I look forward to that.”

Lizzie wondered if Molly meant the morning phone call or the evening with Bob. She fixed herself a tuna salad and sat down to read. Teensy had emailed her the manuscript as promised. She turned on her iPad, checked the page count and groaned. She'd be reading all night, maybe all week.

Her meal was long finished and the light in the room starting to fade when the phone rang, pulling her out of the plot.

“Lizzie, it's Mark. I thought I'd take a short break. Do you have the fixings for a cheese sandwich if I stop by?”

“Toasted?”

“Uh-huh. I'll see you shortly.” She hung up and turned on a table lamp in the living room, then went into the kitchen to start fixing the sandwich. She also pulled a Coors out of the fridge. One beer wouldn't hurt, even though he was still working.

She'd flipped the sandwich out of the grill and onto a plate as the back door opened. Mark entered and walked over to where she stood at the counter with her back to him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck on the left side.

“Hey. I hope you're Mark and not some housebreaking lowlife because I'd hate to have to report you, that feels so good.”

Mark laughed. “Fickle woman. Umm. That smells good. Thank you.” He spotted the beer on the counter and flipped the tab off. After taking a long drink he poured the rest into a glass.

Lizzie set his plate on the table and sat down across from him. He smiled and started eating. After a couple of bites he stopped long enough to say, “Tastes as good as a steak.”

“There must be a reason for such a hallucinatory statement. When did you last eat?”

He shrugged. “Morning sometime. So my pal Patchett at least had a date with a beautiful gal tonight.”

Lizzie felt herself blushing.
Come on now, you've slept with the guy and you're still blushing?
“He was very well behaved. We walked then he retrieved for a while. And then he ate. His table manners still need polishing up.”

Mark nodded and got back to his own meal, not talking again until he was finished. “Thank you, ma'am. I needed that.”

“Thank you for the ‘ma'am.' Now I feel fifty years old.”

“Not you. Not with that body.”

“Oh my, kind sir. How long did you say your break was?”

He stood up and pulled her out of her chair, giving her a long, deep kiss that left her breathless. “Not long enough, I'm afraid.”

“Time for a quickie? Espresso, I mean.”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

Mark sat back down while Lizzie made them each a cup. When she'd set it down in front of him she asked, “What's this about a body being found at Bob's place?”

“I suppose the entire town knows by now. His prints are in the system but we're not releasing any information as yet except that he was killed sometime midmorning. The postie found him around noon. There's not much traffic on the road that time of day and most of the neighbors are too far apart, or not at home. It was pure luck Jacob Smith had taken the day off. Says he was helping Sally-Jo with some of her renos and had gone back home for a tool he needed.”

“It's weird, don't you think . . . two bodies in two days?”

Mark nodded. “Now don't go trying to make a connection, because at the moment, there is none. And it's just one big puzzle.”

“Any other pieces?”

Mark looked at her a long time before answering. “Now, I know you enjoy reading mysteries and are a naturally curious woman, so I will tell you, but since this has nothing at all to do with you or your book club this time, treat it as strictly information. Okay?”

“Fine.”

“Officer Craig found several twenty-dollar bills in the victim's pocket.”

“And that's a clue because . . . ?”

“They're counterfeit.”

Lizzie wasn't sure what to say. Of all the things Mark could have mentioned, that had never occurred to her. She thought about it for a few minutes.

“Is this all coincidence? Molly's being attacked; the stolen books; Orwell Rivers's death; and another body found at Bob's?” she finally asked.

“You're forgetting to add the counterfeit to that list.”

“That's just too bizarre. How do you think it ties in?”

Mark shook his head. “Damned if I know. Yet.”

“Changing the subject, just slightly, Molly's all keen to get on with Teensy's book launch. Do you think that's wise? Might they still be in danger?”

Mark gave it some consideration before answering. “I don't really know, Lizzie. It appears that Molly's attackers got what they came for so she should be fine. The murder of the publisher may or may not be tied in to that. And we still don't know why they wanted the books, but Miz Coldicutt seems convinced she hasn't written anything damaging or controversial. Have you read it yet?”

“I've just started it.”

“Well let me know, and soon, if you find anything, please.”

“What about Teensy's books? I'm going ahead at this point with the planning of the launch and it's scheduled for the last Sunday of the month. Books are usually an integral part of a launch. Although, I suppose if worse came to worst, we could hold a ‘non-launch'. Actually, that's not a bad idea.” She sat forward on the couch, warming to the direction her mind was going. “We could have Teensy read some chapters from her manuscript, blow up a huge copy of the cover, which I'm hoping she has, and take orders for the book.” She smiled, pleased with herself.

Mark chuckled. “I think you may have a future in public relations. Give me another day or so. I'll make a point of stopping by the DA's office and try to sort it out.”

Lizzie smiled. “Thanks, Mark. That would mean a lot to two old friends.”

“It's the younger friend I'm trying to impress.”

I hate mornings. They start so early.

PLUM SPOOKY
—JANET EVANOVICH

L
izzie was just crawling into bed after spending the rest of the evening following Mark's visit by reading some more chapters of Teensy's book and then, for a change of pace, going over last-minute details for Teensy's launch. Mark had promised to make amends for all his working hours when he could. She'd played around with that notion for a while and wondered what she could do to speed up the solving of the murders. She wondered if the book club could come up with a plan.

The phone rang and Lizzie glanced at the caller ID before answering it. Andie Mason. An odd hour for her to be calling.

“Hey, Andie. What's up?”

“Hey, Lizzie, I've got a big favor to ask you.” She sounded out of breath. “It's a really big one.”

“I need to know what it is before I can answer,” Lizzie said, hoping it would be something she could help her with.

“Yeah. Well, my folks are going away again. This time on a two-week Alaska cruise—well, three weeks in total—and they won't let me stay here on my own. They want to ship me off to stay with an aunt who doesn't have any kids or even like them, in Michigan of all places. You can't let them do that to me, Lizzie. Not with only a few weeks more of summer vacation. I can't just dump my friends.” The pleading brought Andie's voice several octaves higher.

“I can see why you'd be upset but I don't know what I can do,” Lizzie said cautiously.

“Can I stay with you, please? I'll be real quiet; you won't even know I'm there. And I'll do absolutely everything you say. And I'll help around the house, do the dishes, vacuum, you know, things like that. Play with the cats, too. Please, Lizzie? You're my only hope.”

Lizzie wanted to ask why she couldn't stay at one of her friends' houses but realized she'd probably already tried that and it wasn't going to fly. She liked Andie a lot; she sympathized with her and her predicament, but to have someone else staying that long, and a teenager to boot? Lizzie didn't think she could do it.

“Maybe I can help with extra things for the launch,” Andie threw in.

“It's not as if that should be a priority for you, Andie, even though I certainly do appreciate your help. It's just that I'm not used to having anyone staying with me. Do you understand?”

“Totally.” Andie didn't sound mad, just very dejected. Lizzie could picture her, with whatever color her hair was this week, slumped in a chair or facedown on her bed, tears close to shedding although Andie would be tough enough not to give in to that. Or maybe that was only her public face.

Lizzie had no idea what life was like in the Mason house. She'd never had a normal home environment since her daddy had died. But she did know that Andie often felt neglected, that the Masons placed far more emphasis on their social lives than on the emotional well-being of their daughter.
Oh boy
 . . .

“Do you think your parents would agree to it?” Lizzie asked, wondering what she was getting into.

“I'd make them,” Andie shrieked, sounding revived. “Oh, Lizzie, thank you, thank you. You won't be sorry. I promise.”

“Well, you'd best ask them before you start packing. When are they leaving anyway?”

“On Wednesday morning.”

“Oh.”

“I'll ask them first thing in the morning. I'll get up early and nab Daddy before he goes to his golf game. I'll call you as soon as I know. Oh, thank you, Lizzie.”

After they'd hung up, Lizzie sat shaking her head. Was that not just the craziest thing she'd ever done?

• • •

L
izzie was out the door by six
A.M.
, hoping to complete her early-morning run before the heat of the day settled in. She knew several teachers who weren't bothered when the thermometer hit the high eighties but Lizzie knew her own limits. And to her, the exercise wasn't worth the discomfort.

She decided to cut through the football field at the back of Stonewall Jackson High School and run along the path beside the Tallapoosa River. She fell in about thirty feet behind another female runner, pleased their paces matched and they could continue their own form of morning meditation. For Lizzie, it was a time to sort through a mental agenda and plan her day and then try to do the final couple of miles clearheaded and communing with nature.

When they reached Glendale Park in the town center, the other runner kept to the river path while Lizzie veered into the park and back out the main gates, looping back toward her home.

Her mind came to rest on thoughts about Andie. Lizzie wasn't used to having anyone around all the time, although knowing Andie, she'd be out doing her own thing a lot. Should Lizzie worry about that? She'd never had any reason to doubt that Andie was a sensible young girl who hadn't gotten into any trouble. But would Lizzie be responsible for Andie as long as she lived under the same roof? That was quite a commitment. Could she handle it? Maybe there was nothing to worry about. Andie's parents might not allow it in the first place. She thought that sounded reasonable and tried to finish her run in a more meditative state of mind.

After a quick shower she put on a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts and an orange T-shirt and padded around the kitchen in bare feet while getting breakfast ready. She ate a bowl of granola with fresh berries and checked the clock. A bit too early for the stores to be open but she could stop by the farmer's market that set up throughout the summer months in the parking lot of the old county office that was now a regional museum on Madison Street. She'd stock up on fresh veggies and buy three big bouquets of summer flowers, one she'd take to her mama when visiting her tomorrow, one for her date for dinner at her best friend Paige Raleigh's house, and the other she'd take over to Molly's house later today.

She was just about out the door when the phone rang. She grabbed it on the fourth ring.

“Lizzie, it's Molly. Teensy's just stopped by with some good news about the books. Could you come join us for some coffee and buttermilk scones with some delightful Stone Fruit Preserves she brought over? We can get on with the planning. Do you have time this morning?”

“Sure do. I'll be by shortly,” Lizzie said and rang off. Wow. That was fast work if Mark had already been able to get the books released.

She decided to make a quick detour and stop at the market, and dashed into the first stall selling flowers and bought three bunches. She arrived at Molly's twenty minutes after receiving the phone call.

“These are for you,” she said, handing one bouquet to Molly. “Fresh from the market this morning.”

Molly hugged her. “How beautiful these are and how thoughtful. Thank you, honey.”

“Do you mind if I just put these others in water until I leave? They're for Mama and Paige,” Lizzie explained.

“Why, sure. Just find yourself a vase in the bottom cupboard. Then come on and hear all about Teensy's news.”

Lizzie followed Molly into the kitchen, where she took care of the flowers, and then out into the sunroom. Teensy sat at the green wicker table and chair set, a big grin on her face. She bobbed up to embrace Lizzie and pulled out the chair next to her.

“You just sit right down here because I'm just bursting to tell you my good news,” Teensy said, tucking her flowing paisley cotton skirt behind her as she settled back into her seat. The crimson red top with wafting sleeves matched perfectly and she'd added a red headband to hold her unruly hair back from her face.

“I'm all ears,” Lizzie said, taking the cup of coffee Molly offered her and choosing the largest scone from the plate in Molly's other hand.

“Well . . .” Teensy suddenly looked all coy. “I decided that if this here DA was going to be stonewalling us, I'd just have to go over his head. So, I made an appointment and went to see Mayor Harold Hutchins and I gave him an invitation to my launch. Then I told him, if he wanted to come, he had to guarantee my books would be released by the police.”

Lizzie's couldn't hide the look of surprise from her face.

Teensy chuckled, her voice a high-pitched cackle. “Now don't you go looking like that, sugar. I believe that sometimes a gal's just got to go out there and press a few buttons. And you know what?”

“It worked?”

“It certainly did. The DA's assistant called me and we'll have access to my books on Monday. We'll need to see just how many are in stock and then haul them out of there. Lizzie, sugar, I'm wondering if you'll be able to go there with me and do that?”

“Sure, I can do that. Let's just see how many boxes there are and if we can manage on our own. We might have to ask Bob to help.”

Teensy looked quickly at Molly. “We'll see. Well, thank you, sugar. And my other news is that I am going out to dinner at the Golden Goose tonight with the mayor.”

Lizzie grinned. “Wow, you are some slick worker, Teensy. I'd say you charmed the mayor all around.”

Molly nodded. “Teensy always did get whatever she wanted. Even as a little girl. If we wanted to stay out later, we just sent Teensy in to coax the parents. If we wanted to play hooky and not get caught, Teensy made it happen.” Molly reached over and squeezed Teensy's hand. “You certainly haven't lost your touch.”

Teensy smiled. “Why thank you, Mopsy. It might come in quite handy to have the mayor at my side at some of these book events you have planned. Speaking of which, what are you planning?”

Lizzie pushed away the feeling of unease that had sprung up with talk of the launch. She quickly filled them in on her visit to George Havers and the fact that the
Colonist
would be covering the launch and sending out a reporter to do an interview in advance.

“That's wonderful, sugar,” Teensy said. “You've been right busy. I'm so very grateful.”

“And I still plan to set up some book signings.”

Teensy clapped her hands. “Oh, this is so exciting. I never ever saw myself as being a famous author—and I know that having a few signings in Ashton Corners doesn't make me famous, but it does give me a certain cachet, don't you think?”

“And there will be more,” Molly added. “I've left a message for Abe Jorgens at the Ashton Corners Historical Society. I think you might add a bit of spice to their oh-so-boring annual general meeting in September.”

Teensy laughed. “Oh, I promise to do that. It's a nice homecoming for me, don't y'all think?”

Molly nodded and got up to refill their coffee cups. At the same moment Bob appeared at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the west side of the sunroom. “Would you mind going and opening the back door for him, Lizzie? I swear that man knows when there are freshly baked biscuits on the table.”

Teensy winked at Lizzie and gathered her purse from the floor. “I'll let him in, Molly. I need to run along now. I have a hair appointment with Willetta at ten o'clock. I do want to look my best tonight.” She gave Molly a hug and patted Lizzie's shoulder as she walked past.

In moments Bob was seated where Teensy had been. “Coffee and a buttermilk biscuit, what a good way to start off a weekend. And is that plum preserves I spy?”

“Of course it is.”

“You're looking in fine health this morning, Molly.” Both her eyes were bloodshot and the predicted left black eye was becoming noticeable. However, her hair was pulled back and secured with a large pink bow that matched the long-sleeved floral top she wore. White slacks completed the outfit. Compared to Bob's camouflage green T-shirt and faded jeans, she looked positively elegant.

“That's because I am. And now that we're back to planning Teensy's launch, I've got things to keep me busy. It's always good to have something on the go.”

“Is there a message there, Molly?”

“Of course not. Don't be so sensitive. Now, have another scone.”

“So that means y'all are lining up work for me to do?” Bob asked.

“You'll see,” said Molly, the tease back in her voice.

Lizzie finished off her coffee and asked, “Any news on the body they found at your place?”

“Well, he's been identified, although I haven't been told his name. And I understand they're still awaiting forensic results, although I'm sure they won't tell me that, either.” He shook his head. “I can't imagine what he was doing at my place.”

The front doorbell interrupted him. “I'll get it,” Lizzie said and left them. A few seconds later she was back, Officer Amber Craig trailing her.

“She's asking for Bob,” Lizzie said and stepped aside.

“Would you like some coffee?” Molly asked.

“No, thanks, ma'am. I need to talk to Mr. Miller.” Officer Craig took a quick glance around the room and focused on Bob, still at the table. She'd removed her police hat and held it in her left hand. She wore her long blonde hair in a ponytail and her uniform of charcoal pants and light gray shirt looked crisp even in the already sweltering morning heat. “I'd like you to accompany me to the station, please. We have some further questions for you.”

“What's this about?” Bob asked.

“I'm not at liberty to say.”

“Who is it?” Lizzie asked then realized this wasn't her conversation. “Sorry.”

Craig shook her head. “I can't release that information at this point. Now, Mr. Miller . . .”

“Is he under arrest, Officer Craig?” Molly asked. Lizzie could hear the desperation in her voice.

“No, ma'am. We just need to ask him a few questions.” She looked pointedly at Bob until he put his hands on the table and pushed himself upright.

“It's all formality, Molly. Don't you worry now. I know this procedure thing inside and out.” He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for the coffee and eats.” He nodded at Lizzie and left through the back door, Officer Craig following.