Permanently Booked (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“We don’t believe you,” Summer said to Trixie as the fire alarm continued to blare. Dorothy’s partner was still sitting on their slightly deflated suspect.

“You and Ray bumped off Lorella together, didn’t you?” Summer went on. “Well, just so you know, your skeezy boyfriend is in Milano PD custody right now.”

Dorothy raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t heard
that
news yet. But she hadn’t had a chance to tell Summer her new theory about Carrie, either. “Trixie may be right,” she said to her partner.

“Dang straight I’m right.” Trixie looked furious. “Ray and I were gonna strike it rich in Montana. At a closed up mine that’s chock-full of copper.”

“Not the Berkley Pit Mine, I hope.” Dorothy shuddered. She’d learned a few things about the current Superfund site when she was mending that book, and they didn’t sound pretty. Quite toxic, in fact.

“Nope, another one,” Trixie said. “But it’s close by, in a very secret location. That’s why I need that map. Now let me go so I can make me a fortune. I’ll do it for Ray while he’s in the slammer.”

“I’m sorry, Trixie,” Dorothy said. “That isn’t going to happen.”

“No, it isn’t.” Detective Donovan, looking a little less crisp than usual, strode into the library.

My
,
that was fast.
He’d beaten the fire department here.

Summer almost tumbled off Trixie, she looked so surprised. How had her friend gotten her hands on an extra-large Milano PD sweatshirt? “Where’s the team?” she said. “I can’t believe it’s you again.”

“Likewise.” The detective’s voice was clipped, but Dorothy was almost sure she’d seen an amused quirk to his lips.

He turned to Trixie. “Your buddy Ray sang,” he told her as Summer got out of the way so he could place the still-struggling woman in handcuffs. “Guess he wanted to lessen those possible charges of illegal, exotic animal possession and trade, fraud, check bouncing, unarmed robbery, and vehicle theft.” He nodded toward the pistol on the carpet, a few feet away. “You might want to consider the same.”

“I’m not talkin’,” Trixie said. “And I need me a lawyer.”

Detective Donovan turned back to Dorothy and Summer. “I’ll speak with you ladies tomorrow. Get some rest.”

Standing beside her friend as the detective led a babbling Trixie away, Dorothy felt an overwhelming sense of dizziness and fatigue at the mention of rest. “I think I should get home,” she said to her friend. “Quickly.”

“I’ve got the car right outside,” Summer said. “Do you think you can make it to the lobby with me?”

“Of course, dear.” Dorothy’s voice sounded faint even to her own ears. “I have a new theory for the case I want to share with you, about our friend Carrie, but...it may have to wait until morning, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t worry, Dorothy.” Summer took her arm as the two of them slowly left the library together. “I’ve got your back here.”

“I know,” Dorothy said.

* * *

When Summer woke up in Dorothy’s guest room, sunshine was streaming through the condo. She had no idea what time it was, and she didn’t care.

The phone was ringing out in the kitchen. Summer was tempted to let it go, but she didn’t want it to wake Dorothy. Her friend needed her sleep more than she did. She stumbled out to the kitchen, but the message machine had already picked up.

“Hi, Dorothy,” the male voice said. “It’s—”

“Hey, Dash,” Summer said. “You’re on speaker. What’s up?”

Dorothy came up behind her, tying her fuzzy robe. “Ask him whether Georgiana’s writing notebook has been found yet,” she whispered.

Huh? That had to be the least of their problems right now.

“No.” Dash sighed. “But I have other news. You’re going to love this. Your pal Gladys has taken it upon herself to organize a book club boat trip—for this afternoon.”

Ugh, Summer thought. She was definitely not up for that today.

“I’m going to take Mother, in an effort to distract her—she’s still agitated about the notebook, so I can’t be responsible for anything she says—and Juliette-Margot.”

“Sounds, uh, fun,” Summer said.

“My beloved has begged off, pleading nausea that sea sickness will apparently not improve,” Dash went on. “But there will be box lunches and champagne. You and Dorothy are going, right?”

“Yes,” Dorothy said, behind her.

“Do we have to?” Summer asked after Dash had relayed the details and signed off.

“I don’t care to go, either.” Dorothy sighed. “And I never budgeted for champagne and a party boat, no matter how much money Lorella left the book club. But we need to be there to watch Georgiana. And Carrie.”

Summer listened as her friend told her about the Heartflower movie she’d seen last night, and the idea of Carrie possibly plagiarizing Angelina St. James’s work.

“Lorella must have found out, and threatened to expose her,” Dorothy said. “But if she did so, you see, Lorella’s identity as Angelina would also come out.”

Summer hopped on a stool at the breakfast counter. “Well, if Angelina’s books are so famous, how come no one’s noticed yet that Carrie is ripping her off?”

“I’m not sure,” Dorothy said, “but that Heartflower movie was based on one of Angelina’s earliest works, so it’s lesser known. And Carrie writes to a younger generation.”

“True.” Summer leaned her elbows on the counter. “No one’s really noticed Carrie’s books yet, either. Even after she hired her own publicist.”

“Exactly.” Dorothy dodged Mr. Bitey as she rummaged through the cupboards for any remnants of instant coffee. “Your breakfast is coming,” she told him. “Be patient like Guinevere.”

So she and Dorothy definitely had to go on the boat lunch. If it was true Carrie stole Angelina St. Rose’s ideas, then the wannabe probably wouldn’t turn down a chance to pick up any tidbits from other famous authors, now that Lorella was dead.

Like GH Hamel, for instance.

“I just don’t get it, though,” Summer said to Dorothy. “Why would Carrie release spoilers from Georgiana’s brand-new, unpublished book on that teleprompter during a live TV interview, then? I mean, it would spoil things for her own book, too, if she stole the story and published it before GH Hamel.”

“True...” Dorothy tapped her chin.

“Wait, how about this?” Summer said excitedly. “Parker hates Carrie. What if she knows her client’s been stealing other writers’ stuff, and she’s setting her up to fall?”

“A bit far-fetched, I think,” Dorothy said. “Don’t worry, I have a plan to help us prove who stole GH Hamel’s notebook. But we’ll need Georgiana’s help.”

“I thought you were really tired,” Summer said as Dorothy poured them each a glass of expired orange juice.

Dorothy smiled. “Not anymore, dear.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Summer and Dorothy arrived at the Milano Marina Dock just in time to make it onto the book club party boat.

“Am I glad to see you!” Dash greeted Summer. He looked sharp but overly heated in a striped Oxford shirt and red Bermuda shorts. “La Madre is in rare form,” he added, with a nod over his shoulder at Georgiana. She stood at the bow of the boat, with her arms stretched out to the wimpy breeze like Rose in
Titanic.

Professor Bell was right behind her. Summer actually felt sorry for Georgiana right now. No escape.

Wait. The professor wasn’t going to push her, was he? Nope, worse. He was taking his manila envelopes out of his monogrammed boat bag.

It was too painful to watch. Summer turned away.

Beside her father, Juliette-Margot looked as if she’d jumped out of
Vogue Kids
in an adorable straw hat and sailor dress, with boat-shoe Mary Janes. “
Bonjour
, Summer, and Madame Dorothy. Have you seen the pretty fish?” She pointed to the glass bottom floor between their feet.

“My, aren’t they beautiful?” Dorothy said.

“Papa, can Juliette-Margot have fish? Pretty ones, in beaucoup colors? We still have the aquarium
Grandmère
ordered for Skipperdee.”

“Tropical fish are very hard to take care of, honey,” Dash said, looking to Summer for help.

“You’re on your own now, dude,” she told him, over Juliette-Margot’s head. “I’m done with animals.”

“Doooorothy!” Gladys, dressed in full nautical gear, flapped over, playing the gracious hostess. If she were Dorothy, Summer thought, she’d be on her last nerve.

Actually, Dorothy seemed just fine with Gladys taking over on event duties. Her friend seemed a little book-clubbed out lately. Too bad Ernie wasn’t here today for her to hang out with. But she and Dorothy did have to work on the case, Summer reminded herself.

“Whattaya say you go over with me, Dot, and help convince GH Hamel to read the professor’s manuscript?” Gladys asked. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately,” she added, lowering her voice for once. “You know, for the investigation. He said he really needed reader reviews for test marketing, and he values my opinion very highly, of course. I’ve already read four hundred pages.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Rumway,” Summer said, taking her sleuthing partner by the elbow. “Dorothy and I need to talk to Parker over there.”

As the two of them headed toward the cabin, where Parker was helping one of the boat crew bring out boxes with the food and plastic wineglasses, Summer stopped with her friend to eavesdrop on Georgiana and the professor.

It wasn’t too difficult.

“I don’t know how in blazes Lorella put up with you,” Georgiana was saying, loudly as usual. She and Gladys sure had that in common. “But
I’m
not going to. You and your pathetic, self-described epic romance novel can take a dive into the ocean, for as much as I care. And if you keep trying to ingratiate yourself with me, I’ll throw you overboard myself.”

“Well,” Dorothy muttered. “I think GH Hamel has made herself quite clear.”

“Hello, everyone!” Parker called into the crowd. “And welcome to the S.S.
Hamel-Dunbar
. Before we get this party started, I’d like to make an announcement.”

“Yes,” Georgiana boomed in. “If anyone here has my writing notebook, I’m serving you notice that you will be dealt with to the fullest extent of the law. And my personal capabilities, which might be a lot worse.”

Before she could get another word out, Dash ran up to her with a glass and a newly popped bottle of champagne. “Look, just for you, Mother. Someone put your name over the label. Wasn’t that thoughtful?”

“Okay, so, here’s the other announcement.” Parker shot a nervous, sideways glance at Georgiana. “I have all the details on tomorrow night’s festivities at

Tangerine du Sol. It will be the last local event for GH Hamel, who will soon depart for New York, but good news: Because of growing enthusiasm for her new book, Carrie has agreed to extend her stay here in Milano for a few more weeks—so you won’t have to say goodbye to her just yet!”

Summer stifled a groan. Beside her, she was pretty sure Dorothy did, too.

“Anyway,” Parker went on, still looking urban trendy in her striped V-neck tee and short black skirt, “Maxwell & Perkins has agreed to sponsor tomorrow night’s event, and it’s going to be even bigger than we planned. In fact...” She paused. “GH Hamel’s editor will be flying down from New York for this very exciting evening.”

Casually, Summer turned, to check on Charles’s reaction. Yep. The professor was practically foaming at the mouth.

“And if that isn’t all, Maxwell & Perkins has also arranged a special sneak peek at the trailer for the major upcoming movie based on Georgiana’s book
Good Night
,
Sweetheart.
”

Ohhh. Summer suddenly remembered her dad’s assistant had sent that same trailer to her in a box of stuff she hadn’t really gone through yet. She was supposed to have watched it last week. Oops.

Well, she hadn’t been home long enough to get the home theater installed. Besides, now she didn’t even have a phone for the setup guys from Top This to reach her.

Dorothy nudged her in the ribs, and Summer snapped back to attention.

Georgiana was headed toward the tub of champagne bottles that had just been set out at the front of the boat. Now was her and Dorothy’s chance to talk to her about their plan.

* * *

“It’s still possible Georgiana just lost her own notebook, right?” Summer said as she and Dorothy made their way closer to the makeshift champagne bar at the S.S.
Dunbar
-Hamel’s bow. “I lose stuff all the time.”

“Well, yes,” Dorothy admitted. They couldn’t rule out the idea that the author had killed Lorella herself, either. Maybe some kind of jealous rage—or some issue between the two of them that no one else knew about.

But so far, Georgiana didn’t appear to have an obvious motive for disposing of Angelina St. James. One author wrote mystery, the other romance. And Lorella had hardly been a limelight stealer. She’d valued her privacy above all else, it seemed.

“Let me do the talking, dear,” Dorothy said as they approached Georgiana.

She was a bit nervous about broaching their sting idea to GH Hamel. But the author heard Dorothy out as she sipped her bubbly.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you have a new notebook in your tote, Georgiana. What would you think about tearing out any important material and replacing it with a few, nonsensical notes. Then you could let everyone know you’ve been jotting down some fresh, new ideas and set the tote—with the notebook inside—down in some semiobvious place?”

Georgiana cocked her head. “I see where you’re going with this. It might work.”

“Of course it will,” Summer said.

Dorothy placed a light hand on her friend’s arm. “Summer and I will watch the bag very carefully, and hopefully the thief”—perhaps Lorella’s killer, she added silently—”will be revealed.”

“Let’s do it.” Georgiana gave a sharp nod. “My money is on that insufferable Charles Bell.”

“You could bring the notebook to the big party tomorrow night,” Dorothy suggested.

“No,” Georgiana said. “I don’t want to wait. I need those notes. They were brilliant. I had a whole new plot outlined. I’ll just make a few scribbles now as I enjoy this next glass of champagne.”

At this point, Dorothy was almost ready for one herself. But it was much too early in the day, of course. And she needed to keep her wits about her.

Dorothy tried to relax a bit as she and Summer joined Dash and Juliette-Margot on the cushioned benches set up near the middle of the boat. Their captain pointed out some lovely ocean landmarks of interest, as well as a charming pod of dolphins, and Georgiana put their plan into operation.

Everyone aboard seemed intrigued when the author let their fellow passengers know she had some maaahr-velous ideas for her next novel—even better than the ones revealed in that bloody TV interview.

Then Georgiana left her canvas tote with the propped-up notebook peeking out from under the skirted cooler beneath the drinks tub, as if she’d forgotten it in a champagne haze. She played that part quite convincingly, Dorothy told herself.

She and Summer eagerly watched and waited as the captain told them about other various points of interest, including the new Milano Point Lighthouse. The updated but still classic-looking structure had replaced the crumbling, decommissioned metal one. The remnants of the former lighthouse became covered by the sea at high tide.

Fascinating.

But to Dorothy and Summer’s extreme disappointment as the flaming orange sun began to drop below the horizon, streaking the sky in shades of pink, blue, and lavender, no one took the notebook bait.