The Fallen Angels Book Club (23 page)

It was as if he'd hit me in the stomach. “What?” I whispered. “How did you find out about my application?”

“Your name was cross-referenced with recent court filings. We get a daily list of public actions on anyone who's of interest in our investigations.”

I couldn't speak.

Detective Faber said, “I'm trying to believe you, Ms. Morgan. I
want
to believe you. You're a very bright woman. I think you're still hiding something and I have to at least consider you had a motive for Bill Lynley's killing. What better cover than the shadow of the club's murders?”

“I didn't even know where he lived.” There was desperation in my voice. “You've got to believe me, I'm not lying.”

“So you say. I want you to go home and think about those books of yours, particularly the ones from the club. Maybe there's a book plot that ties back to your ex-husband's murder.” Detective Faber spoke slowly. “Who would your ex-husband trust? You have as much an interest as we do in getting these murders solved. You've got a lot at stake. Think back. Help us.”

Detective Faber motioned to Detective Lincoln, who stood and opened the door.

“Ms. Morgan, you look beat. I'll have you taken home.”

In my kitchen, I laid out all the books the club had read over the past six months. If I found any clues, I might have to go back further, but taking things in six-month chunks seemed a good start. The two club murders were modeled after books read in that timeframe.

September's book had been historical fiction. In October it was a spy thriller and in November we read a self-help book that turned everyone off, especially the guys, which is why we went back to drama. December was a memoir set in England. January was
World at Midnight.
I lifted up the stack of books. It was missing. The February selection had been
Storm Crossing—
the source for Abby's murder—and March's had been
The Long Pause.

I thought back to our May selection. When the police came to my home after Rory died, I didn't have the book to show them, but it wasn't at the office, either. I got up and did a quick search of the house. When I didn't find it, I got my keys and went out to my car. The book was face down on the floor of my backseat. With relief, I brought it into the house. I didn't recall putting it there, but my memory had let me down a couple of times in the past days. I had spent fifteen minutes looking for my car keys the day before because I couldn't remember putting them in a place where I wouldn't forget to find them.

I put Post-its on the pages of each book with the actual murder descriptions. There were no similarities. Both authors had their own style of mayhem. I checked for common victim types but found none. The victims were as varied as the real life copycats. The motives in the book murders were also different and had nothing in common with either Rory or Abby—at least as far as I knew.

I shoved everything to the side and poured myself another glass of wine. First, Rory. Then Abby. Now Bill. I pushed back a mounting fear and took a deep swallow. My pardon seemed further away than ever.

I
went to the airport to meet Miller on my way back from getting the signature from Imelda's last nephew. The other Riddick heirs overnighted their signed documents to the office so I could kill two birds with one stone. I made a mental note to never use that saying again.

Worried about being late, I tried not to show my annoyance when Avery stopped by to ask about Bill before I left the office.

“I know you were divorced, but if you need to take some time off it's not a problem.”

I shook my head. “We were over in every sense of the word years ago.”

“I just want you to know, I'd understand.”

“You're very kind. I always felt I could count on you. Fortunately, Triple D was on the temp agency's reference list. This job saved me.” I shrugged. “Unfortunately, Bill had some unsavory colleagues. I guess one got tired of him.”

“So the police don't have a clue? They don't think you did it, do they?”

My flinch was automatic. “No. I don't know … maybe. I'm just taking things one day at a time.”

He nodded and patted me on the shoulder. I faked a reassuring smile.

Construction of a new airline waiting area in terminal two was underway at the Oakland airport. I parked in short-term parking and maneuvered my way through the barriers to the elevators. All my eggs were in the Miller basket. My intuition told me that, although the others had good motives, Miller also had means and opportunity. While my nerves were on edge, at the same time I felt calm and resigned.

“Hollis, over here.” Miller waved from a table farthest away from the counter but next to a large window overlooking a landing strip. He pushed a mug of hot water toward me.

“Thanks for remembering.” I reached for the selection of teas.

“No problem. Look, let's get to it. You said you thought you knew who killed Rory and Abby. Who?”

“I need to find out something first. Where do you work?”

“Why?”

I fingered the tea packet, avoiding his eyes. “How do you get our books for free? At first, we thought you worked for a newspaper and could get them through the book review section, but you don't.”

“We? Who's
we
?”

I mentally kicked myself.
Stupid mistake
.

“There's no we. There's just me. So?”

Too late. I had raised his suspicions. He looked at me as if I wore a wire. I had to regain his trust.

“Look, Miller, I have a lot on the line. I need to have these murders solved as soon as possible. I can't afford to be a suspect. Please, help me.” I hoped my Little Miss Vulnerable voice would get to him.

“All right. I guess there's no harm in telling you. They weren't for free. I bought them at a discount.”

“What! Are you joking? Seven books every month for the last three years. Why?”

“The first month, I did get them for free. It was a fire sale at the independent bookstore where I shop. We didn't vote that first month.”

I nodded, remembering.

“I liked being with the club. It really helped me get over some adjustment humps. I didn't want having to come up with books to be a deal breaker for members. I wanted to make being a part of the book club easy. It was my contribution. You understand?”

Not really
.

“I guess. You didn't answer my question. Where do you work?”

If there was a dark cloud in the sky, it came to rest over our table. Miller rose up in his chair, leaned over and spoke through clenched teeth. “That's none of your damn business.”

A man with roll-on luggage sat at the next table but paid us no attention. Miller slouched in his seat.

“Don't mess with me, Hollis. I have a life and a lifestyle I'm not about to put at risk to satisfy your nosiness. If you think you have something on me, go to the police. If you come after me, if you mess up what I have, you better take me out, because I'll be coming after you.”

I believed him.

“Miller, I—”

“I didn't kill Rory or Abby, so back off.”

He was clearly trying to intimidate me and, to a large extent, he was succeeding. “You use an alias. Aren't you worried about your real name and … background coming out?”

He grabbed my wrist. “How did you find out about my real name?”

His grip was firm, but I wrenched my hand back. “You mean besides from the police? Look, Miller, I don't want to reveal any of your secrets. You say you didn't kill Rory or Abby. All right, that's all I wanted to know.” I stood. Where was the exit?

“Sit down for a minute.” His voice returned to normal.

There were still people nearby. I sat.

“My wife … my wife has her own small business. She won't allow for any scandals. My brother … had a drug habit. I tried to help him out. It almost ended our marriage when she found out I'd been in prison, but we got through it. She's been able to keep our names out of the paper as suspects, but if your prying about me gets out, I'll—”

“You don't have to threaten me. I get it.”

This time I stood and walked away without looking back.

Driving back to the office, I mentally went over the scene. I don't know what I expected to find out, but if I were to have any credibility with the police, I'd have to figure out what I'd learned. Bill's letter pointed to someone who would kill to save themselves and Miller was the Fallen Angels' book link. He got us the books, and he could point us to the plots he needed. He wasn't stupid, though. Why would he copy the murders from books he provided? Why would he risk bringing attention to himself? It was clear he could ditch his mild manner when he wanted. If he needed to frame me, why make it so complicated? Rory must have been blackmailing him, too. I punched numbers into my cellphone.

Time wasn't on my side. I had to see Detective Faber before Miller got away. If I were the killer, I'd be planning to clear out.

“Do you work here now?” the guard at the metal detector asked.

I gave him a tight smile. “No, but I can understand how you might think that.” I wrote down my visitor information and got the requisite badge.

The detectives stood up when I was escorted to the interview room.

Detective Faber extended his hand. “It was smart of you to get in touch, Ms. Morgan. You think you have something on Marshall Sloane. Miller Thornton to you?”

This was not the time to tell him I already knew Miller's alias. I sat down in the chair he pulled out. My seat was still the suspect chair across from the two of them.

A recount of my book research from the night before didn't take long.

“So, only Miller knew the plots of the books to be voted on by the club.”

Detective Lincoln shifted in his seat. His small frame up against the oversized table made him look even more like a kid. “How did he manipulate the book selection to reflect the plot he wanted?”

“He knew us well enough to predict what we would want. I can also remember him pushing us toward one book because he could get more copies. Besides, we didn't know he was really buying the books. We thought he was doing us a favor by getting them for free. Miller would bring us the books the next month after we voted. None of us went out and bought the book if we knew we were getting it for free.”

Detective Faber said, “So, you do think it's Thornton?”

I bit back a response that I sure wouldn't be here if I thought it was me. “Yes. It has to be Miller.”

“You don't sound absolutely sure.”

I hesitated. “Miller's an avid reader. He actually enjoys discussing the characters and plot of a book. He comes across as hugely kind and generous. Today I saw a different man. He must protect his family and Rory could have blackmailed him. You probably know a lot more about Thornton's, or Sloane's, background.”

“Anything else?”

I shook my head. “No. I went through all the books for the past six months. He was the only link I could find. Detectives, I think Miller did it. Besides, of all the remaining members, he's the most likely. Everything points to him. I admit I'm a little surprised. I can't see him killing Abby. Maybe Rory, but if he were desperate enough, who knows?”

“Well, you know what I can't see?” Detective Lincoln said. “I can't see a bunch of ex-felons forming a book club in the first place.”

He was getting on my last nerve.

“The book club idea took a little getting used to. Jeffrey Wallace is not only a great parole officer, he's a good person. He saw the best in all of us. I don't think we wanted to disappoint him.” I spoke the truth. “Clearly, Miller and Rory weren't as motivated.”

“Interesting. I thought your book club was based on confidentiality. Members wouldn't have their pasts or their current lives questioned. How did you find out all this stuff out about Miller Thornton?” Detective Faber asked.

“Listen,” I pretended not to hear his question. “You have to hurry. I spooked him; he's going to run. He was getting on a plane. Miller could have killed Rory because Rory knew he hadn't given up his old ways. Also, Miller brought in the books. He knew how to set us all up.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

“I found out Miller's alias, the one in Marin County, and called the phone number. I confirmed Miller lived there.” I tried to keep my irritation in check. It was important Detective Faber believed me.

“You happened to find out his alias?” His voice held more than a little disbelief.

“That's why I called you. He may think he's been found out.” I paused. “Look, I have to get these murders solved, or at least have my name taken off the suspect list. My expungement petition is in jeopardy. You said so yourself.”

“Do you know of any connection between Miller and your ex?”