Book Fair and Foul (Ashton Corners Book Club) (4 page)

The next day brought its own set of unpleasant surprises.

THE ETRUSCAN CHIMERA
—LYN HAMILTON

L
izzie had just finished her cup of peppermint tea after supper and was settling back to her book,
A Fashionable Death
, when the phone rang. She had four chapters left to go in Lorelie Oliver’s latest book before meeting her at the author dinner the next evening.

She’d already finished the books of the other three involved in the mystery fair. She’d left Lorelie’s for last, knowing it was more romancey than the others, thinking it would be a faster read. It had proven not to be and, in fact, was so complex in some scenes that Lizzie had to reread entire paragraphs. The phone was not a welcome interruption.

“Lizzie, it’s Patsy Kindall over here at the Quilt Patch. I’ve been trying to reach Molly but I guess she’s not at home. I’ve got a bit of a situation here and I was hoping, as part of the fair committee, you could come over and tend to it.”

“Sure, Patsy. What’s the problem?”

“Well, Miss High-and-Mighty Lorelie Oliver has arrived, early, I might add, and in talking with the Farrows, realized her room is much smaller than theirs and demands another, large, comparable room. I just don’t have it.” Lizzie could picture Patsy throwing up her hands in despair. “I’ve tried to explain I have only the one suite, but she says I’m insulting her by offering her a small one. I don’t need this, believe me.”

“No, and you don’t deserve it. I’ll be right over, Patsy. Give her a glass of sherry or something and sit her down to wait for me.”

Lizzie sighed as she set the book aside, slipped her Keds runners back on and grabbed her denim jacket and handbag. She yelled out a good-bye to her cats, Brie and Edam, the only other living things in her tiny house, and left.

The B and B was only three blocks away and Lizzie didn’t even have time to come up with a plan on the drive over. She noted the Cape Cod house was ablaze in lights. She could hear a woman’s loud voice, dripping in Southern sarcasm, as she opened the front door.

“Apparently popularity and book sales are not factors taken into consideration by these fair people when allocating rooms.”

Lizzie cringed and took a minute to take a calming breath before entering the sitting room. Patsy spotted her instantly. “Ah, Lizzie Turner. So glad to see you. This is one of the women organizing the fair. And this”—she pointed out a tall, well-endowed woman to Lizzie—“is Lorelie Oliver.”

Lorelie ignored Lizzie’s outstretched hand and launched into a tirade. “I do not appreciate being snubbed like this, Ms. Turner. I have three Heart and Daggers and a Silver Teaspoon. My books are always on the bestseller lists and, really, I’m doing ya’ll a big favor by even being here.” She stopped for a breath and straightened her red and white tunic top that had ridden up on one hip. Her flowing red pants looked festive. She wore her platinum blonde hair in a pageboy, swept over to one side.

“I do know that this little event of yours is sold out,” she continued, “and I dare say that’s due in large part to my books.”

Lizzie thought to herself, it’s because it’s a unique event, first time it’s been tried in this town. That’s why.

Caroline struggled to push her way out of the soft-cushioned love seat. She stood a good three inches shorter than Lorelie and lacked the girth.
Gaunt, as Mama used to say
. “As usual, you are way too full of yourself, Lorelie.”

Lizzie couldn’t think of a thing to say. She spotted A.J. seated in a leather La-Z-Boy chair over in a far corner, a big grin on his face. He’s thoroughly enjoying this spectacle, Lizzie realized. Carter Farrow sat in the shadows beside the front window, the light shining around him rather than on him. She couldn’t figure out what his expression meant. Definitely not mirth. Maybe even a little bit scared?

“Now ladies,” Lizzie said, realizing she had to take charge. “You can’t imagine just how pleased we are to have you both with us, and room allocation has nothing whatsoever to do with anything other than . . .” she glanced helplessly at Patsy.

“The suite is for the Farrows because there are two of them,” she offered, and added under her breath, “as I’d already mentioned.”

“Yes, that’s right. Two people get the larger room and the others are allocated according to whomever arrives first.” She hoped it didn’t sound too much like a question. Since Molly had handled booking the rooms, Lizzie wasn’t too sure how things had been arranged. Patsy nodded as Lizzie’s eyes sought her out.

Lizzie took a deep breath. “We did choose the Quilt Patch because it’s our finest bed and breakfast in town and we know Patsy, as host, will treat you just royally. And you must take the time to have a look at all her wonderful quilts on display. She’s also a multi–award winner, you know.” It’s also close to the Eagles Center, Lizzie thought, but didn’t want to confuse them with too many details. “Now, we do so much appreciate you joining us here and we have planned a wonderful fair with lots of adoring fans. I’m certain you’ll feel the love of those fans.”

Was she laying it on too thick?

All eyes were on Lorelie. After a few short moments of silence, which felt like an hour to Lizzie, she smiled and said, “That will be just fine then.”

What had that been about? Lizzie glanced at A.J., who gave her a big wink. She noticed Patsy serving the tray of sherry, her hands shaking ever so slightly, and decided she could definitely do with one. Lizzie took a sip and turned back to face the room, at which point Lorelie sat down on the love seat and pulled Caroline down beside her. They seemed in deep discussion.

Patsy nudged Lizzie out into the hallway. “See what I mean? They’re like two cats hissing and fighting one minute, and the next, they’re cozying up and making merry. I’m not sure I can handle this weekend.”

“They’ll be fine, I’m sure. What else could go wrong?” Lizzie asked, hopefully.

“Well thank you so much for coming over and handling it, Lizzie.”

“Have you heard from the fourth author? She’s still arriving tomorrow midafternoon?”

“Yes, and I hope she’s not going to give me grief over the size of her room. It’s a single bed, which is what she wanted, but who knows with this gang? Oh, and I got a call asking for another room. Fortunately, I’ve just had the back bedroom redecorated, so that’s available, although I hadn’t planned on renting it out just yet.”

“I thought you were keeping the B and B strictly for the authors this weekend.”

“Oh, she’s part of this, she says, just not an author. Something to do with publicity. From the publisher. She said the authors invited her and she’ll be here a couple of nights.”

Lizzie shrugged. “That’s interesting. It can’t hurt to get extra publicity, in case we decide to do it again next year. When is she arriving?”

“Tomorrow, late afternoon. I left Molly a message about it, knowing she’s planning that supper tomorrow night for the authors. I’d expect this young lady would be attending it also. She sounds like a very vivacious young woman.”

“Maybe she’s used to handling the divas. Let’s hope so anyway.”

“Well, I can tell you this Ashley Dixon sounded real efficient on the phone.”

Lizzie’s heart skipped a beat. She was sure she felt it do so, physically. She gave herself a mental shake. There must be tons of Ashley Dixons on the planet. Surely it wasn’t the same one.

It couldn’t be.

Those words would eventually turn up on a plate served with sides of fear and regret, and I’d be forced to swallow them whole.

BATTERED TO DEATH
—GAYLE TRENT

L
izzie stepped out her front door and took a deep breath. Another glorious day about to begin. It felt more like spring than fall if there was a discernable difference beyond the hours the sun rose and set, and the colors of the flowers.

She set off at a slow jog along Sidcup Street until she came to the corner. She’d planned a run toward the far side of town for a change but the promise of a spectacular sunrise along the Tallapoosa River drew her in that direction. By the time she reached the turnoff into Glendale Park, the sky had gone through a pattern of pinks into a clear blue. She slowed her pace slightly along the path in the woods, always on the lookout for stray sticks that eager dogs had dropped without concern for the runners.

She came upon a large one and rather than jump it, she stopped and threw it aside. Someone else might not be so observant and could easily trip over it.

Coming out of the park, she exchanged waves with another early morning jogger, an older man who Lizzie saw on occasion, and thought she’d also spotted him behind the counter in the Walgreens pharmacy. She crossed the street before the two approaching golden retrievers and their walkers reached her. She knew these two were frisky young things and quite given to jumping up on passing bodies, even trying to follow a runner.

For the final half mile of the run, she organized her day in her mind. Two meetings with parents at the Ashton Corners Elementary School followed by lunch that was really a school staff mini-meeting. The afternoon she’d set aside for starting to plan the next term’s goals for liaising with the primary-grade teachers. And then, to Molly’s and what promised to be an entertaining evening.

She was looking forward to meeting Gigi Briggs and seeing how she fit in the current mix of authors. Plus, who knew what a meeting between Teensy Coldicutt, Caroline Cummings and Lorelie Oliver would bring? Lizzie’s money was on Teensy.

But what about Ashley Dixon? She’d convinced herself before drifting off to sleep that it wasn’t the same woman. How could it be? That would be too much of a cruel coincidence. This Ashley Dixon was part of the publishing industry. The one she’d known at college had planned a career in the art world, and the fact that she knew nothing about art history wouldn’t stand in her way. That’s where the money was, she believed, so that’s where Ashley Dixon was headed. No way it was the same person. She turned up the pathway to her house.

Her cats, Brie and Edam, met her at the kitchen door. As Lizzie did a few cooldown stretches, Brie wound through her legs while Edam had jumped up onto her back, making a quick leap to the countertop as Lizzie righted herself. She grabbed the cat comb when she’d finished and gave them each a thorough session. That was obviously what they’d been waiting for because they both wandered off while she ate her breakfast of granola with fresh blueberries.

They were sitting on her bed, in various stages of their own attempts at grooming, when she entered the room to strip for her shower. Refreshed and redressed in a dark green sweater set with camel pants, Lizzie grabbed her tote bag with her new iPad and a couple of reference books in it, and headed out the door to her day at work.

Her first stop once in the school was at the vice principal’s office. This September, the school had been assigned a new principal and vice principal, an unusual move to have both brought in at the same time. Even after a month back in school, the staff was still trying to get a feel for the new team. The new principal, Charles Benton, looked to be close to retirement and, from what he’d told them the first day, was a stickler for protocol and appearances. Kim Lafferty, the new vice principal, seemed more the quiet, laid-back type in her early forties. Lizzie had yet to see her get mad but had the feeling everyone would be aware when it happened.

Sure enough, a new schedule had been posted on Lafferty’s door, showing when Lizzie would be allowed to use the office for interviews. Those were the times the vice principal would be teaching in a classroom. Lizzie would have to try to schedule meetings with parents during those hours or meet with them in a small office in the library. That space was adequate in size but lacked walls up to the ceiling. She was concerned about privacy, but more often than not, the library was unused, so chances were it would seldom be a problem.

Lizzie’s first meeting was with parents of a second-grade student, Kyle Jones, who had a lot of trouble focusing on reading when so much was happening around him in the classroom. She’d spent the last couple of days putting together a package of reading materials and aids for his parents to use with him, much to their delight. They left with assurances from Lizzie that young Kyle could overcome this and move forward to a productive school year.

The rest of the day went by quickly. By the time the final school bell rang, Lizzie felt ready for the weekend and whatever mystery that might hold. She rushed home and freshened up, and after spending too much time deciding what to wear, changed into a paisley wrap dress in blues and greens that she’d bought at Chico’s the last time she’d been to Montgomery. She thought about the plans for tomorrow’s fair, wondering if there’d been anything missed, but she felt that between all the book club members working on it, everything should be on track. She felt just a moment’s guilt at skipping her usual Friday night choir practice. But there were still many weeks and rehearsals before the Christmas concert, so she’d have time to get up to speed.

She fed the cats then headed for Molly’s, hoping to be the first one there and to help Molly greet the authors as they arrived. Sally-Jo came rushing in just a few minutes behind her.

“I looked for you at school today but you were a phantom. Plenty knew you were there but few had seen you.”

“Locked away with parents and then reports, I’m afraid,” Lizzie shrugged. “How was your day?”

“Oh, the usual third-grade kind of day. Let me rephrase, third grade on a Friday. It’s like trying to keep the lid on a bubbling pot some days. Now, I brought some tchotchkes to put on the registration desk.” She pulled four three-inch plastic skulls out of her cloth shopping bag. “What do you think of them? Don’t they add a mysterious touch? Do you think Molly will like them?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Molly asked, joining the two in the foyer.

“Well, they’re a bit kitschy. They’re for the tables tomorrow. I happened to see them when I stopped in at the Piggly Wiggly for snacks. I think they’ll be perfect.”

“Skulls. How cute. They should add a touch of mysterious fun, I agree,” Molly said. “Now, I’m glad you are both here. I wanted to talk to you about something before everyone arrives.”

“What is it, Molly?” Lizzie asked. “Not a problem, I hope.”

“Not really and I’m probably just being overly cautious, maybe even silly. Patsy called me this morning and told me how you had diverted a near-disaster last night, Lizzie. Do you want to tell us about it?”

“There’s not much, really. It seems that when Lorelie Oliver arrived earlier than expected, like by half a day, she threw a snit about her room being smaller than that of Caroline Cummings. She just dug her heels in, even though Patsy went to great lengths to be courteous and explained that the Farrows got the only suite in the bed and breakfast. There are two of them, after all.”

“Did she accept that?” Molly asked.

“After a few minutes thinking, and keeping us on tenterhooks, I might add, she did. It was very strange behavior.”

“I’ve heard worse about that woman,” Teensy Coldicutt said as she breezed into the kitchen. “I beg your pardon, Molly, but I heard y’all talking so I just walked right in.” She set the large azalea plant she’d been holding on the counter and then gave them each a peck on the cheek.

Teensy, Molly’s childhood friend, had moved back to Ashton Corners after a decades-long absence as a newly published author and had quickly become embroiled in a plot to frame Bob Miller for murder. Not that she realized she was part of the plot. She floated around town in billowing dresses and tops, hiding her love of chocolates and bourbon, but announcing her arrival with the tap-tap of her signature stilettos. She’d quickly become an honorary member of the book club, though she didn’t join them for their monthly meetings. Each of them counted Teensy as a valued friend, much to Molly’s delight.

“That’s quite the plant, Teensy,” Lizzie said, admiring the red blossoms.

“Isn’t it, sugar? I grew that plant from a baby bulb. Nursed it myself right in my back sunroom. I thought it would make an interesting centerpiece for tonight. Maybe not on the table where we’ll be eating but out on the patio perhaps. Are we having drinkies out there?”

Molly nodded. “Why yes, it’s such a glorious evening. And that will be perfect on the patio table. Thank you, Teensy. I’m so glad you were able to come over early. The caterers are arriving real soon so let’s just gather all the beverages and move them out to the tables. What else do you know about Lorelie Oliver, Teensy?”

Teensy flicked her wrist and the sleeve of her purple blouse with yellow swirls floated around her face. She leaned forward, her face showing she was eager to pass on her information. “Well, I have heard that she and Caroline Cummings are most always vying with each other for the same awards and that often leads to some very catty remarks coming from both directions. Meow.” She swatted playfully at the air. “And since Lorelie shed her latest husband, Caroline’s been keeping close tabs on her own.”

“Where do you pick up such things?” Molly asked, stopping what she was doing, which was arranging pecan balls on a plate.

“Oh, here, there and the beauty parlor. Also, I follow this blog,
Cozy Comings and Goings
, real close, and the woman who writes it just can’t wait to dish the dirt. My kind of gal. I’ll send you the link, Molly, and you can enjoy it, too.”

Molly shook her head. “Thanks, but I am not into blogs and all those other social-media things on the Internet. I’ll just wait for you to fill me in,” she added with a chuckle.

“So, do you think everything is really smoothed over at the B and B, Lizzie?”

Lizzie shrugged. “I think so. For now, anyway,” she added with a grin.

“Hmm. Patsy had left me a message that there’s someone from the publishing company coming, too. That’s sort of last-minute. I hope we’re not expected to do anything for this person, although I did extend an invitation for her to join us at dinner tonight.”

Lizzie quickly shook away the moment of unease she felt.

“Now then,” Molly continued, “on to what is happening tonight. I am so hoping you’ll enjoy the authors, Teensy, because tomorrow morning is in your hands.”

Teensy flapped her hand. “Tish, tosh . . . don’t you worry, Molly. I’ll have a grand old time, even if I have to behave. No gossip or innuendos, merely my thoughts on their books, which I’ve finished—their latest ones at least. They’ll provide nice bits for my introductions.”

Bob arrived as Lizzie picked up the tray of glasses and he quickly moved over to the door to hold it open for her. She took them out to the patio, followed by Sally-Jo with a couple of bottles of wine. “I think this could end up being a very entertaining weekend,” Lizzie said with a laugh.

“All I’m hoping for is a big success for Molly,” he said.

“Guess the weekend is about to begin,” Lizzie said on hearing the doorbell ring. She arranged the glasses on the self-serve table as Molly and Teensy went back inside. She could hear the commotion indoors and decided to wait outside rather than enter into the fray. Within a few minutes, Teensy led Carter and Caroline out to the back patio.

Before Lizzie had a chance to welcome them, the back door opened again and A.J. Pruitt did a small bow from the waist to allow Lorelie Oliver to precede him outside.

Lorelie teetered down the two steps on her six-inch stilettos, air-kissed Caroline on both cheeks and did the same with Carter. Lizzie, standing a bit behind, noticed that Carter’s hand slid down Lorelie’s backside for a fraction of a second. She quickly looked away and straight at A.J., who gave her a wink and headed over to the table holding the drinks.

Teensy took the introductions in hand and waltzed up to A.J., intercepting him a couple of steps from the table. “May I introduce myself?” she asked with a coquettish smile. “I am Theodora Coldicutt, author, and more commonly known as Teensy.”

A.J.’s eyes sparkled. He grabbed the hand that Teensy held out to him, bowed slightly and kissed the back of her hand. “And I am A.J. Pruitt, ordinarily known as Ambrose.”

Teensy giggled and managed a slight curtsy. “So pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”

Lorelie had been watching from the bottom step and decided it was her turn. She said in a loud voice, “And I am Lorelie Oliver. Nice to meet you, Teensy.” She’d chosen to do a dripping Southern accent.

Teensy turned to her and with a big smile on her face, and matching her accent, said, “Charmed, I’m sure.”