Cover Story (4 page)

Uh-oh. Not again.

BEHIND THE SEAMS
—BETTY HECHTMAN

L
izzie found Mark slumped on her love seat, his feet on her brown leather hassock. She knew it had been a long day for him, too. Last night he had a city council meeting to attend and it had gone on well past the usual finishing time. She was debating whether to wake him or let him sleep, when his eyes popped open.

He grinned and reached out to her. “Hey, come here, you.”

She sank onto the love seat beside him and curled up in the crook of his arm. She felt like one of her cats. Totally content. Until she thought about Molly.

“Did you go back to the hospital?” he asked, as if sensing the path her thoughts had taken.

“I stopped by after having supper with Sally-Jo and Jacob. Bob was there. I think he's been there the entire time.”

She felt Mark nod. “It's a big shock for everyone. Hard to imagine anyone hurting Molly Mathews.”

“Did you find out anything new, Mark?” Lizzie sat up and looked at him. She could hear how shaky her own voice sounded.

“Miz Coldicutt's books were delivered all right. Officer Craig spoke to the publisher and he confirmed the details. He has no idea why anyone would want to steal them, though.”

“Jacob wondered if the wrong books were delivered and they were then picked up again.”

“Craig didn't ask him specifically but he would have told us if that were the case, I'd think. He's as puzzled as anyone, and Craig said he really got upset when told about the attack. I'll talk to him myself tomorrow morning.”

Lizzie sat upright to face Mark. “There's got to be a reason.”

“Oh, there is. There always is a reason for violence and that's why I don't want you going poking around in all this. Okay?”

Lizzie shook her head. “I can't promise that, Mark. Molly is family. Someone tried to hurt her. That's more important than the books. But the books are the reason. Maybe there's a way the book club can help.”

“You've been lucky in the past, Lizzie. The worst that's happened was you being shot in the arm.”

“Grazed.”

“Whatever. We don't know what we're dealing with here and I don't want you becoming a target again. So no nosing around.”

Lizzie leaned forward and kissed him. “Understood. But . . .”

“No ‘but's.” He shook his head. “I've got to get back to the office. I've still got some paperwork from the meeting last night that has to be finished. Will you be all right?”

She nodded and smiled. She didn't want him worried about her on top of all his workload.

Mark stood up and pulled her with him. He gave her a long, deep kiss. Her toes tingled and she had to fight off the urge to push him back onto the love seat. He was right. That would have to wait.

He hooked his finger through her belt loops, gave her a shorter version of the kiss and walked to the door. “I've gotta say it, though. This is one for the books.”

As she closed the door, Lizzie's earlier fatigue gave way to an urge for cleaning house. She was all nervous energy and anxiety pushing to keep busy. She started by dusting then progressed to vacuuming the main floor, followed by washing the kitchen floor. She glanced at the clock before carting the vacuum upstairs and was shocked to see it was well past midnight. She felt like she could go on for several more hours but knew how foolish that would be. Instead she opted for a cup of chamomile tea and a good book.

Her two Siamese cats, Brie and Edam, raced by her on the way upstairs and had pounced on the bed, each staking out its claim by the time she walked into the bedroom. She left the window open, hoping to take advantage of the soft evening breeze, crawled under a light sheet, the only bedding she used during the summer, and selected from the top of a pile of paperbacks and hardbacks on her bedside table the copy of
Clobbered by Camembert
by Avery Aames. She'd been wanting to dive into it for a while. Now would be a good time to start, and if she fell asleep reading, so much the better. She could always start again at the beginning the next time.

She couldn't concentrate. Her mind kept looping back over what had happened to Molly. She set the book on the bedside table, turned out the light and slid down under the cover.

The next thing she knew, her radio clicked on its usual early morning hour. She liked to get up at the same time all year round, finding it much easier on her body rhythms. She started a mental checklist for the day when her mind suddenly clicked on Molly. She scrambled out of bed, found the phone number for Mercy General Hospital and called the information desk, since there was no phone in Molly's room. When they couldn't give her an update, she asked for the nurses' station on the seventh floor. After several rings, the phone was answered and Lizzie asked about Molly. She breathed a sigh of relief on hearing Molly had a restful night and would probably be released later that afternoon.

Lizzie let out a whoop after hanging up, which startled Edam and Brie. They leapt off the bed and were poised at alert at the top of the stairs, beating her to the bottom when Lizzie started down.

Lizzie wondered about her next move. She'd told Mark she'd stay out of it. Well, technically she had just acknowledged she understood his asking. That wasn't exactly the same thing. And if she were to drive out to Riverwell Press to pick up a copy of Teensy's book, and if she just happened to ask Orwell Rivers some questions at the same time, that couldn't be construed to be deliberately nosing around.

She liked that plan. And she could fit it in this morning in plenty of time before she had to go to Molly's. Lizzie ate a breakfast of spoonfuls of almond butter to top off bites of banana, quickly ran upstairs to change into a red sleeveless cotton blouse and white crop pants and was headed to Riverwell Press by nine o'clock. She hadn't thought to wonder if it would be open at that hour. She shrugged. She'd just have to hope for the best.

She pulled into the parking lot twenty minutes later. The lot was empty and the building looked dark. Not so good a start. She tried the front door but that was locked, even though the posted hours on the door were weekdays eight to four. She walked around to the back and noticed an older blue Ford Taurus parked next to the rear entrance.

Frustrated, she peered through the windows. At first she couldn't see anything but outlines of large objects. Slowly her eyes adjusted and she noticed a large file cabinet to the right of the window, and next to that, jutting out into the room, a wide gray metal desk. And on the floor, next to the desk, what looked like a crumpled body. There was just enough light from a desk lamp to show a dark stain emanating from under the body.

Lizzie crouched down and tried to slow her heart rate.
Oh no
 . . .
not
another body.
Would the book club get pulled into yet another murder? There'd been too many bodies in too short a time.

She wondered if the attacker had left or lurked just inside the door. Without a look back, she darted around the front to her own car, jumped in and locked the doors. With a shaky hand, she pulled out her cell phone and punched in 911.

The dispatcher advised her to stay locked inside her car until the police got there. It was a short wait until two police cars and an ambulance arrived in tandem. She rolled down her window and told the officer what she'd seen. One car drove around the back followed by the ambulance. The other car was just about to pull across and block the entrance to the parking lot when Mark pulled in.

Lizzie got out of her car and managed to stay calm by leaning back against it.

“I don't believe it,” Mark said in an exasperated voice. “You're first at a crime scene again? Didn't I tell you not to get involved?” He looked at her and then wrapped his arms around her, whispering in her ear, “Are you all right?”

Lizzie gently pulled away. “Yes, I am. But whoever is inside sure isn't.”

“You wait here. And I mean it. I'll be right back.”

Mark signaled to the officer at the other cruiser to keep an eye out and he walked around back of the building. About ten minutes later he came back. “The body is that of the owner, Orwell Rivers, and he's been murdered. Did you see anyone else when you were arriving?”

“No. The lot was empty and I don't recall passing by any cars heading into town from this direction. Not once I got on Beaufort Road.”

“What are you doing out here anyway?” He sounded sterner now, although see couldn't see his eyes behind his shiny reflective sunglasses. He'd left his police hat in the car and perspiration glistened on his forehead. She wanted to tell him he'd better put the hat on but thought better of it, looking at the set line of his mouth.

“Honestly, I just came out to get a copy of Teensy's book. I wanted to read it before I see her again. And I hoped to make arrangements for the delivery of more books. I know Molly would want that done right away.”

Mark sighed. “When a suspect starts out a statement with the word ‘honestly,' I know it's most certainly anything but.”

“Suspect? What am I suspected of?”

“Meddling. Now, did you call him this morning before heading out here?”

“No, I just took a chance he'd be here. And he was.” She swallowed hard. “I couldn't believe it when I saw him lying there. Don't you think it's suspicious that this would happen the day after Molly was attacked? And they both had something to do with Teensy's book?”

“That may not be the only connection between the two. Or there might not be a connection at all. There doesn't have to be. These could be two very separate incidents. But yes, it is suspicious. And now even more dangerous. Which is why I'm telling you to stay out of it.” He ran his hand across his damp forehead and removed his sunglasses. “Have you heard how Molly is doing this morning?”

“She had a good night. I'm still hoping she'll be released this afternoon.”

“Well, shouldn't you be at home preparing or something?”

“I'll be staying with her at her place.” Lizzie was about to tell him she wasn't going anywhere just yet, not while they were still searching for clues, but decided against it when she noticed the dark look in his eyes. He was quite serious about this.

“Good. Now I'll watch while you drive away from here to make certain you're not being followed.” He kissed her on the forehead and opened her car door.

He's kidding, isn't he?

And he never saw his killer.

DOG TAGS
—DAVID ROSENFELT

L
izzie glanced at the dashboard clock as she stopped at the next intersection. Noon already. She'd meant to stop in at the school board office this morning and check if the books she'd ordered for the first term had come in but that would have to wait. She decided to stop at the hospital and just make sure Molly would still be released as planned. Of course, she had no intention of burdening her with the news of the death of Orwell Rivers.

“How are you, Molly? You're looking much better,” Lizzie said with relief once she'd passed through the gauntlet of medical staff and police guard. “Hey, Bob.”

Molly waved the observation away. “I'm feeling great and I can't wait to get out of here.”

“Molly, you'll never guess what's happened,” Lizzie began then realized this was exactly what she'd pledged not to do. She tried to backpedal. “I thought I'd just check in and see if it's a go this afternoon.”

Bob stood and walked around the bed to stand next to Lizzie. “It is and she's doing quite fine. Of course, she'll have to be watched. The doc said he'd give me a list of things to be aware of. Now, what's going on?”

Lizzie sighed. “I hadn't meant to bring this up here but . . . Anyway, I went out to Riverwell Press this morning to try to get a copy of Teensy's book. And, well, I found Orwell Rivers's body.”

Molly gasped. “By body, you mean that he's dead?”

“Murder?” Bob asked.

“It looks to be,” Lizzie answered. “I didn't stick around very long after the police arrived so I don't have many details.”

Bob went back to his chair. “Now, that's right puzzling. Just too many things connected to Teensy Coldicutt's book. Do you know any more about its contents?”

“Just what Teensy said, and she swears there's nothing in it that would result in all this. No secrets revealed, for instance.”

“Well, something's going on. Molly, maybe you should just stay right here in the hospital for a few more days. The police might have some answers by then.” The look on Bob's face reflected the concern in his voice.

“Don't talk nonsense,” Molly retorted. “I'm not in any danger. They've had their go at me. And they've got the books, so I couldn't be safer. But if you're concerned, Lizzie, you don't need to stay with me.”

“You can't get rid of me that easily, Molly. What time do you want me over?”

Molly looked at Bob, who shrugged and checked his watch. “What, say, three?” Molly nodded.

“Okay. I'll be there.” Lizzie gave Molly a quick kiss on her cheek and waved good-bye to Bob.

Out in the hall she thought about Bob's suggestion. Was Molly still in danger? Maybe Mark would post a guard at her house.
Here we go again.

• • •

L
izzie sat in her car in the hospital parking lot for several minutes trying to decide what to do next. She wanted to head right back out to Riverwell Press to see what the police had found out but she knew Mark would get angry. Of course, she could just cruise by and if his Jeep wasn't in the parking lot just stop in and see if Officer Craig was there. She seemed to be more approachable since the police staff party last Christmas. And Lizzie really did want to know if there were any copies of Teensy's book in the warehouse. She needed to get her hands on a copy and decide for herself if the reason for the attack and theft lay in the book.

She kept telling herself all the way back along Beaufort Road that she had a right to be inquiring about the book. She was in charge of PR, after all, and they needed to get some books for the launch. That is, if they still went ahead with the plans. Would it be too dangerous? Maybe they should delay the launch until the case was solved.

She pulled over to the shoulder as she neared the parking lot. She couldn't see Mark's Jeep but maybe he'd parked it around back. What to do? She'd put her PR hat on and walk right up to the front door, that's what.

She hadn't counted on the officer who stopped her before she'd walked halfway across the parking lot. He looked vaguely familiar, probably from the party, but his name escaped her.

“You can't go in there. I'm sorry, there's a police investigation in progress,” he said, not sounding at all sorry.

“Is Officer Craig around?”

He looked startled. “Nope.”

“I just need to talk to whoever is in charge, please”—she peered at his name tag—“Officer Vicker. My name is Lizzie Turner and I'm the one who found the body earlier.”

Vicker's gaze swung to the right behind her. She heard footsteps approaching across the gravel lot. From the look of satisfaction on Vicker's face, Lizzie knew she was busted.

“I thought I told you not to get involved,” Mark said, grabbing her left arm as he came up to her side.

Lizzie tried to look contrite but figured it wasn't working since Mark definitely appeared upset. She sighed.
Remember, Ms. PR.
“I just need to know if Teensy's books are here. I was so flustered earlier, I never thought to ask. That was the reason I came out here, after all.”

Mark folded his arms across his chest and stared at her a few seconds before answering. “Yes, there are quite a few boxes in the warehouse with Miz Coldicutt's name on them. I assume those are the books, but they're part of an investigation now, so I can't let you have them.”

“Oh, come on, Mark. Molly needs them for the launch that's coming up. The book club needs to get reading them. They're not the murder weapons, after all. Can't I take a few boxes with me?”

“I know you'll think this is being picky but the funny thing about the law is it can come back to bite you if procedures aren't followed. Now, they're present at the scene of a crime and so they have to be logged into the reports. I'll need to see a receipt from Miz Mathews's purchases and then I might be able to release the books to her.”

“Don't you think you're being just a tad pigheaded about this?”

“Do you recall my telling you about the new DA? And about how he's being a stickler for every ‘t' being crossed and ‘i' being dotted?”

Lizzie huffed. “Maybe we could invite him to the launch. That way he'll have to give us the books.”

Mark grimaced. “You must be desperate.”

“I am.”

Mark gave her arm a light squeeze. “I'll see what I can do. But I do want you to leave now. Go home and write out your statement and I'll come by to pick it up later. You know the drill.”

“I'll be at Molly's.”

Mark nodded and turned away to answer a question from one of his officers.

Lizzie felt dejected. This wasn't promising. She knew Mark wasn't to blame but she wished he could plead their case to the DA and get those books released. Was this new guy on a power trip or what? She took a deep breath and forced herself to concentrate on the road.

She decided to go home, write out the statement and pack a few things in her overnight bag. She'd ask her neighbor Nathaniel Creely to feed the cats tomorrow morning so she wouldn't have to rush home. She knew he'd be willing. Hopefully he'd be home. He'd been spending so much time with his new love interest, Lizzie was never sure when she'd find him around. The fact that he was also Lizzie's landlord guaranteed he would appear at some point.

His brand-new bright red Chrysler 200 sedan sat parked in his driveway. He'd bought it not too long after he'd started seriously dating Lavenia Ellis. Lizzie took it as a symbol of his new outlook on life. He was moving on. After all, his wife had been dead for over seven years. Lizzie parked and went up to his front door. It opened before she was able to knock.

“Lizzie, my dear, you startled me,” Nathaniel said, then added with a twinkle in his eye, “but such a pleasant way to be startled.”

“Sorry, Nathaniel. Are you on your way out?”

“Yes. Lavenia and I are attending a meeting of the Horticultural Society at the public library this afternoon. That's where we first met, you know.” His smile showed he was very pleased with himself. His wire-rimmed glasses were pushed up on his forehead and his thinning white hair had been recently cut, no longer hanging straight and on the long side. It now was layered and shaped around his ears, shorter in the back, too. He looked years younger, Lizzie thought.

“I remember. I just have a quick favor to ask. Could you please feed the cats tomorrow?”

“I can and will. Gladly. Happy to help out. You'll be out of town?”

“No, I'm going to stay with Molly. I'm not sure for how long. She's getting out of the hospital this afternoon and needs someone to keep an eye on her.”

“I'd heard about that dreadful incident. She's going to be all right?”

“Yes, thankfully. She was tied up and hit on the head but the doctor says she'll be fine.”

“That's good,” Nathaniel said. “I also heard it had something to do with Teensy Coldicutt's book?”

“Yes. Did you know Teensy before she moved away?”

“I didn't know her; rather I knew of her and that group of Molly's friends. I was several years older, you know. Still am.” He chuckled. “They were quite the gals as I recall. Fearless and always pulling pranks. Oh, nothing serious or anything that would hurt anyone. Just enough to get a bit of a reputation. And now she's back and has written a book and next thing you know, Molly gets hit on the head.” He shook his head.

“Not only that,” Lizzie said. “I went out to Riverwell Press today, out on Beaufort Road, to pick up some copies of the book, and I found the body of Orwell Rivers.”

“Orwell Rivers is dead? My, that's not good.”

“You knew him?”

“Again, I knew of him. It's hard to live in Ashton Corners all your life and not know someone who's done the same.”

“I suppose so.”

“What I don't like is the fact that you're once again mixed up in murder. That could be too dangerous, Lizzie. I hope you'll take care. Is there anything I can do other than feed the cats?”

“Not that I can think of. Thanks for asking and I do appreciate it. I'll let you know how long I'll be staying if it's longer than overnight. Enjoy your meeting.” Lizzie grinned, resisting the urge to wink.

Nathaniel nodded and pulled the door shut, locked it and walked down the stairs and over to his car. Lizzie walked to her place, an extension at the side. It was a two-story white clapboard house with wraparound porch, and the two-bedroom addition made an ideal, cozy home for her and the two cats. The colorful patches of dahlias, sunflowers, hibiscus and green ferns made a welcoming first impression on visitors.

She quickly packed an overnight bag, throwing in a change of clothes, pajamas and toiletries before refilling the cats' dishes. It really did seem like too much of a coincidence. Molly, Orwell Rivers and Teensy's book. That had to be the key. Maybe Teensy would lend her a copy of the manuscript if she had to wait much longer for the books to be released.

Lizzie rummaged through her purse and found the piece of paper with Teensy's phone number. Feeling sudden pangs of hunger, she grabbed the jar of almond butter from the cupboard and had a couple of mouthfuls before giving Teensy a call. What she was going to say, she had no idea.

A slightly breathless Teensy answered on the fourth ring. “Hey, Lizzie. I'm so glad you called. I was thinking I'd like to stop in at Molly's this afternoon when she gets home from the hospital. I know you'll be staying with her. Do you think it's all right if I come by?”

Lizzie wondered if it was wise to have too many people there at once. Surely Bob would want to stay. But it wasn't really up to her. Molly could tell Teensy if she needed some quiet time. “I'm going over to Molly's for three o'clock so how about sometime after that?” She could also ask Teensy her questions at that time.

“So, what was it you wanted, sugar? I just sort of jumped right in there like my mouth's overloaded my tail. Oops, wait just one itsy minute. There's a police car in my drive and an officer of the law at my door. Maybe I'd just better hang up and I'll see you later today.”

“Bye, Teensy.” Lizzie wondered if Teensy was about to be given the news about her publisher. And she hadn't even had a chance to ask Teensy to bring along her manuscript. She'd have to make do with blindly asking some more questions until she did read it.