Cover Story (7 page)

“Oh my . . . that doesn't sound good, does it?” Molly said, watching them until they disappeared around the side of the house. “Do you think I should call Jacob at least?”

“That's probably a good idea. Jacob will know if he should go down to the station or not. Do you want me to call?”

“Would you please, honey? I think I'm just going to have a small rest. There's been much more excitement this week than I'm used to. You don't have to wait around, Lizzie. I know you have things to do. Just give me a call later.”

Lizzie gave Molly a hug and watched as she walked slowly out of the room, shoulders sagging. She quickly dialed Jacob, and when he didn't answer, left a message. Then she locked the door behind her and went to her car thinking about all that was happening.

It was only eleven in the morning. She still had lots of time to run into town and do her errands. But her first stop was at the Piggly Wiggly to pick up some boxes of tissue that were on sale. She'd also indulge in some Very, Very Dark Chocolate ice cream as a treat. She missed her usual weekend jaunts to the bookstore and now had to rely on buying the latest mysteries at one of the grocery stores, a big box outlet or online. She still preferred to actually pick the book up and thumb through it before buying. She also did not own an e-reader, her tiny rebellion at the decreasing availability of the printed page.

She couldn't help buying yet another potted hibiscus plant for herself, this one a brilliant orange color. She'd keep it inside, to brighten the kitchen. Her home phone was ringing as she struggled inside with her purchases. It was Molly.

“I'm so sorry to keep pestering you, Lizzie, but I haven't heard a thing from Bob and I'm getting worried. I can't reach him or Jacob for that matter. Have you heard anything by any chance?”

“No, I haven't, Molly. I've been out running errands. Look, why don't I just pop by the police station and see what's going on? I'll call you when I know something.”

“All right, if you wouldn't mind. And to make it worse, even his sister Lucille has been calling here trying to track him down. I just sit here and get to worrying.”

“Did you have a nap?”

“Yes, I did. I guess I was even more tired that I'd thought. Thank you, Lizzie. I'll wait to hear from you then.”

Lizzie hung up and quickly checked to see if she had any messages. Nothing. Not that she thought Jacob or Bob would call to update her. She was curious, though, and Molly was worried. That couldn't be healthy for someone who'd recently suffered a concussion. That decided it. Lizzie refilled the cats' dishes with dry food and then headed for the police station.

“A very peculiar case,” he said disapprovingly. “Freakish, you might say. Silly. Except for the corpse. Corpses,” Mr. Fox observed with severity, “are never silly.”

A WREATH FOR RIVERA
—NGAIO MARSH

L
izzie knew that the part-time officer staffing the main desk at the police station was tight-lipped at best. No way she'd get any information from Officer Hailey Yates. She decided to go directly to the top. She asked for Mark but was told he was busy and she could leave a message.

“Can you tell me if Bob Miller is still being questioned?”

“No, ma'am.”

“No, you can't tell me, or no, he's not being questioned?”

Officer Yates let out an exasperated little sigh. “I can't give you that kind of information.”

“Thank you, anyway. I think I'll just wait awhile.” Lizzie walked over and sat in a heavy-duty plastic chair, selecting from the end table a
Southern Living
magazine from the previous November to thumb through. After thirty-five minutes and six magazines, Jacob walked into the lobby. Lizzie stood quickly and waited until he'd reached her before asking about Bob.

Jacob lowered his voice and pulled Lizzie toward the front door. “Do you have time for a coffee and I'll explain?”

Lizzie nodded and they walked across the street to the Cup 'n Choc. They each ordered an iced cappuccino and took their drinks to a table at one end of the room. It was fairly crowded as most patrons chose the air-conditioned comfort as opposed to the few hardy souls who sat at the bistro tables out front in a small area cordoned off from the sidewalk by a three-foot white trellis.

“What's happening?” Lizzie asked after they'd both had sips of their drinks.

Jacob shook his head. “The dead guy was an ex-con that Bob had locked up on several occasions. His name was Cabe Wilson. Bob says he has no idea what he was doing out there. He hadn't seen him in years. However, Wilson had some counterfeit twenties in his pockets and there were also some of the same strewn around the yard. Bob denies knowing about the money and there's no motive or a weapon, so he's free to go, but he's topping their suspect list since there's no one else on it.”

“Bob's not a killer. He's still too much a lawman.”

“We know that. I think the police believe that also but they have to follow all leads. But as Bob says, he's been a cop for so long, if he'd killed someone he'd know how to make sure the body was not found. Especially in such an incriminating spot.”

Lizzie grinned. “He's right, isn't he?”

“I'd say so.” Jacob took a long sip. “This doesn't add up at all. And if someone's trying to frame Bob for the murder, which is a possibility, what does the counterfeit money have to do with it? And where did it come from?”

“It's quite unreal. Two bodies and now counterfeit money. Ashton Corners doesn't seem so far removed from the big, bad cities anymore. Is there anything I can do?”

Jacob shook his head. “Not a thing. I'm going to keep on top of this. But I think they may find the murderer quickly once they get on with the investigation. In fact, I'll give a colleague in Montgomery a call. His name is Kenneth Stokes and he's a criminal lawyer. I'll ask him to stand by in case he's needed.”

Lizzie shivered. “I hate to tell Molly what's happened but she phoned me because she couldn't reach Bob or you.”

“We'll all keep positive about this. There's got to be some explanation. We just don't see it yet.”

Lizzie glanced at the clock above the huge stainless steel espresso machine. “I should be going. I've got to get ready to go out tonight. Will you keep me in the loop?”

Jacob nodded. “Of course.” He stayed behind to finish his coffee and pulled out some papers from his briefcase.

Lizzie called Molly as soon as she got home and filled her in, trying to reassure her and emphasizing that Jacob was on top of it. Then she got ready to go out to dinner at Paige's house, choosing white cargo pants and a red floral sleeveless cross-wrap top to give her a lift.

• • •

P
aige Raleigh opened the door an instant before Lizzie knocked, as if she'd been lying in wait.

“Good to see you, girlfriend,” Paige said and gave Lizzie a big hug. She wore her long blonde hair piled atop her head, held with a clip, but not securely enough to keep in check a bevy of tendrils that fell in a frame around her face. Her cheeks were flushed. The turquoise cotton tank she'd chosen fit snugly and Lizzie was happy to see it looked like her friend had gotten over being self-conscious about the few pounds she'd gained after the birth of her second daughter.

Lizzie managed to save the bouquet of mixed fresh flowers she was holding from being crushed. She laughed. “These are for you, hostess with the mostest, and the wine is for Brad but really for all of us.”

“Thank you and thank you. Now, they're all out in the back. Grab a glass of wine on your way through the house. I need to flip the chicken breasts in the marinade and then I'll join you.”

Lizzie did as she was told, pouring herself a glass of Shiraz from the open bottle on the counter. She could hear the sound of Paige's two young daughters, Jenna and Cate, shrieking outside.

Paige grimaced. “If you have any say in the matter, choose to have boys. They yell. Girls shriek. Yelling is easier on the nerves, believe me.”

Lizzie laughed. “If I ever get to that point, I'll see what I can do about it. You sure I can't help with anything?”

“No. But if you're staying inside with me you can fill me in on your week.” Paige pulled a tall vase out of the cupboard and filled it with water.

Lizzie sighed as she sat on a bar stool at the kitchen counter. “Not a good week, I'm afraid.”

“What's happened since the book incident? Is Molly fully recovered now?” She played with the floral arrangement, cutting the stems at various lengths, then carried the vase to the table.

“Yes, she seems to be just fine. But I can't quite get past the feeling when I found Molly lying on the floor. I've always thought of her as being so infallible. And to think it could have been so much worse. She could have been . . .”

“Don't go there, Lizzie.” Paige put her arm around Lizzie's shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “I know how much she means to you but she did recover so just don't go there.”

Lizzie nodded and took a sip of wine.

“And no more bodies?”

“Well, actually, yes. But I didn't find this one. It was found in Bob's backyard.” Lizzie filled Paige in on all that had happened since then and took a long sip of her wine.

Paige shook her head. “I cannot believe all that's been happening here in Ashton Corners. And what about Mark? He must be pulling his hair out. Oops, forgot. He doesn't have any.” She giggled and Lizzie joined in.

The back door opened and Brad Raleigh walked in. At six-foot-five, he towered above the two of them. “Is everything funny to the two of you?” He smiled as he put an arm around Lizzie's shoulder and gave her a kiss on the cheek. His dark brown beard tickled and she ran her hand along the side of his face.

Lizzie grinned. “Just nervous reaction, I think. Paige will tell you all about it later. I see she hasn't talked you out of the beard yet.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not going to happen, either. I let her have her way with everything else around here . . .”

“Since when?” Paige shrieked.

He continued, “But my face is my decision.”

“You go, guy. No decisions for me tonight. I'd just like to relax and eat.” Lizzie held up her drink. “And drink.”

“Well, you've come to the right place,” he answered. The front doorbell rang. “I'll get that.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows at Paige. “Don't know,” Paige answered. “Brad was on the phone and said there'd be one more for dinner.”

Lizzie broke out in a smile when she saw Mark following Brad into the kitchen. Mark gave her a kiss and said, “I'm afraid it will be eat and run but Brad said that wouldn't be a problem.” He handed a box of chocolate pecan fudge to Paige.

“Happy to have you here for any amount of time, Mark. Especially when you're bearing my favorite indulgence.”

Lizzie wrapped her arm around Mark's waist.

“Why don't we move the show outside,” Brad said, grabbing the wine bottle, “and I'll conjure up some of the best chicken you two have ever eaten.”

“I don't know,” Mark shot back. “I've seen you flipping meat before. Maybe I should offer my services.”

“I think you'd better save your services for later on,” Lizzie said, reaching for the plate of shrimp and bacon appetizers Paige passed over to her.

Brad hooted and Mark grinned as he held the door open for Lizzie and Paige. By the time they finished their meal, Lizzie could see that Mark was back in work mode.

“I'm real sorry to eat and run,” Mark said glancing at his watch.

Paige started stacking the dishes. “Nonsense. It was fun having you here. We don't get to see much of you these days.”

“No one does,” Lizzie said softly.

Mark looked at her and held out his hand, drawing her out of her seat. He gave Paige a kiss on her cheek and shook Brad's hand. “Thanks, man. Best breast, chicken, I mean, that I've ever eaten.”

“Yeah, right,” Paige chuckled, watching Lizzie and Mark walk toward the corner of the house.

“It was a very pleasant surprise having you here tonight,” Lizzie said when they'd reached his Jeep.

“Totally unexpected. Brad called and said to come on over, so I did. And I'm glad I did.” He pulled Lizzie into his arms and kissed her. He leaned his forehead against hers and said, “By the way, the boxes of books that were stolen from Molly's have been found.”

Lizzie pulled back to watch his face. “Where? Are they all right?”

Mark dropped his arms and leaned back against the Jeep. “They were found by a man climbing down the riverbank at the side of Highway 2. Said he was going fishing but when he saw all the boxes, he figured someone must have ditched the load so he called us.”

“How bizarre. How come they weren't found sooner?”

“The trees and underbrush are real dense there. Unfortunately, a lot of the boxes had broken open and gone through that night of rain we had on the weekend. I'm not sure how many are sellable. And, it looks like three boxes are missing.”

“That's not good news, although it is good they've been found. When can we take a look at them?”

“Whenever you want. We searched through them and then transferred them back to the Riverwell Press warehouse.”

Lizzie leaned into Mark. “Thanks for letting me know. I'll tell Teensy and Molly.” She tilted her head up and he kissed her again before leaving.

Why couldn't those jerks just leave the boxes nicely piled under cover somewhere if they didn't want them? But why did they take them in the first place?

Oh, woe to the woman who sticks her nose in a book and forgets that real life is not always destined for Happily Ever After.

WITHERING HEIGHTS
—DOROTHY CANNELL

S
unday morning was hot as ever. Seventy-nine degrees already according to Lizzie's outdoor thermometer, with a high over ninety predicted. She was out running before six again. That didn't work out too well. Standing under a tepid shower for several minutes after the run helped somewhat.

The cats followed her around the house until she took her espresso into the living room and sat on the love seat. Both cats jumped up on her and vied to be the one to curl up in her lap. Brie won while Edam leapt up to the top of the backrest and settled there. Lizzie read a couple of sections of the
Birmingham News
then displaced Brie so that she could make some breakfast. By the time she'd finished her fruit salad, the cats were sitting on the front window ledge nattering at the birds.

Lizzie donned a fresh pair of shorts and a tank T-shirt then pulled the vacuum out of the closet. She spent the next two hours cleaning the house then poured a glass of water and went outside to sit on her small wooden deck.

After another quick change, this time into a blue and green sundress, she drove out to Magnolia Manor to visit her mama. She parked in what looked like the last vacant spot. Something must be going on. Although people were usually seated at the groupings of wicker chairs on the front porch of the large white antebellum mansion, today it was surprisingly empty.

The first person she ran into once she'd entered the building was the activities director, who told her she'd find Evelyn Turner in the dining room where the residents were celebrating a birthday party. The room was full and Lizzie noticed that many in there were guests. A frail white-haired woman was standing behind a large slab cake with white and pink icing, having her picture taken. A white and black banner decorated the wall behind her, stating, “Happy One Hundredth Birthday, Gertrude!” Balloons were taped at intervals around the walls of the room.

Lizzie spotted her mama at a table for four, across the room and next to the window. She managed to thread her way through the tables without too much distraction and reached her goal just as everyone started singing “Happy Birthday.” She joined in then pulled a vacant chair over beside Evelyn.

“How are you today, Mama?” Lizzie asked, leaning close to her ear. Evelyn continued staring out the window, oblivious to the festivities around her. Lizzie helped her with the slice of cake that had been set on the table, trying a bite for herself, and attempted some small talk, finally giving up when the hum of voices became too loud.

When most of the cake had finally disappeared, Lizzie suggested they take a short walk outside. The weather was surprisingly cooperative with a gentle breeze helping to keep things comfortable. They sat for a while on a bench overlooking the colorful flower beds at the side of the building, and when Lizzie had finished telling Evelyn all about her week, she guided her back inside to her room.

“Why don't we read some more of
Emma
today, Mama?” Lizzie picked up the book and sat across the small coffee table. After three chapters, she turned the radio on low, gave her mama a kiss, took a deep breath and left.

All the way home she replayed the visit in her mind, as she always did, searching for signs that Evelyn was having a good day or maybe had recognized her. At least she'd seemed content. That would have to be enough.

Mark called as she walked in the door. Lizzie had been hoping he could make it over for supper but he had to beg off, saying there'd been a break-in at the Sheridan Performing Arts Center and of course, it being a summer weekend and being short staffed, he'd taken the call.

She decided it was a good evening for reading. She eyed her to be read pile in the front room:
Iced Chiffon
by Duffy Brown;
The Diva Digs Up the Dirt
by Krista Davis; Jacklyn Brady's
Cake on a Hot Tin Roof
; and the latest from Ellery Adams. No, they'd have to wait. She had to finish Teensy's manuscript. Only two hundred pages to go and so far, nothing that could be considered remotely as a motive. By the time she reached the end, she felt like she was going cross-eyed and decided bed was a good option. She was sure of one thing, though. Teensy's book had nothing to do with all that had been happening in town. Unless it was written in code or had some other mysterious meaning unknown even to Teensy.

The cats followed her upstairs after finishing off their evening treats. The phone rang as she was brushing her teeth. She caught it just before it went to message, hoping it was Mark, but was surprised to hear Teensy's voice instead.

“I'm sorry to be calling you so late, sugar,” Teensy said, “but I wanted to confirm that you're still planning on going to Riverwell Press tomorrow morning to help me pick up those boxes of books and move them on to Molly's.”

Lizzie glanced up at the ceiling.
As if I'd forget.
“Of course, Teensy. I haven't forgotten. By the way, did the police tell you they've recovered the missing books?”

“They sure did, sugar. That's good news, although it sounds like maybe a lot were damaged so we'll also have to sort through them tomorrow.”

“No problem. What time?”

“How about ten?” Lizzie could hear music playing in the background. It sounded like Wagner. Interesting.

“Fine. See you then.”

She gave Mark a quick call before turning out the light. She told him what she'd discovered, or rather had not discovered, reading the book. Nothing. He sounded half asleep so she didn't prolong the conversation. Glancing at her bedside clock radio she realized why. It was after one
A.M.

She'd meant to tell Teensy about finishing her book but maybe it was best not to mention that unless asked. She'd have to come up with a tactful way of complimenting Teensy. It really was quite the accomplishment, finishing writing the tome. It just . . . well, hopefully others would gush over it. Thank goodness for differences in reading tastes.