Taken In (23 page)

Tori held off any further explanation from Charles with her hand and addressed Barbara directly. “So why didn’t you say anything when John was murdered? Why did you let my friend go to prison if you knew this was going on?”

Confusion clouded Barbara’s eyes, chasing all remnants of her silly alias from Tori’s mind. “Because I figured John had lied to me that day just like he lied to me two years ago. Only I figured this southern woman had the guts to do what so many of his cons only wished they had done.”

“And the newspapers? Why didn’t you take what you knew about Gavin to them?”

This time, Barbara’s eyes disappeared behind her hands. “Because I thought about what John had said that last morning. About the world knowing I’d been conned.”

Tori almost pointed out they were about to find out anyway, but she let it go. Maybe they wouldn’t have to know after all. Murder was, after all, a far bigger crime than anything else Gavin may have done.

Tori was putting the second to last folding chair on the cart when she finally felt settled enough to share her hypothesis. “He put that scarf in Dixie’s bag when we were at the studio that day. He heard what she said to Melly and Kenneth on set and to the rest of us at some point or another in the Green Room and he realized he had the perfect scapegoat.”

Charles, who’d been looking at the door off and on since before the meeting started, let off a little yelp.

“What? You think I’m wrong?” she asked. “Charles, it’s all right there.”

“No . . . I think you’re right. It’s just that I’ve only seen murderers on TV and on one field trip to the county jail when I was about seven.” He held his finger in the air then retrieved a still-full lunch sack from the shelf beneath the register and dumped the contents, which included a crustless sandwich, an overripened banana, and a purple Pixie Stix, onto the counter, and held the bag to his mouth.

One breath in . . .

One breath out . . .

One breath in . . .

One breath out . . .

He moved the bag to the side and continued. “But right here . . . in the bookstore? That’s another matter entirely.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about, Charles?”

“Gavin. He said he might try to show up tonight. To surprise the ladies in the book club.”

The final chair slipped from her hands and clattered onto the tile floor. “He’s coming here? Tonight? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” he fairly wailed.

“And in the twenty minutes or so since we pinned him as a murderer?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out what we should do!”

Indeed.

Looking around the store, she made a mental note of the secondary exit located on the far wall of the adjacent café. Only a handful of people still remained in the store, with all but one of them engaged in conversation over a latte or a soda. The one actual book browser was seemingly oblivious to everything but the story unfolding between his hands.

“Do we call the police? Tell them what he did?”

It was the smart way to go even if it wasn’t her first inclination.

“Are you sure he’s coming?”

“No.”

“The book club’s already gone home for the evening,” she pointed out while bobbing her head around the nearest bookshelf to gain a view of the front door.

“But that’s because of everything that happened. They’re usually here long after we close.”

“Gavin doesn’t know that.”

Charles nibbled the left side of his mouth. “Yes, he does. I told him myself when he was here for his talk and I mentioned tonight’s book club.”

So much for that theory . . .

But even as a part of her worried along with Charles, another part of her—an even larger part—welcomed the opportunity to give Gavin Rollins a piece of her mind.

For Dixie.

For Barbara.

For Doug and his mom.

For Caroline and Susie.

And for all the other women who’d had their hearts manipulated and broken so he could climb the ladder to fame and fortune.

“You have Al’s number on your phone?” she finally asked. “You know, the cop who arranged it so we could spend some real time with Dixie?”

Charles nodded between glances at the door and an occasional breath or two in his brown paper bag.

“Go in the back and call him. Tell him what’s going on and tell him to get some cops here ASAP.”

Slowly, he pulled the bag from his mouth and relinquished it to the counter in exchange for the purple Pixie Stix. “Then what? Do I come back out here?”

“Just stay back there until help arrives.”

“You know the ladies will have my head if they hear I left you out here with a murderer all by—”

The bell that announced the comings and goings of customers from the building clanged and Charles scurried off into the back room like a frightened rabbit, leaving Tori alone with a few clueless customers and her own pounding heart.

She lifted the final chair up off the floor and held it to her chest as Gavin came around the corner with a smile and a nod.

“Still in the Big Apple, I see.”

“Not for much longer.” She tried not to flinch at the acidic sound in her voice and instead used her grip on the chair to find the calm she knew she needed for however long it took for the men in blue to arrive.

If Gavin noticed her tone, though, it didn’t show. “I’m sorry your friend won’t be going home with you as you’d hoped. That has to be a really tough pill to swallow.”

“It would be if that were the case, but it’s not.”

His surprise was fast, fleeting, but she saw it nonetheless. “They’re letting her leave the state?”

She placed the last chair on the cart and wheeled it behind the counter and over to the door behind which Charles had disappeared. Inhaling quickly, she opened the door, made eye contact with a stunned Charles long enough to earn her the nod she sought, pushed the cart inside, and returned to the shop and a still-bewildered Gavin.

“My friends and I have known since day one that Dixie had nothing to do with John Dreyer’s murder. We knew it just as surely as we knew we’d eventually figure out who
did
. And we were right.”

The door-triggered bell sounded twice and then once again as a pair of coffee drinkers and the lone reader headed out into the night, leaving Tori alone with Gavin, two remaining café holdouts, and an utterly silent Charles in the back room.

Gavin glanced over his shoulder then back at Tori, his voice clear and professional as it left his mouth for the benefit of the holdouts. “McCormick’s is now closed.”

Her eyes darted toward the café as the pair seated at the far table slowly rose to their feet and headed toward the door, their awareness of the world around them stopping with each other.

The bell chimed once, twice, and then fell silent as the reality of the empty bookstore descended around them. She could run, maybe even reach the front door, but then Charles would be alone.

And besides, he’d nodded when she opened the back door.

He’d called the police.

Throwing caution to the wind, she placed the counter between herself and Gavin and had her say. “Do you have a mother, Mr. Rollins? A grandmother?”

“The reason you’re asking?” he snapped.

“Because I’m just trying to figure out how someone could take advantage of lonely women, dupe them for money, step on their hearts, and take notes while they’re doing it.”

“I didn’t take any notes.”

“You’re right, you didn’t. You just hired someone else to take them. Someone who finally wised up, realized it was wrong, and threatened to expose you as the fraud you are.”

His jaw tightened along with his fists. “My book
helped
women.”

“You think hiring someone to break women’s hearts is helping women? Please. That research helped you sell books to the same exact demographic you’ve been hunting down for years simply so you could sell a book. And then, when you’re faced with exposure because John finally realized what he was doing to people’s
hearts
, you wiggle out from under it by murdering him and trying to pin it on my friend? No way. The jig is up, Gavin.”

He lunged forward so fast she had no time to back away before his hand closed around her neck. “For you it is, sweetheart.”

The door to the stockroom slammed open and Charles ran out, brandishing his purple Pixie Stix in the air. “Get your filthy, disgusting hands off Miss Victoria right n-o-w.”

With one powerful and well-aimed blow, Gavin’s hands dropped to his side as a line of purple sugar crystals hit their emerald green mark at the exact same moment the door-mounted bell signaled the arrival of not one, but ten members of the NYPD.

Tori knew it was silly, but she just couldn’t make herself let go of Dixie’s hand. She supposed it made sense on some level—particularly the one that had linked going home to Milo with Dixie’s exoneration of any wrongdoing in John Dreyer’s death. But she also knew it went further than that, to a place deep inside her heart that wasn’t truly content unless her loved ones were safe and sound.

And as implausible as the notion might have been some two years earlier, Dixie Dunn had wormed her way into Tori’s heart just as surely as anyone else seated in their tiny circle at New York’s LaGuardia Airport.

“You doing okay, Dixie?” she asked quietly.

“I’m trying to. But it’s mighty hard to swallow the fact that the man who made me feel young again for one glorious morning didn’t really care about me at all.”

“But see, that’s where I think you’re wrong. I think you were different than all the rest. You had a real date with real smiles and real laughs.”

Dixie tugged her hand from Tori’s grasp and dropped it into her lap. “Based on what? A personality that wasn’t even mine? It was Margaret Louise’s, and Beatrice’s, and Rose’s.”

“But it was
you
who shared that breakfast table with him.
You
he took for cupcakes.
You
he took to the zoo. And
you
he wanted to see again that night.”

She saw the fleeting hope that lifted Dixie’s shoulders ever so slightly and prayed it would be enough in the end. In the meantime, she reclaimed the woman’s hand and held it tightly as the pockets of conversation that had accompanied their arrival at the gate broke in favor of one loud voice.

“Can you believe it? We’re finally goin’ home!” Margaret Louise tugged her tote bag onto her lap and smiled the kind of smile that belonged on her face the way two eyes, a nose, and a mouth belonged on everyone else’s. “It’s officially time to pee on the fire and call in the dogs on our time here in New York City.”

Leona rolled her eyes. “Must you always be so earthy, Margaret Louise?”

“Ah, Twin, put your stinger away, will ya?” Margaret Louise said as she reached into her bag and extracted her vibrating phone. “Will you look at this . . . it’s the studio callin’ to wish us well, I reckon.”

A hush fell over the group while Margaret Louise took the call.

“Hello . . . Yes, this is Margaret Louise . . . Oh, hello there, Zelman . . . Yes, we’re at the airport and Dixie is with us . . . Of course we’re glad it’s all over.”

Tori felt Dixie’s hand inside her own and squeezed ever so gently, a misty-eyed smile her reward in return. Dixie had been thrilled beyond belief when they showed up at the jail to bring her home for good. She’d laughed and she’d cried, and laughed and cried some more, but in the end, she’d mostly just been quiet.

Reflective, even.

As if her week-long stay in a New York City jail cell had changed her somehow.

“I think that’s mighty sweet, Zelman, and I can see why the show’s ratin’ would soar if we came back, but I think I can say for everyone here that we’re not all too eager to come back.”

Heads nodded around the circle.

“No, we don’t blame the city . . . we just want to go home is all . . . where we belong . . . What? Say that again? . . . Well, I’ll be! . . . Let me check.”

Margaret Louise pulled the phone from her ear and covered the mouthpiece with her free hand. “Melly and Kenneth want us on the show again. This time with Georgina and Melissa as part of the circle, too.”

The answer came in unison with nary a look at anyone other than Margaret Louise. “No!”

“Zelman said they can tape on location if we want—in Sweet Briar.”

This time, gazes mingled, shoulders shrugged, and an occasional head or two nodded. “Should I tell them we’ll get back to them?”

Tori squeezed Dixie’s hand once again. “Dixie? I think this is your call to make. Do we do it or don’t we?”

“I rather like our sewing circle being just for us and no one else. Less chance anyone can mess it up, I guess.” Dixie looked at each member of the group before settling finally on Margaret Louise. “Tell Zelman thanks but no thanks.”

With a single nod of her head, Margaret Louise delivered the news to Zelman and then tossed the phone back in her bag. “I sure am gonna miss Charles, though. That young man was a hoot and a half, wasn’t he?”

“If that’s better than being a single hoot, then I’m oh so very flattered!” Charles poked his head around the corner and then sashayed his way into the circle, his infectious smile brightening their tiny corner of the gate immeasurably.

For only the second time since Dixie’s release, Tori let go of her hand long enough to stand and hug Charles, the gratitude she felt for the eccentric bookseller more than she could ever articulate. “I had no idea you were going to be here.”

“I couldn’t let my southern friends leave without a proper send-off, now could I?”

“A proper send-off?”

Charles looked left and then right before motioning for everyone to come closer. When they did, he pulled a large black tote bag from behind his back and held it out for Dixie to see. “Do you see that appliqué right there? It’s an apple . . . to remind you of my city.”

Rose turned the bag just enough to get a proper look. “Did you sew that on yourself, young man?”

Charles beamed. “I did. Last night after I got home from the bookstore. I guess I got kinda sad when I realized you’d all be leaving and that’s when I decided I wanted to send you all home with some memories.” He turned his focus back on Dixie and placed the bag on her lap. “
Good
memories.”

“I don’t know what kind of good memories there can be,” Dixie mumbled, not unkindly.

“Well, why don’t you look inside and see.”

Reaching into the bag, Dixie pulled out an envelope with a gift card to CupKatery inside. “They ship anywhere in the United States, including Sweet Briar, South Carolina,” Charles explained.

Dixie nodded. “They were very good. Especially the pancake batter ones.”

“They’ll deliver those.” Charles nudged his chin toward the bag. “Now keep going . . .”

Again, Dixie reached inside the bag, this time pulling out a stuffed sea lion. “Victoria here told me that sea lions are your favorite animal so I thought maybe you’d like one for yourself.”

Tori blinked back the tears Dixie was unable to hide. “This is too much, Charles. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough just by how determined the rest of these ladies were to get you out of that jail.” Charles pointed to the bag one last time. “There’s one more thing in there.”

With her left arm wrapped tightly around the soft gray sea lion, Dixie slipped her right hand into the bag and extracted seven purple Pixie Stix tied together with a bright purple bow. “There’s one for each of you . . . so you’ll never forget me.”

Tori looked around at her friends, the same teary haze that made it hard for her to see clearly having the same effect on each of them. But just as she was about to speak, Dixie beat her to the punch.

“How could we forget one of our own?”

Charles swallowed. Hard.
“One of our own?”

“Of course.” Dixie looked down at her Big Apple tote bag and back up at Charles, a genuine smile lighting her face for the first time in days. “You
are
an honorary member of the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle, aren’t you?”