A Killer Read (13 page)

A
fter Andie left, Lizzie joined Molly in the kitchen again. She grabbed a sugar cookie off the new plate that had been set on the table. Molly put a fresh cup of tea in front of her and said, “Nothing has come to me, looking at those class lists, except for the fact that I really don’t know many of them personally. Now, I should do something about that. Maybe have a garden party on Sunday afternoon. I know it’s really late in the season for this, but the weather’s been so fine and warm up till now. And I heard the forecast says it will hold for another couple of weeks.” Her face lit up. “Yes. Let everyone get to know each other better. I’m sure some of them could do with extra friendships. What do you think? Is this too short notice?”

“I think that you’re the only person I know who could turn a manhunt into a garden party. Actually, it might not be a bad idea. We could keep a real close eye on the study and see if anyone makes another try.” Lizzie nodded. “Yes, that’s a great idea, Molly. I don’t think it would matter much
if you gave them two days’ or two weeks’ notice. But is that enough time for you to get it organized?”

“Of course. We’re talking only, what, thirteen plus you and Sally-Jo and me— sixteen people. I’m sure I can twist a few arms and get a caterer. Worse comes to worse, I’ll just stock up on food at the deli.” She grabbed a piece of paper and pen and started making a list. “Let’s see, I’ll need some tables and chairs, too. And music. Oh, this will surely be fun.”

“Okay. That’s great. Just tell me what to do, and I’m sure Sally-Jo would love to help also. I can start calling the students before our meeting tonight.”

“No, don’t do that. I like the idea of printed invitations better. Makes it seem more special, and then they have the reminders right in front of them. I’ll take care of that, print some up later tonight and then drop them off at everyone’s houses in the morning. I’ll just make note of their addresses here.”

“That’s a nice touch.” Lizzie glanced at the clock hanging above the fridge. “I’d better get going if I plan to be back in time for the special book club meeting tonight. And I’m serious about the garden party. I’m ready to help, so just tell me what and when.” She gave Molly a quick hug. “Thanks for the sweets.”

“Y’all are welcome, honey. Now make sure you have a proper meal tonight, too. I worry about you and your cooking skills, or lack of them.”

“I haven’t withered away yet, have I?” Lizzie didn’t want to get into another discussion about her often thrown-together meals, most of them missing one or two of the main food groups.

“Not yet,” Molly acknowledged. “Say, why don’t you stay here for dinner? That would save the drive back and forth. And I guarantee a complete, tasty meal.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got some prep work for tomorrow that I want to get to now rather than later tonight. I’ll see you in a little while.” She gave a small wave and left
before she could be persuaded to stay. She knew the routine with Molly, and she usually ended up giving in.

She’d never learned anything from her mama in the kitchen and usually didn’t have the time or interest in doing something about it. Maybe she should sign up for some cooking classes. She could get a real good teacher’s discount at night school. Now, Mark’s taking cooking classes… that was a totally unexpected revelation. For some reason, she couldn’t picture him in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist, whipping up a soufflé.

She wondered what Mark was cooking up for dinner.

A
ndie Mason was the last to arrive at the impromptu book club gathering. Again. I guess I’d better get used to it, thought Lizzie with a sigh. At least she’s here.

“Lizzie, what are you hoping we can accomplish by this meeting?” Jacob asked as Sally-Jo finished passing around the plates of cookies and cheese straws. He looked very much the lawyer tonight: dark suit and tie with a pale blue striped shirt, expensive Kenneth Cole loafers on his feet.

“I’m not sure, Jacob. I thought maybe if we pooled our thoughts about the past few days and what happened when we were each interrogated by the police, we might come up with some additional facts.”

“And just what are you hoping to do with those facts, young lady?” Bob Miller chimed in, sounding still very much the chief. He was wearing his trademark faded denim jeans, a plaid flannel shirt that at one point must have been a vivid blue, and gray socks, clean looking but with a hole in the right heel. He’d left his shoes at the front door, as usual. Lizzie thought the look suited him far better than the gray police uniform he’d worn for so long.

“Maybe we can spot something the police haven’t,” she said.

“Help them.” Bob snorted.

“Well, help them look in a direction other than our book club. I’m sure you agree with that, Bob.”

He settled back in his chair and took a large bite of the cookie in his hand. “It would give me great pleasure to present the chief with the name of the killer, yes. But murder isn’t something to play around with. I should know. I think you’d better leave this up to the professionals.”

“It’s not like we’re going out there stirring up trouble,” Lizzie said, looking at Sally-Jo for support.

“Lizzie’s right,” Sally-Jo agreed. “It seems like the police, one officer in particular, is focused on us, and that’s the wrong direction. Maybe we can figure something out and give her a nudge in the right direction.” She winked at Lizzie.

Bob harrumphed. “I certainly wouldn’t have stood for any of that in my day. I figure, if nothing else, this new chief feels that way also. But”—he slowly looked around the room, his gaze lingering on the plate of cheese straws—“count me in.”

He leaned over to Stephanie and whispered to her to pass him the plate, which she did after taking one for herself.

“So, does anyone have any information to share? Did the police say anything about their investigation or the murder that we don’t already know?” Lizzie asked.

Stephanie shook her head and buried herself in her knitting. Lizzie noticed the short-sleeved purple cotton T-shirt she wore stretched a bit tighter around her swollen belly than the one she’d worn last week. Just a couple of months until she’d give birth. Lizzie made a mental note to find out if she had all the clothing and supplies she’d need.

Andie chirped up. “So did they haul any of you to the station in handcuffs?” She sounded excited at the thought.

“No, heaven forbid,” Molly jumped in. “Officer Craig interviewed me here at the house, but she was very pushy about it. She didn’t give anything away either. But she seemed disappointed when I told her I was born and raised in Ashton Corners. In fact, I haven’t lived anywhere else.
Claydon and I traveled abroad a couple of times and out to the West Coast, but we were really homebodies and thought we had all we wanted or needed right close by.”

Bob nodded and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I did my stint in the army, stationed at Fort Bragg and then overseas in the Vietnam War, but that’s about it.

“How about you, Jacob?” Bob asked. “Did they try to pin some connection on you?”

Jacob shook his head. “I had our intrepid Officer Craig, also. She really wanted me to have been in Stoney Mills at some point, but I haven’t, so she eventually gave up. It helps being a lawyer. I’m really adept at turning the questions back on her.” He grinned.

Bob snorted. “These days I can take some pleasure in that ability. Sure used to get my dander up though, dealing with lawyers.”

Lizzie had been watching Stephanie for several minutes. She was concentrating solely on her knitting, trying to appear small or even invisible, it seemed. It would be tricky, trying to get her to talk, but it needed to be done.

Just jump right in
, Lizzie told herself, and then asked, “Stephanie, did Officer Craig question you, too?”

Stephanie took a deep breath and looked up at them. “Yes.”

“Not pleasant, I’ll bet.”

“No, not a bit.”

“It’s hard when people start prying into your personal life, I know,” Lizzie said. And thought,
She’s not going to say anything with all of us staring at her. I’ll try seeing her alone. Maybe if I keep slowly chipping away, I can get some answers.

Molly looked from Stephanie back to Lizzie. “So, what we’re saying is the police are looking for a past connection, but what I want to know is, why did Frank Telford come here, to my house?”

“That’s right,” Lizzie said. “The question is, did Telford
know about our meeting and come here for that reason, which is highly unlikely because the book club wasn’t widely advertised. But if it is the reason, the question still is, why?”

“One of us could have told him,” Bob interjected.

“You’re right, but that would mean that person knew Telford. And we’ve all claimed we didn’t know the man.”
Or won’t admit it
. She looked around the room at everyone. She couldn’t believe any of them were involved. “Why would he want to come to this house?”

Bob scratched his head and tried to smooth the long, gray strands of hair over the thinning spot right on top. “That’s a good question. But here’s another: was it all just a coincidence?”

Lizzie felt a buzz of excitement. Lots of questions and no answers, as yet.

“If Agatha Christie were writing this,” Molly said, “then she would use the ordinary. Her solutions often came from everyday things, like people’s names. Although I don’t see many clues in the name Frank Telford, I must admit. But perhaps we should look at the most obvious, basic elements of this case.”

“Agatha Christie,” Bob said in mock disgust. “Molly, we’ve got to broaden your reading horizons. Let’s say I just bring over some James Lee Burke for you.”

Molly glowered at Bob but said nothing.

“Well, not that anyone asked me to, but I went online and searched for Frank Telford,” Andie said. “And he doesn’t have a Facebook site, go figure. I guess no one that old does.”

Molly raised an eyebrow.

“That was a great idea, Andie.” Lizzie meant it. “How about searching further on the Internet and see if he’s mentioned anywhere else?”

“Sure, I can do that.” Andie actually grinned.

“I wonder if we should go to Stoney Mills and ask around about Telford. See what we can dig up on him,” Lizzie suggested.

Bob intervened. “That’s not a good idea, young lady. There’s a killer out there, and if he gets wind that someone’s trying to track him down, who knows what he’ll do. This calls for someone with some professional experience.” He thought for a few seconds and then nodded. “Yeah, I could take a drive over there and do some checking. I’ll do it in the next day or two, if the fish aren’t biting.” He stood up and went over to take another cheese straw off the plate, turned back to his seat but changed his mind and grabbed the plate to pass it around.

Molly couldn’t hide her astonishment as she took one. Lizzie gave it a pass. He sat back down, looking pleased with himself.

Molly asked, “What can I do? It was my house, after all, and I’d like to get in on this.”

“You could go undercover,” Andie said with a wide grin. “You and Chief Bob could do it together.”

Bob took up the thread. “Now, that’s a great idea. Molly, you and I could pretend to be looking to buy us a house. It would be real natural to ask around about the town and the people before actually putting down our small nest egg.” He was almost smirking.

Molly drew herself up to her full sitting height. “Miss Molly Marple. It has a ring to it. All right, I’ll do it… but don’t you go getting any funny ideas, Bob Miller.”

T
he doorbell startled her. Lizzie turned on the light in her kitchen and checked the clock. She’d been raiding the fridge before heading upstairs to bed. She didn’t usually get guests calling at midnight. She peered through the peephole before opening the door. Awfully late for her landlord to be dropping by.

“Nathaniel. What are you doing here at this hour? Is anything wrong?”

“I hope I didn’t scare you, Lizzie. I’ve been waiting for you to get home.” He handed her a large manila envelope. “I saw that cyclist again tonight, and he left this in your mailbox. I wanted to bring it to you and make sure everything’s all right. You know, I saw him the other night and it looked like he had a big manila envelope that night, too. That’s real strange, him stopping by so late again.”

Lizzie ripped open the envelope and pulled out more chapters. “It’s the next part of the manuscript,” she said, to herself rather than her landlord. She flipped through the
pages quickly, then asked, “Would you like to come in for some tea, Nathaniel?” She knew he often watched old black-and-white movies until the early hours of the morning, and although she longed for bed, he might want the company.

He’d thrown a navy nylon shell over his beige knit turtleneck sweater, and had on brown khaki pants and a pair of worn moccasins. His wire-rimmed glasses were pushed up on his forehead, as was usual. Lizzie often wondered why he wore them. Sometimes he’d pull them down to read something, other times, not. The same went for looking into the distance. He didn’t own a car or drive, so no need there. His thinning white hair was straight and on the long side, although never unkempt. Perhaps the glasses acted as a headband, keeping the hair back and out of his eyes.