A Killer Read (14 page)

“No, thanks. It’s getting late, but I wanted to check on you. This is nothing distasteful or threatening, is it? Should I be calling the police the next time I see him?”

“I don’t think so. Someone is dropping off a manuscript, section by section. It’s an interesting story, but that seems to be all.”

“Well, I should get going then. You’ll be wanting your beauty sleep, not that you need it. The beauty part, that is.” He gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Lock up tight, now.”

“I will. Good night, Nathaniel.” She closed the door behind him and took his advice about the locks. But instead of heading to bed, she poured a glass of Shiraz and settled down with the latest pages. Another three chapters, she noted, wondering how long the manuscript would be and if it were finished.

Lizzie read on and turned over the final page, then looked at the clock. One
A. M.
Really time to head to bed. She rechecked the doors, turned off the last light and went upstairs. While brushing her teeth, she thought about what she’d just read.

Despite continued money problems, the family was a happy one. The daddy, Harlan Fowks, struggling with ways to bring in more cash, liked what he’d heard, and when the man from the neighboring county talked persuasively about the deal he was putting together to bring some housing and industrial development to town, Fowks was hooked. It was the promise of a healthy return on his money. After several more meetings with the man and another couple of serious investors, Fowks decided to take another mortgage on his house and sink all his funds, meager as they were, into the deal. His wife, Adele, when told after the fact, was enraged,
then scared about what would happen if the deal fell through and they lost everything. She had a young baby to worry about, after all.

Chapter six ended on that ominous note. Lizzie could almost predict where this was heading. It wasn’t an original story line, but the characters held her attention. She changed into cotton pajamas and crawled into bed, still thinking about the story. It had potential. And could develop in so many directions. It might even turn out to be a mystery. The character could rob a bank, to get more money. Or even worse.

She toyed with the idea of asking the book club to read it, to get a variety of takes on it. The cats joined her, Brie settling in on her left side while Edam took time for some kneading of the quilt before curling up on her legs. She must remember to cut their nails, she thought and then fell asleep.

S
he arrived at the Ashton Corners Elementary School about twenty minutes early and stopped by Sally-Jo’s classroom, catching her writing some math tables on the board.

“Oh, to be a student again,” Lizzie said. “I did so enjoy arithmetic first thing in the morning.”

Sally-Jo peered over her glasses at her. “I’m thinking there’s a ‘not’ in there.”

Lizzie laughed. “Totally. Even at this tender young grade. Anyway, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to tell you that Molly has planned a garden party this Sunday for the literacy students. It starts at one
P. M.
, but I told Molly I’d be over around eleven to help out. Does that work for you?”

Sally-Jo didn’t skip a beat. “Sure. No problem. Jacob and I are going to the Stoney Mills Fair on Saturday, but Sunday is free. What can I bring?”

“You’ll have to consult Molly on that. And what’s this about you and Jacob? Another date?”

Sally-Jo squared her shoulders. “Date number three, if anyone’s counting. But this time it’s all in the name of duty, Lizzie. We thought it couldn’t hurt for more of us to be asking the same questions in Stoney Mills.”

“That’s actually a great idea. By the way, I got another few chapters of the manuscript last night.”

“Wow… that’s so weird. And it reminds me, I’ve got the chapters you gave me right here. What was it you wanted to know?” She went over to the desk and searched through her tote.

“Mainly, what your take on it is. Do you think it could be a true story?”

“What makes you think that?”

“The writing style, for one thing.”

“Umm, it’s hard to say.” Sally-Jo handed over the earlier pages while she gave the question some thought. “It could very well be. I’m happy to read more of it, by the way.”

“That’s super. I want to read all the chapters together, then I’ll pass it along to you.” Lizzie glanced at her watch. “I’d better run. Good luck on Saturday, and I’ll see you at Molly’s on Sunday.” She gave a small wave and left.

Lizzie finished her meeting with a fourth-grade teacher just before two thirty. She’d been in meetings all day long and was keen to get outside for some exercise. She was due back for a staff meeting in an hour, which gave her just enough time for a brisk walk to LaBelle’s Bakery to stock up on some treats for that evening’s choir practice. Each of the four voice sections took on refreshments for a month, which meant her turn at helping out usually rolled around once a year. She and two others were providing the goodies tonight.

Her cell phone rang as she left the bakery, tantalizing smells emanating from the cloth shopping bag swinging from her hand.

She fumbled with the bag as she dug into her purse for the phone. After almost dumping the entire contents of the
purse on the ground, she managed to say, “Hello, Lizzie speaking.”

“Lizzie, it’s Mark. Do you have a few minutes? We need to talk.”

She maneuvered her arm so that she could glance at her watch, as she rounded the corner. “Ten minutes, that’s all I can spare. I have a staff meeting at school shortly.”

“Good. That should be all it takes. I’m parked in the school parking lot, and in fact, I have you in my line of sight.”

She looked up and tried a wave when she spotted him leaning against the police cruiser. He gave her a small wave in return and stuck his cell back in his pocket.

“I’d offer you a cinnamon pecan drop biscuit or a sugar cookie, but they’re for choir tonight,” she said as she reached him.

“That’s okay. I’m trying to keep off sweets.”

“Surely, not a weight problem?” she asked, with a smirk and an exaggerated once-over of his body.

He laughed. “Only if I continue with the sweets intake. I didn’t realize the unforeseen hazards of this job. Why, last week, I talked to three separate little old ladies in one afternoon and each of them pressed me into eating some of their home baking. It’s awfully hard to say no to a woman with gray hair and a plate of molasses cookies.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future. I’m sorry but I can only spare a few minutes. As I said, we have a school staff meeting, and I have some materials to finish in preparation for it.” They started walking toward her car.

“This won’t take long. I just thought you might know something about an older couple, who looked suspiciously similar to Bob Miller and Molly Mathews, who were poking around asking questions in Stoney Mills this morning.” Mark reached out to hold her bags while she unlocked the car.

Lizzie was pleased to hear that Bob and Molly had gotten
right to it but hesitant about sharing the group’s plans with Mark. “News travels fast.”

“Well, they asked a Realtor, who I happen to see on a regular basis out at the shooting range, about houses for sale and then about Frank Telford. Kevin had heard he’d been murdered here, so he called me. Now, I have a feeling you know all about this.”

“I haven’t spoken to either of them today, so I can’t really tell you anything.” Partly true. Maybe she should change the subject. “But I’m thankful you’re the one asking. I’d hate to be grilled by Officer Craig again. She doesn’t have much in the way of people skills, does she?”

“She doesn’t really need them in this job. Besides, it’s her first homicide. Mine, too, come to think of it. I thought it would be good training for her to get out there asking questions.”

“I just wish she could do her practicum elsewhere,” Lizzie said, placing the bag on the backseat and locking the car door again.

Mark laughed. “Now, I know you didn’t mean it this way, but I take that as an endorsement of her policing skills. It will take all of our skills combined to solve this rather than having to bring the state police in.”

Lizzie thought about that. “I do hope you’re able to solve it, Mark, but I also hope I’m not paid a visit by Officer Craig again. Besides, no one in the book club is a murderer, so if you concentrate your efforts elsewhere, you might just find the killer. I’m sorry, I have to get going now.”

“Fine. We’ll talk again.”

“Fine.” She marched off, trying not to think of either police officer.

L
izzie waved at Nathaniel Creely as she eased her 2004 Mazda 3 into the driveway. He had disappeared back into his house by the time she exited the car. Her first thoughts were of a much-needed shower followed by a quick meal, and then she would be off to her weekly choir practice. She hummed the soprano line of Rutter’s “Nativity Carol” as she kicked off her shoes and ran upstairs.

The front doorbell stopped her in the midst of shedding her blouse. Rebuttoning it, she retraced her steps to the door to find Nathaniel, with a plate of spiced figs in his hand.

“I thought you might have a few minutes to join me in an appetizer. I know it’s your choir night, but I suddenly thought about this fig dish this afternoon— Charlaine used to make them all the time— and I had a strong desire to taste them again. They complement a glass of white wine so nicely, you know.”

Lizzie smiled and opened the door wider.
There goes the shower.
“What a great idea, Nathaniel. I just happen to have
a bottle of Pinot Blanc in the fridge. You get settled in the living room, and I’ll get the glasses and wine.”

He must have had a lonely day, Lizzie thought as she pulled out a pewter tray and some wineglasses, and uncorked the Pinot Blanc. The thought of inviting him to join the book club flittered through her mind, but she knew he didn’t really enjoy reading. Now, a gardening club would be a different matter entirely. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of that but knew the answer. He might be lonely, but he was also shy. She racked her brain to think of someone, preferably female, she knew whom she might get to invite him on a gardening adventure. There was that matchmaking urge again. She’d best stow that one.

Nathaniel had set out some colorful cocktail napkins— white daisies on a blue and yellow background— he’d brought over and cleared a space in the center of the coffee table for the appetizer plate. Lizzie made a bit more space for the tray, then poured them each a glass of wine and bit into a fig covered in a spice mixture, still warm from the oven.

“These are delicious, Nathaniel. Your culinary skills never cease to amaze me. You put my own efforts to shame.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, Lizzie. My Charlaine was a very talented lady both in the kitchen and out. I sometimes can taste one of her tempting dishes in my mind and am spurred to re-create it. It never tastes quite the same, though.”

“Well, I love these. And if I don’t ask you for the recipe, perhaps you’ll make them again for me.”

He chuckled. “I’d be delighted, my dear. You know, your late-night delivery has been on my mind most of the day. Everything is all right, isn’t it?”

Lizzie paused as she leaned over for a second fig. Good question. “That’s sweet of you to be concerned, Nathaniel. Yes. I think so. It’s the second set of chapters of a manuscript. I’m just not sure who it’s from, maybe someone from the literacy program, but it’s odd that it’s being dropped off so late each time and there’s no name or even a note with it.”

Nathaniel finished his mouthful. “Well, you know, if there’s ever any problem you can always just give me a call. I’ll be over here in a shot, so to speak.”

Lizzie smiled. “Thanks. I do know that. This seems quite harmless. We did have something unsettling happen at our book club last week, though. A body was found in a car outside Molly Mathews’s house. The police think it was a murder.”