A Story to Kill (17 page)

“She must love you. I had to beg her to answer a few questions this afternoon.” Cat pressed the cold glass on her forehead to cool herself. She'd been right about one thing; she hadn't needed a jacket.

“You don't have the Howard touch.” He pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and behind her ear. He bent down close to whisper, “Women will do anything I ask.”

“Some, poor pathetic women, maybe. And even then, I'd doubt it.” She felt her body lean into his and she bolted upright. “Got to go write.”

She heard his laugh all the way up to the second floor. Pausing on the second floor landing she glanced down the hall.

The door to the sisters' room was wide open. Cat checked her watch. If she went right up to her office, she could get another two hours of writing in before they left for dinner. Or, if she went to check on her guests, Rose and Daisy could talk her ear off and eat up all her time. “One week a month,” she muttered as she headed to check out the sisters' room. “All I have to do is get through one week a month.”

Bolstered by her new mantra, she paused at the open doorway. Neither of the sisters were in their room. Their laptops sat on the little writing table she'd provided for each room. Cat turned to leave and put her hand on the door to shut it after her when she froze.

Turning back around, she counted the laptops again. There was Daisy's with a crown pasted on the front with scotch tape. And Rose's had been covered with a collage of couples in various stages of undress and playfulness. Next to the window was a third, a thin black Mac. The laptop she'd seen pulled out of a leather case when its owner had shown up to write with the group.

She'd found Tom Cook's laptop. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, dialing a number she knew by heart. “Uncle Pete? You need to come over here quickly.”

Chapter 17

The sisters were still nowhere to be found, but Uncle Pete had the laptop on the desk in the living room and had powered it up. “It's got password protection.”

Linda Cook crossed the room. “I know it.” She hit a few keystrokes and the screen opened up to a picture of the couple on a yacht in the middle of some deep blue ocean. “That picture was taken last year on our trip to Fiji. Tom loved our time on that boat.”

“Can you show us his latest manuscript?” Cat leaned closer. This computer could hold the secret to what really happened to Gloria. Or, as Linda surmised, it could just be Tom's last work. A story that would never be finished or read by the fans who adored his books.

Linda sat down in the desk chair and opened a few folders. After a few minutes, she shrugged. “Sorry it's taking so long. Tom liked to hide his work so I couldn't get in when he was drafting and influence the story. I only got to read when he said so.”

Uncle Pete and I watched as she clicked and double-clicked on several folders. Finally, she looked up at us and grinned. “Found it. He'd moved it from where I last read, but he used the same five folders, so it was easy to uncover.” She turned the laptop so that Cat and Uncle Pete could read the screen. “White Water Regrets.”

“That's what he titled the book?” Cat leaned closer, thinking about the missing Gloria. “Did you read it?”

Linda shrugged. “Just the first half. It wasn't like most of Tom's work, a coming of age theme rather than the thrillers he was known for. I'm not sure how well it would have been taken if he had finished the manuscript.”

“Hey, you can't be in that. It's mine.” Rose rushed into the living room and slammed down the screen, closing the laptop. She went to pick it up when Uncle Pete pulled her aside.

He sat her in a chair and stood in front of her. “What do you mean it's yours?”

“Tom gave it to me. It's mine.” Rose strained to see where the laptop was. “You don't understand. He wanted me to have it.”

“He didn't even know you. Why would he give you his laptop?” Linda put her hands on her hips. “I can't believe you've had it all this time, just down the hall from me.”

“You don't think this was the reason Mrs. Cook's room was trashed, do you?” Cat walked around the desk so she could see her uncle's face while he talked. The man might be able to lie, but not to her face.

He blew out a breath. “I can't see how they're related. Besides, Sara all but confessed to the vandalism and attacking Linda for one reason. She thought Linda was standing in the way of her happy-ever-after with her lover.”

“What's going on here?” Daisy came into the room, a cookie in her hand.

Rose tried to stand up, but Uncle Pete gently moved her back into her chair. “I think we should take this conversation down to the station. Do you mind?” He pointed to the laptop from the desk in front of Linda. “May I have this? I'll return this at the end of the investigation.”

Linda held her hand up. “Let me send a copy of the manuscript to my email account. I'd like to read what my husband was working on.” With a few keystrokes, she finished and closed the laptop, handing it to Uncle Pete.

“Thank you.” He turned toward Rose and held out a hand. “Ready to go?”

“I suppose if I say no, you'll just cuff me and take me anyway.” Rose shrugged. “I have nothing to hide, so I'll go willingly.”

She stood and walked with Uncle Pete toward the door. Daisy followed along. “I can't believe you're in trouble again. I'm always bailing you out for something. You need to start acting your age.”

“I didn't do anything.” Rose mumbled again, but Daisy's response was muffled by the house walls.

When Cat turned back toward Linda, she'd been reading on her phone. She looked up when she noticed Cat staring. “You think Tom's story holds the answers to why he was killed, right?”

Cat ignored the question and asked one of her own. “Why were you with Dean Vargas this morning?”

“I knew that was you hiding behind the tree.” Linda closed the laptop again. “Larry knows more than he's saying about what happened to Tom. I tried to sweet talk the information out of him, but he kept changing the subject. That man can talk about nothing forever.”

“You think Dean Vargas killed Tom?” Cat watched the other woman's face as she responded.

“No way. Larry is a pain in the butt, but he's too docile to actually do anything to anyone.” But something about her tone made Cat wonder if Linda really believed her words.

Linda stood. “I'm heading upstairs to spend some time with what's left of my husband. If I come across a name written in blood, I'll let you know.”

Cat glanced around the empty room and then checked her watch again. If she could focus after all this, she might just have time to finish her chapter.

* * *

An hour later, she saved her manuscript and turned off the computer. The story wasn't flowing. Writing sessions like this made every sentence feel like it was squeezed from a stone. She disappeared into her room. Time for a long hot bath and maybe an hour of reading before she had to get ready for the dinner.

Returning to her private suite, Cat turned the water on in the bath, pouring in a couple capfuls of her favorite bubble bath. Then she went back into her room, and after undressing grabbed the mystery she'd been reading. She loved the way the amateur sleuth in the series had a few quirks. It made her more human in her eyes. Besides, the girl was funny. Settling in the bathtub, she put a rolled up towel behind her head and closed her eyes. This retreat had been a total disaster. The only writer who seemed to be progressing on his book was the guy she'd thought was a stalker at the beginning of the week.

Hopefully, Uncle Pete would finish his interview with Rose and the two sisters could come to the dinner and have at least a little relaxation time. Rose had worshiped Tom Cook. She couldn't have killed him, any more than she could have killed anyone. Cat shook the thought away like it was a summer fly buzzing around her head. She opened the book, moved her book mark, and settled in to read more about the little Californian tourist town.

A loud rapping sounded at her bedroom door. “Cat? Are you in there?”

Cat put the book down and stood, regretfully letting the warm water flow off her body. Wrapping herself in a large sheet towel, she rushed to the door. “Daisy? What's wrong?”

The woman burst into the room and sat on Cat's bed. “It's awful. I can't believe this is happening to Rose. I feel sick when I think about her in that dank holding cell. You really have to talk to your uncle.”

Cat sat next to her and adjusted her towel a little closer. “What's going on? Is the interview over?”

“They came and searched our room while we were down at the station.” Daisy put her hand over her heart. “I swear to God, it isn't mine or Rose's.”

“Slow down. So the cops came and searched your room and found what?” Cat wasn't following the woman's frantic story. She couldn't blame Uncle Pete, but to accuse Rose of murder just because she had possession of Tom's laptop? That was crazy talk.

Daisy took two long breaths, then licked her lips. “Sorry, I'm a little flustered.” She took another breath, then answered Cat's question. “I came back with the officer to make sure they didn't dig through our underwear. And when he opened Rose's suitcase, there was a large trophy wrapped in one of your lovely soft towels. I told that young man that someone must have planted it, but he didn't look like he believed me.”

“The Covington English Cup?” Cat held up her hand. “Don't answer that. I don't want to know. Poor Rose, she must be beside herself.”

Daisy's laugh was low and short. “She's fine. My sister asked for a notebook and a pen to take notes about the station and what it's like to be interrogated. She's acting more like she's on a ride-along rather than being questioned for murder. I only convinced her to hire a lawyer because I told her she needed to experience the whole package.”

“Not the type of experience I had in mind for my guests when I designed the retreat.” Cat thought about the way Tom had looked when she found his body. Could Rose have swung the cup that high to actually land the killing shot? And was she strong enough? From what she could see, Rose was more likely to walk for exercise than pump iron. “Do you still want to go to the retreat dinner tonight? Right now it's you, Billy, and me. I thought I'd invite Linda Cook too since the restaurant is expecting six.”

“I'm hoping Rose will be able to attend, but you should invite that young man who's always working around the house as well. He's very charming and tells the most interesting stories. I've been writing down everything he says. I'm trying to work on my dialogue.” Daisy blushed. “I know it's eavesdropping, but I don't get around men his age much anymore.”

Cat smiled. The woman was a true writer, a word magpie, stealing from what she heard to make her story more believable.

“Seth's driving us to the restaurant. So you'll get plenty of time to chat.” Cat wondered how he'd feel about being Daisy's hero in development.

The older woman stood. “Thanks for talking me down. I can't believe what a roller coaster of a trip this has been. I'm going to go down to the station one last time and see if they are holding Rose or not.” Her thin lips curved into a smile. “At least it's not boring.”

As Cat watched the woman walk out of the room she nodded to herself. That was one thing she could agree with Daisy on, the week hadn't been the least bit boring. Honestly, she could do with a little boring in her life right now.

Cat returned to the bathroom, but her water had gone cold. Instead of refilling and trying again, she pulled the stopper to drain the tub and returned to lie on her bed. Looking around, she realized she'd left her book in the bathroom. Michael's journal sat near the bed. Sighing, she opened it and started reading, trying to find out what her ex-husband had been thinking, but not wanting to really know.

After slipping a piece of paper to keep her place, Cat set the journal down and stared at the worn leather. This was the Michael she'd fallen in love with. The man who she'd promised her life to. A man who had promised her trips to Paris and Greece after they'd saved up for a few years. Cat had believed her new husband had just been dreaming. What had happened to cause Michael to fall out of love with her?

There was a brief knock before the door opened to reveal Shauna. Cat wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. Shauna was in a little black dress that hugged her curves and showed off her red hair she wore loose over her shoulders. “I changed my mind about going. We're gathering everyone downstairs in five minutes.” She tilted her head and studied Cat. “You're not even dressed?”

Cat jumped off the bed and ran to her closet. “I'll be ready before you get everyone in the car.”

“We don't have to do this, you know.” Shauna followed her to the closet and put a hand on Cat's shoulder, turning her. “No one would think less of you. It's been a crazy week.”

Cat closed her eyes and then shook her head. When she looked at Shauna again, she felt even stronger. “Nope. It's in the plan, we're going to do it. Daisy and Rose—well, Daisy—deserves to get the full retreat experience. I take it Rose hasn't come back from the station?”

Shauna shook her head. “I talked to Pete and he said he was keeping her for a while, mostly because he doesn't have any other prospects. And the DA wants to charge her. Can you believe it?”

“You don't think Rose could have just snapped, do you?” Cat took a dress out of her closet and laid it on her bed.

“I don't, and you don't either. Rose needs at least a few of us in her corner. Now get ready.” She walked over to the open doorway and left the room.

Cat knew having a celebration dinner was probably not in the best of taste, but she wanted to start a tradition for the rest of the retreats. And who knew what might happen next month? Even with Tom's death, Sara's arrest, and now Rose being held for questioning, there had to be something for the group to celebrate. Even if it was only living through the week.

She slipped on the red fit and flare dress with a keyhole neckline, adding dressy sandals. Since the dress was sleeveless, she put on a black crocheted jacket to give her some cover if the night turned cold. Running a brush through her hair, she put on makeup and, as promised, made it downstairs before the last guest. The group was still waiting on Linda when Cat arrived.