Law and Author (12 page)

She went back to the box she'd been sorting and kept at her task until the three returned an hour later.

“Did you have any problems?” Lizzie asked.

Darla answered. “Nope. Where should we put these boxes? Wade got the dolly and is bringing in some of the heavier ones.”

Lizzie pointed out where the girls should leave their load, then she looked out into the hall for Wade. Darla and Andie were chatting away as they opened the boxes. Lizzie went out to look for Wade. She opened the back door to the parking lot and pulled back before stepping outside. Wade stood hunched over, deep in discussion with a shorter male over at the corner of the building. When the second guy turned slightly, Lizzie recognized him. The same guy who had been issued a trespass notice the night of the literacy class last week. He'd caused quite a commotion. Eddie Riser. That was his name. Now why was Wade talking so intently to him?

I couldn't begin to guess.

SPEAKING FROM AMONG THE BONES—
ALAN BRADLEY

“W
hy would Wade Morris be talking to that guy?” Lizzie asked Mark later that evening when he called.

“Maybe just asking about the town or maybe he was trying to buy some drugs. I'll have the guys keep an eye on the parking lot if Eddie Riser is back to ignoring trespass notices. That's been one of Riser's favorite haunts in the past.”

“Why don't you just arrest him?”

“We're trying to find his boss. Arresting Riser would just be a minor setback for him.”

“I wouldn't put it past Wade to be buying drugs.”

“You don't like him either, do you?”

“No and for the same reason as my feelings about Darla. I think he's trying to take advantage of Bob and Molly.”

“But he was there working today, earning his keep?”

“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. “He did go and pick up the
boxes of donations and then schlep them inside. Mind you, they arrived late and left much earlier than the other volunteers.”

“Well, you could mention it to Molly. She's paying them after all.”

“No I can't. It wouldn't do any good, anyway. She's sure this will ensure they stay around awhile and don't keep borrowing from Bob. She's probably right about that. Do you have any more news about the murder?”

“Nothing that I'm about to share. And, I'm glad to see you're keeping your investigative instincts under control.”

Lizzie flashed briefly on the fact that Jacob had just called with word from his lawyer friend about Rafe Shannon. She knew Mark already was aware of the fact that Shannon had been recently released from prison after serving three years for extortion. And, that the Lucky Roller Casino had him on the payroll as a bouncer. But none of that explained what he was doing in Ashton Corners.

“Is Darla still a suspect?”

“She's involved in some way but I don't think she killed him. I know she's hiding something, though. I thought Bob might get her to confide in him but so far that hasn't worked.”

“She's friendliest with Stephanie. Maybe we could ask her to do some probing.”

“
We
will not. I don't like the idea of involving a citizen in a police investigation, as you may be aware. Besides, my investigation is proceeding as it should. Amber Craig is on a visit to be with her family in Atlanta. She plans to look into Rafe Shannon's dealings while she's there, of course.”

“Some holiday.”

“It was her idea.”

“I don't doubt it, because you'd have her on desk duty otherwise, wouldn't you? I know all about this notion of not being involved when you're connected to the victim. Or suspect,”
she added, thinking back to her own recent dance with the police, and Mark's removing himself from questioning her.

Mark cleared his throat, then asked, “Now, how about we talk about something else for a change, like when can we get together?”

“That's entirely up to you. It's your murder investigation that's intruding on our plans. Which is why I thought you'd like a little help.”

Mark chortled. “Nice try, Lizzie. I think I might just be able to tear myself away for a cup of coffee later.”

“I'm holding you to that.”

*   *   *

L
izzie checked her email before going to bed. A couple of the digests she belonged to had come in and she scanned the topic headings, choosing the items of interest, rather than reading the entire digests. She was just about to close down the computer for the evening when a chat message pinged. She checked. It was from Sally-Jo.

I've been here 12 hours and have already tried on three dresses. All DREADFUL!!! My mama is driving me nuts. Missing the gang already. I'd rather be talking about solving a murder than planning a wedding. How bad is that???

Lizzie shook her head and messaged back.

Nothing new in murder department. Hope dress department does better tomorrow. We miss you, too. Look on the bright side. Once you get through all this you'll be a happily married woman.

Hah. If I live that long. Over and out. Xoxo

Lizzie looked at the clock. After ten already and no sign of Mark. He must have headed home instead. She shoved the feeling of disappointment aside and grabbed a glass of water to take upstairs. The phone rang as she was about to start up the stairs.
Mark!

She checked the call display as she answered. Teensy. Awfully late for her to be calling.

“Hey Lizzie, I know it's late and I do apologize, but can I stop by tomorrow morning? I'd like you to take a look at some chapters one of my students in my creative writing class has turned in.”

“Uh, sure. Why do you want me to read it?”

“I value your opinion, that's why. I do have some concerns, though. Look, it might be nothing but I just want to see what you think.”

“Uh, nice and mysterious Teensy.”

“Sometimes.”

“Why don't you come over around ten and I'll have the coffee ready?”

“Lovely. And I'll bake up a fresh batch of my delicious lemon cranberry scones in the morning to bring over, shall I?”

“Uh-oh. More calories.”

“As if you have to worry, sugar. Nighty-night, now.”

Lizzie wondered what that was about but she was happy Teensy had been deflected from heading to Atlanta to confront Darla's mama. She'd just reached the top of the stairs when the phone rang again. Mark this time.

“I'm sorry, babe, but I just woke up. I took Patchett for a walk when I got home and then sat down to read the paper and well, look at the time.”

“Don't worry about it. I was just heading to bed myself.”

“Maybe I should come over in that case.”

“And fall promptly back to sleep? I think not. Why don't
you rest up and we'll continue this conversation another night?” she suggested playfully.

“I'm on it.”

*   *   *

L
izzie flipped through the four chapters that Teensy had just handed her. “What are you hoping I'll find or not find, Teensy?”

“I don't want to say. Why don't you take a few minutes and read it over. It won't take long. Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Lizzie shrugged. She'd been planning to do some housework this morning but she always took advantage of a reason not to. She topped up both their coffees and carried her mug and the papers into the living room, with Teensy trailing after her. She sat in one of the taupe wicker chairs and watched while Teensy made herself comfortable on the green-striped love seat in front of the window. Teensy lifted her mug toward Lizzie, as if saluting her or daring her, and took a bite of a scone, then a long drink of coffee. Lizzie started to read.

Teensy had been right. It was a fast read. When she'd finished, Lizzie tidied up the papers and sat back to look at Teensy. “What do you want to know?”

“Where do you think this story is heading?”

“An abusive husband. A woman who finally, after years of being under his thumb has started to think of a life for herself. Maybe she's going to eventually leave him?”

“Fannie, that's the writer, Fannie Hewitt, told me it was going to be a murder mystery. So who's your best bet to be the victim?”

“It looks like it's the wife's story, so it won't be her. My money is on the husband, at the moment anyway.”

“Uh-huh. That's exactly what I thought. And who do you think is the best candidate for the murderer?”

“Well, the way it stands now, either the wife or someone she hires to do the job, or someone, maybe in her family, who is sick and tired of what's going on and decides to remedy it. What's this all about, Teensy?”

“You think like a writer, Lizzie. All those possibilities. You should try your hand at it someday.”

“Probably not but thanks for the suggestion. Now, what's gotten you so fired up?”

“She's a good writer, don't you think?”

Lizzie nodded and tried not to show the fact that she was getting tired of the twenty questions game.

“But she's a first-time writer and she's so into the character's head, I think that's because it's her own head. I think she might be writing her own story and she's planning to kill her husband.”

“That's quite a leap, Teensy. Do you know if she's being abused at home?”

“She does have the odd bruise, now that I think back on it. And that one really hot day we had last month? Remember, we all said the weather gods were teasing us? Well, she actually wore a turtleneck to class that day.”

“You know, you could be reading things into her behavior now that you've read this story.”

Teensy pushed herself off the love seat and started pacing around the small room. “I know. I've told myself that. But it's what you might call a gut instinct, a writer's instinct, and it's telling me that something else is happening here.”

“A writer's instinct.” Lizzie hid her smile. “If you were writing the story, what would happen next?”

“Exactly what is happening. Fannie would be going to the library to research methods of murder.”

“How do you know that's what's happening?”

“I've seen it with my own eyes. I ran into her in the library
last week and I asked what she was doing. She said she was doing research for her book. She was in the medical section, Lizzie. You know, poisons and such.”

Lizzie stopped to think about it. She was sure Teensy was raising the alarm bells where none were needed. It would be just like her to let her imagination run away with her.

“Well she wouldn't be so dumb as to write the actual story of a murder she's about to commit, would she? You'd think someone, like the police, would clue in and there's the evidence of their killer.”

“We haven't read the end of the story yet. She may have figured a way out of being caught.”

Lizzie leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I understand what you're saying and why you're saying it, but I really do think you may be reacting a bit too soon or too drastically.”

“Would you meet with her?”

“What?”

“I'll set you up to have a coffee with her and just get to know her a bit. See what vibes you get from her.”

“Don't you think that would look strange?”

“Well, maybe,” she hedged. “I know, I'll invite her for coffee, say it's to talk about her manuscript and then you just stop on by. That would work, don't you think?”

“It would but I'm not sure to what avail. Don't you think you're maybe relying a bit too much on your instinct?”

Teensy sat down again, her back ramrod straight. “As you are with your distrust of Darla?”

“Ouch.” Lizzie managed a small smile. “I guess you're right about that. But what if Fannie is writing this story as a cathartic relief? She deals with it all on paper and then can move on. Maybe she'll even leave the guy, if this is a
true story. Murder is really an extreme reaction and I'm not entirely convinced that it's a reasonable option for most people.”

“You can say that with so many people being murdered around here in the last few years?”

“Well, there is that.”

“Look, I'm just saying, come by the house, talk with her awhile. Just get a feel for the woman. All right?”

Lizzie sighed. “Sure. Fine. You can let me know when it's arranged.”

“Tomorrow at three.”

“What? You were awfully sure of yourself.”

“Of course I am, sugar. The class ends at two thirty and I invited her over right after, so we can talk about her book. She was very eager to accept.” Teensy pulled her cell phone out of her pocket as she stood. She checked the screen. “I'd better get going. I have a dentist appointment in half an hour. Not my favorite thing. Thanks for the coffee, sugar.”

“Well, thanks for bringing those delicious scones.”

Teensy linked her arm through Lizzie's as they walked to the door. “My pleasure, for sure. You know, maybe you should think about this murder at Molly's as a novel. Write your own story for it and see if it helps figure out what happened. Anyway, see you tomorrow.”

She squeezed Lizzie's arm and left. Lizzie thought about the suggestion as she tidied up. If the murder of Rafe Shannon were a novel, she'd need to know what he was doing in Ashton Corners. That had to be part of the reason, at the very least, as to why he was killed. She had been planning to stop by the community center and check on how the sorting of the books was progressing. She'd include a stop at the police station, on the way.

*   *   *

M
ark put the papers he was thumbing through into a neat pile on the center of his desk and gave Lizzie his full attention. “Do you have some new evidence that I should be aware of? Is that why you're back in here with more questions about Rafe Shannon?”