Murder in the Paperback Parlor (23 page)

She had one arrow. One chance to stop Taylor Birch. If Taylor left Storyton Hall with Lily Jamison as her hostage, there was no telling what would happen. Jane wouldn't stand
for that. She needed to rescue Lily and ensure that Taylor was brought to justice.

With the bowstring grazing her right cheek and her left arm stretched straight, Jane stepped out from behind the screen and quickly took in the scene.

Sheriff Evans stood off to her right, his hands raised in surrender. Taylor was nearly at the door. She held a steak knife against the side of Lily's neck, and a thin trickle of blood ran down from a wound beneath Lily's ear. Lily's eyes were glassy with terror.

Jane quieted her mind. She focused her energy on the bow in her left hand and the nocked arrow in her right. She inhaled once, fixing her gaze on her target. All sound faded. She didn't hear Taylor speak or notice Sheriff Evans motioning at her. She exhaled through parted lips and let the arrow fly.

Time crawled. The seconds stretched out like yarn on a loom, and the arrow seemed to be traveling underwater. Suddenly, its point punctured the soft flesh just above Taylor's armpit. She jerked and dropped the knife. Lily broke free from Taylor's grasp, grabbed the knife, and ducked behind the closest sofa.

Jane lowered the bow and looked at Sheriff Evans. He'd scooped his gun off the floor and was pointing it at Taylor.

As for Taylor, she couldn't stop staring at the arrow protruding from her shoulder. Finally, she groaned like a wounded animal and slid to the floor, landing on her rear with a thud.

While the sheriff called for backup, Jane rushed to where Lily was huddled.

Jane grabbed a wad of tissues from the box on a nearby table and gently wiped the blood off Lily's neck. Thankfully, it was a shallow cut and would heal cleanly.

“Are you all right?” Jane asked softly.

Lily nodded. Her wan face was starting to regain some color.

“You were incredible,” Jane said.

“Me?” Lily shook her head in disbelief. “
You
were incredible. You were just like Venus Dares in
The Bold Baron
. There's a scene where she shoots the baron's uncle with an
arrow because he's about to push a scullery maid off the roof.” Lily managed a wobbly smile. “I never met a heroine like the ones I encounter in Heartfire novels. Until now. You did it, Jane. You saved the day.”

“
We
saved the day,” Jane said. She stood up and offered Lily her hand.

After Lily rose unsteadily to her feet, she and Jane embraced. They wept and laughed, relieved that the ordeal was over. And then they hugged once more, clinging to each other like long lost friends.

“I don't know about you, ladies, but I found this book club meeting particularly cathartic,” Mabel said.

“I agree.” Anna sighed in contentment. “I never thought these words would pass my lips, but I can't eat another bite of chocolate.”

The other Cover Girls laughed.

“I'm with you, sister.” Phoebe tapped a nail against her martini glass. “Our menu was pretty decadent. Cocktails mixed with Godiva liqueur, fresh greens with chocolate-balsamic vinaigrette, and pork medallions with a dark-chocolate chipotle sauce. And then, we topped it all off with two-bite chocolate cream pies and chocolate mousse cups. It's a good thing it's sweater season.”

Jane, who'd gone into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker, returned to the living room and sank down on the sofa. “I'm glad you had us read
Chocolat
, Betty. I don't think I could have handled anything too heavy after Romancing the Reader.”

“This has certainly been the most exciting February on record,” Mrs. Pratt said. “And you're a media sensation, Jane. I've read a dozen accounts comparing you to Katniss Everdeen.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Unlike the Hunger Games heroine, my survival doesn't depend on a bow and arrow.”

“Archery has become really popular thanks to those novels. Maybe I should take it up. Do you think they make purple arm guards?” Violet twirled the end of her lavender scarf and then nudged Mabel in the side. “You could design a line of feminine archery gear.”

Mabel groaned. “Honey, I am officially on vacation. I have stitched, hemmed, trimmed, and basted until my fingers burned. This gal is
tired
.” She winked at Jane. “But my piggy bank is stuffed.”

Eloise gave Jane's hand a squeeze. “Can you take a page from Mabel's notebook and hang a closed sign on your office door for a few days? Taylor's been transferred to a women's correctional facility and the news vans have finally left. Even the villagers are starting to talk about other things. You should take time to recover.”

The rest of the women murmured in agreement.

“We can't begin to understand what it's like to strive for normalcy after two murders,” Anna said. “But if you want to trade places for a day or two, let me know. Ever since Randall got his copy of
Journal of Infectious Diseases
, he's been pouncing on any customer over fifty. He corners these hapless individuals in the vitamin aisle in order to educate them on the signs and symptoms of whatever new strain of virus is attacking the elderly.”

“I hardly consider fifty to be
elderly
,” Betty said, sounding affronted.

Anna threw her hands in the air. “I tried to tell him that he was insulting people, but Randall is incapable of listening. One can't hold a conversation with the man. Whenever I speak, he talks right over me.”

“I like a man who knows when to be quiet,” Violet said. She turned to Mrs. Pratt. “Does Gavin hang on your every word?”

Mrs. Pratt looked unhappy. “He does, but I wish he wouldn't. I'm feeling a bit . . . suffocated.”

Jane was stunned. “When we discuss the romantic scenes in our book club novels, you always say how lovely it would be
to have a man wine and dine you, give you flowers, and treat you like a queen. Isn't that exactly what Gavin's been doing?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Pratt said. “He's a darling man, and I'm very fond of him. However, he's asked me to move to Florida with him.”

The Cover Girls stared at her in collective astonishment.

“Did he propose?” Eloise asked breathlessly.

“He might have if I hadn't told him that I wouldn't leave Storyton. Not now. Not ever.” Mrs. Pratt's eyes grew moist. “This is my home. I can't see myself anywhere else.” She sniffled. “I don't want Gavin to stay for my sake either. If I loved him, it would be different. I enjoy his company very much, but is what I feel love? I'm not certain.”

Phoebe glanced around at her friends. “When can a person ever be sure? I think it takes a long time before we really know. Then again, I don't believe in love at first sight.”

Eloise blushed prettily. “I do. Not in the way it's depicted in novels, but I believe that a moment occurs when a person shows you a glimpse of their true self, and in that moment, you can fall in love with them.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience?” Mabel wanted to know.

Before Eloise could reply, Mrs. Pratt said, “Too many relationships start off like a romance novel and end up like a horror story. Take a young coed named Rosie Yates, for example. From what I read in the papers, she was smitten with Nigel Poindexter the second she entered his classroom. Her infatuation wore off over time and she wanted him out of her life, but she couldn't be Rosamund York without him.”

“Hers was a gilded cage,” Betty said. “And Nigel didn't fare much better. He invested his future partnering with a much younger woman and began to live above his means. He was as naïve as Rosie. She grew to resent him and he grew to envy her. Their relationship was bound to implode sooner or later.”

Phoebe twisted a corkscrew curl around her finger. “And along comes Taylor Birch, the catalyst. Seeing a chance to advance her career, she decided to exploit their situation. She'll spend years behind bars because of that decision.”

“We can't mention exploitation without including Georgia Dupree,” Anna said. “I'd wager a year's supply of antibacterial lotion that she gets a book deal out of this.”

Jane smiled at Anna. “Not with Heartfire. After Georgia pled guilty to several criminal charges, she tried to convince Lily Jamison that she was still worthy of continuing the Venus Dares novels, but Lily turned her down flat.”

“No matter who writes them, the books will never be as good as Nigel's.” Mrs. Pratt raised her face skyward and sighed forlornly. “I can't believe I was duped. All these years and I never guessed that a
man
was writing some of my favorite Regency romance novels.”

Mabel slung an arm around Mrs. Pratt's shoulders. “People can surprise us, can't they?”

“Maria Stone certainly did.” Jane beckoned for her friends to follow her into the kitchen where the coffeemaker had finished gurgling. After pouring coffee into an assortment of book-themed mugs, she continued her narrative. “When the sheriff brought Maria back to Storyton Hall, she was hissing like a feral cat. She couldn't wait to tell the press how she'd been mistreated. Nothing I said had any effect on her. Eventually, I gave her up as a lost cause, but Aunt Octavia didn't.”

Eloise grinned expectantly. “Did she give that girl a tongue lashing?”

Jane shook her head. “I think Ms. Stone has experienced more than her fair share of those. On the other hand, she's received little in the way of kindness or respect. Sensing this, Aunt Octavia invited Maria to her apartment for tea. She sat across from that angry young woman and listened to her talk. For
three
hours.”

“What did they talk about?” Anna asked while dabbing at her eyes with a paper towel.

“I don't know,” Jane said. “All I can say is that Maria left Storyton Hall with a quiet confidence she hadn't possessed before. Not only has Aunt Octavia pledged to be Maria's pen pal, but she's also the newest member of the Matildas.”

“Maria's feminist group?” Eloise giggled. “Look out, world! Aunt Octavia's taken up a cause. Maybe Storyton Hall
will be the setting for an activist conference in the near future.”

Jane groaned. “It'll be a long time before I'm ready to host
any
special events. Though I've already had several requests . . .”

“From which groups?” Mrs. Pratt asked.

“The most memorable was from The Medieval Herbalists.”

Mabel took a sip of coffee. “They sound harmless enough.”

“That's what I thought about the romance writers and fans,” Jane muttered. “Still, we might have something very unique to offer these nature-lovers.” She put her coffee mug down and smiled at her friends. “I want to show you something amazing. We'll have to walk to Lachlan's cottage to see it, so bundle up.”

The Cover Girls didn't hesitate. They pulled on coats and gloves, wrapped scarves around their necks, and donned knit hats.

On the way to Lachlan's, Jane told them about the mysterious deliveries of the frozen chicks.

Eloise looked concerned. “Please tell me that he's not a psycho.”

Instead of answering, Jane hooked her arm through her friend's and walked even more briskly to Lachlan's little cottage.

One of Lachlan's curtains twitched and a moment later, he was standing in the doorway, a shy smile on his face. His eyes met Eloise's and his smile grew brighter. Then, he turned to Jane. “It's best if we don't make too much noise.”

As soon as all the Cover Girls were inside Lachlan's, Jane put her fingers to her lips. “We need to be quiet. We don't want to startle Lachlan's ward.”

Eloise gave Lachlan a puzzled glance, but he disappeared into his bedroom without a word and returned a moment later wearing a leather glove on his right arm. The glove reached to his elbow and was clearly necessary, for the bird perched on Lachlan's forearm gripped the thick leather with dagger-sharp talons.

The Cover Girls were struck dumb with awe.

“This is a saker falcon,” Lachlan said. “A drug dealer with a penchant for collecting exotic animals purchased her. Unfortunately, she was injured during a shootout between the dealer and the DEA.”

Eloise gaped at Lachlan. “How did you end up with her?”

A flicker of sorrow passed over Lachlan's face. “My older brother was a DEA agent. I was on a ride-along with him when he got the call to apprehend this dealer. I'll skip the raid details. All I can say is that bullets flew and one of them struck this falcon's wing. She was going to be euthanized, so I took her. I have some experience with falcons because I use to volunteer at a raptor rescue facility, but I wasn't sure how Ms. Steward would feel about a bird of prey living in my cottage, so I kept her hidden.”

“And you feed her frozen chicks?” Phoebe shuddered in revulsion.

“Until she can hunt on her own, yes.” Lachlan was completely animated. “She's doing really well. I've taken her out for some short flights and I think she'll be bringing down squirrels and small rodents come springtime.”

Eloise took a tentative step forward. “She's beautiful. May I touch her?”

Lachlan nodded in approval. He held his arm out and, using his other hand, pointed at the back of the falcon's neck. “She's used to having her feathers stroked here.”

Watching Lachlan and Eloise, Jane felt the cold sting of jealousy. Lachlan's secret was hardly nefarious. It was nothing like Edwin's. In fact, Jane completely understood Lachlan's desire to save the magnificent raptor. In order to explain why he needed frozen chicks, Lachlan had introduced Jane to the saker falcon. And when he'd seen how positively she'd reacted to the bird, he proposed they start a falconry program at Storyton Hall.

“The man who built this house was a world-class falconer,” Jane had told Lachlan. “Show me a detailed budget and I'll consider the idea.”

Lachlan had immediately handed her a thin stack of paper. “Done. Also, there's a Harris's hawk for sale in North Carolina.
If we can get our licenses and permits approved in time, I think he'd made a great addition to our fledgling program.”

Jane grinned at the pun and promised to look over the proposal that evening.

Now, Lachlan was murmuring something to Eloise and she was bobbing her head up and down in assent.

“We go out pretty early. Wear plenty of layers.”

Eloise smiled. “I will. See you then.”

The Cover Girls wished Lachlan and his falcon good night and then headed back to Jane's house. The women only popped in long enough to collect their handbags, dishes, and copies of
Chocolat
. It was late and they were all ready to go home, change into flannel pajamas, and nestle under warm blankets and quilts.

As was her custom, Eloise lingered behind. She and Jane stood side-by-side at the kitchen sink, washing and drying the martini glasses in companionable silence.

“It sounds like you and Lachlan have a date,” Jane said when they were halfway done.

Eloise's smile was hesitant. “Is that okay? I don't want to create an awkward situation, seeing as he works for you.”

“The only thing I care about is your happiness, Eloise. You and Lachlan obviously like each other and there's no reason why you shouldn't date.” Jane raised a warning finger. “But if he hurts you, he'll be bunking in the mew with his falcon.”

Eloise laughed. “Listen to you with your ‘bunking in the mew.' How many falconry books have you read since confronting him about his creepy deliveries?”

“Three.” Jane handed Eloise the last glass. “It's been a pleasant diversion. I went to the meadow the other evening to watch the bird exercise, and her short flight lifted my spirits. I feel like I've been shot through the wing too. I know that sounds melodramatic, but with all that occurred during the Romancing the Reader week, I feel . . . wounded.”

Eloise shot Jane a sideways look. “It wasn't just the murders, wasn't? Something, or
someone
, added to your pain. Was it Edwin?”

Jane released a pent-up sigh. “I didn't know how to raise
the subject with you, Eloise. You're my best friend and Edwin's your brother, so I kept it to myself.”

Tossing the dish towel aside, Eloise turned to Jane. “First of all, you and I are more like sisters than friends. Secondly, I know my brother. He has his good points. He's loyal, generous, and brilliant, but he's not an easy man to be around. He's distrustful, moody, and secretive. I could tell that he had feelings for you, and I neither encouraged nor discouraged him. So if you two aren't getting along, you might be relieved to hear that he's left the country.” She shrugged. “He's off to Damascus or Syria or someplace.”