Read and Buried (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-nine

Truth obliged her to acknowledge some small share in the action . . .

SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
—JANE AUSTEN

L
izzie felt oddly contented as they drove to the police station. It was nice not to
have a police escort but rather to be sitting beside one. The main one. She also loved
driving through town on a clear night at this time of year. The Christmas lights twinkled
from the store windows, maintaining the totally white lights theme agreed upon by
the downtown business association.

The city had gone all out, decorating the massive fifty-foot fir tree in the town
square in a dazzling display of colors—being the only ones allowed to deviate from
the theme—while white lights were strung along the band gazebo. The Ashton Corners
police station had even decked itself out in white lights strung along the roofline.

“Nice,” Lizzie said, nodding at the lights. “I hope you didn’t have to climb up there
and attach them.”

Mark laughed. “Nope. It’s a town building. Town responsibility. Now, you haven’t seen
my lights at home yet. We’re about overdue for a dinner there and I’m curious what
you’ll think of them.”

“Dinner sounds great. And you’ve aroused my curiosity about the lights.”

“That’s not all I’m hoping to arouse,” Mark said softly, as he exited his Jeep.

Lizzie grinned and slid out her side. He grabbed her hand and held it until they entered
through the side door. A uniformed officer sat behind the main desk, concentrating
on his computer screen. He snapped to attention when he saw it was the chief who’d
entered.

“Still quiet, Henson?” Mark asked.

“Yes, sir. I’m just trying to input some of those old reports, sir.”

“Great,” Mark answered as he steered Lizzie to his office. “We’re trying to get totally
computerized but there are a lot of the old cases that are still sitting in boxes
in the back room. Anyone with the time is encouraged to dig in and start entering
the data.”

“I guess it’s all confidential stuff or else you could probably get some volunteers
in to help,” Lizzie said.

“Are you offering?”

Lizzie gulped. “Hadn’t planned on it. Just suggesting.”

“Well, I try to get some of the part-timers to do it but I know some of them feel
it’s a waste of their already short hours here, so we all take a turn.”

“Hmm. Where’s Derek’s computer?” Lizzie asked, glancing around the office.

Mark pointed to a table in the left corner, just over from the door. He walked over
and switched it on, removing his coat while it booted up. Lizzie added her jacket
to the coatrack on the other side of the doorway.

“Okay. I’ll just enter the password . . .”—he keyed it in—“and I’ll let you hunt for
the manuscript. I’m going to check my phone messages.”

Lizzie nodded and sat, scrolling through the programs, looking for what appeared to
be appropriate. “This is so frustrating. He has a file called ‘Notes’ but I need to
find what he’s written so far.”

Mark grunted and went on with his own search.

“Can we print out the notes?”

“Yeah, it’s hooked up, ready to go.”

She clicked on the icon and then got back to her search for the manuscript. “Here’s
something called
Reconciliation
.” She clicked on it but the file was blank.

“That’s funny. There’s nothing in it. And I can’t see any other files that might be
a manuscript. It must be this one.
Reconciliation
. Comes after
Judgment
, I’d say.”

“That sounds about right,” Mark agreed. “You sure there isn’t a manuscript under another
title?”

“No. Just his older titles and they’re all listed in the ‘Book’ folder.”

Mark scratched his cheek. “I wonder what that means, if anything.”

Lizzie walked over to the printer and scooped up the pages. She sat in the chair opposite
Mark’s desk and started reading them through carefully. “Listen to this. It’s notes
for his new book and it looks like he uses code words for all the people.”

She stood up and started pacing. “This is exciting, Mark. What if these words, these
characters, are real people here in Ashton Corners? Any one of them might have had
a motive to kill Derek if they thought he was about to expose some deep, dark secret.
And by the number of calls I’ve been getting asking about him, I think this is the
key.”

She handed the pages to Mark and he read through them. “You could be right. I’d like
a list of all your callers and anyone else you’ve encountered when you’ve been nosing
around, even though you weren’t supposed to.”

Lizzie faked a pout. “Ah, but if I’m right, you’ll be pinning a medal on me. Maybe
even a badge.”

Mark snorted.

“Unfortunately, my callers are mostly named ‘anonymous’ but I’ll see what I can do.
Maybe you could contact his agent and ask if Derek had sent the new manuscript to
him, or even just how it was coming along?”

“Good idea. I’ll contact him tomorrow, and if he has a copy, I’ll ask him to send
it here.”

“And?”

He sighed. “And let you read it.”

* * *

M
ark had decided to call it an early night and Lizzie, although somewhat disappointed,
understood. She read for a while after getting home, then went up to her bedroom.
Brie sat on the floor, patiently staring at her catnip-stuffed cloth mouse that was
attached to a long elastic and stick. Lizzie took the hint and started whipping it
around for her. Edam crept into the bedroom and stayed well out of the way. Finally,
Brie tired of the game and sat on the mouse, giving Lizzie the opportunity to get
ready for bed. The phone rang as she stood brushing her teeth. She quickly rinsed
her mouth and made a dash for the phone in her bedroom, catching it on the fifth and
final ring before it went to the machine. She couldn’t place the voice that answered
her hello, but it was female.

“Is this Ms. Turner?”

“It is and who are you?”

“Ms. Turner, I’m so sorry to be calling at this late hour but I needed to ask you
a question.” She paused. “Did Derek Alton mention anything that he might be writing
about in his new book?”

“No, he didn’t. What did you say your name was?” Lizzie tried to sound casual about
asking the question, not wanting to scare off the caller. She studied the top of her
fuzzy pink slippers, sticking out from the cuff of her pink-and-orange-striped pajama
bottoms.

“I’d heard it was a sequel to
Judgment.
If that’s so, you’re sure he didn’t talk about his characters or any such thing?”

“Really, no, he didn’t. We didn’t get to have that book club meeting, as you know.
Now, will you tell me who you are and why you’re asking?”

“I think not, dear. Thank you anyway. You have a nice evening, now.”

The dial tone rang in Lizzie’s ear. Frustrated, she hung up then went directly to
the caller option. Herbert Trendy. And a number!
Eureka.
She rushed into her office, grabbed a pen and wrote both down.
Gotcha, Mrs. Herbert Trendy.
And tomorrow, I’ll find out why you want to know.

She went to bed humming.

* * *

L
izzie was up even before the crack of dawn. It was still dark out as she got dressed
for her run. She fed the cats and exited while they were busy eating. Officer Verge
sat talking into his cell phone, cruiser parked across the street this time. Lizzie
went over and waited until he rolled down his window after hurriedly finishing his
call.

“Good morning. Hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable a night for you.”

The officer, looking embarrassed, probably at having being caught on the phone, shook
his head and offered a small smile.

“I’m going for a run along the river and over to Glendale Park. There’s a trail about
fifty feet into the park, which I’ll take. If you cut over to the entrance, I’ll join
you there about two minutes after I’m out of sight.”

“Can’t do that, ma’am. I’ll have to go with you.”

Lizzie shook her head in amazement. “Officer, I’m out early and taking a route I haven’t
done in several weeks. Surely this invisible gunman won’t think to be around yet.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are right, ma’am. But do you know what the chief would do to me
if he ever found out?”

“I won’t tell him. Promise.”

“Sorry. If you’re going somewhere I can’t see you, I’m there running with you.”

She shook her head. “Okay. Just trying to make life more tolerable for you.”

“And I do thank you for that, ma’am.” He turned the key in the ignition, which Lizzie
took to be her signal to start running.

She started slowly, as usual, which also allowed him to pull a U-turn and fall in
behind her. She went along Charles and then at the third intersection, turned right
for ten blocks before turning again, left, onto the path that paralleled the Tallapoosa
River. The dawn was making its entrance as she reached the edge of Glendale Park.
She heard Officer Verge sound his car horn and she jogged on the spot until he walked
over to her.

She looked him up and down, taking in the jacket and heavy gun belt, along with the
Gore-Tex boots. “You sure you can run dressed like that?”

“Don’t you worry about me none. I’ve been trained to pursue a suspect dressed liked
this. You just lead on, ma’am.”

It was almost a challenge, and Lizzie took off at her fast pace not looking back until
she reached the path that jutted to the left and through the park. But she could hear
the rattle of his belt and knew he wasn’t too far away. She slowed to turn and looked
back. Officer Verge was about ten paces behind. She was impressed.

They made it through the park and back out the main gate, along the road, until they
were back at his car.

“Nicely done, Officer.”

He grinned. “Told ya, ma’am. But I think I’ll drive the rest of the way.” He tipped
his ball cap and got into the car.

Lizzie grinned and retraced the last few yards back to the park entrance, then turned
to run along Main Street and loop back to her place.

As she put together a breakfast of poached egg and toast, she pondered how best to
approach Mrs. Herbert Trendy. She could wait till later in the day and phone. And
Mrs. Trendy could hang up. Or she could stop by after school. And Mrs. Trendy could
shut the door, or even not open it. Or, she could stop by on the way to school, surprise
her totally at this early hour. Her chances of getting a foot in the door seemed much
stronger.

She ate quickly and ran upstairs to shower and get dressed. She didn’t have any appointments
scheduled; her time was her own these last few days, and although she would use it
doing the endless reports and planning, she could go for a more casual look. She chose
gray cords and a black cotton shirt, with a pale denim jacket to top it off.

The cats had already claimed their spots on the bed and were busily grooming each
other. She wished them a happy day, grabbed her tote and left. She’d found Trendy’s
address and used Google Maps to get directions. She was all set. Except for Officer
Verge. What the hey, she’d just tell him she had to visit someone on the way to school.
Mark would never make the connection, if Verge was feeding him addresses and other
intel.

She grinned to herself, feeling a touch like Mata Hari. She no longer needed to check
under her car, either.

She pulled up in Trendy’s driveway, although she’d wanted to leave the car down the
street a bit so that Mrs. Trendy wouldn’t see it if she peered through the curtains.
But Officer Verge might be suspicious of that move. She looked at the house, watching
for rustling curtains, and seeing none, wondered if anyone was up yet. She glanced
at her watch. Eight twenty.
Here’s hoping.
That was the only snag. If she weren’t up, she’d be forewarned. There was a hitch
to every plan.

The cruiser waited at the curb in front of the house. That was good, Lizzie thought.
Mrs. Trendy might see it and, thinking the police were at the door, open it without
question. Lizzie was smiling when the door did open.

“Mrs. Trendy? I’m Lizzie Turner and I really do need to talk to you, right now.”

Trendy’s mouth dropped open. The two large rollers on top of her head shook ever so
slightly. She looked down at her mint green chenille robe and furry mint green slippers.
Lizzie moved her own foot subtly inside the door before Trendy thought to close it.

“It’s really early, Ms. Turner. I can’t think what would bring you here this early
in the morning. I’m not even dressed.”

“You don’t need to be dressed for a talk. It won’t take long. I promise.”

Trendy stood looking at Lizzie for a few moments, then sighed and moved aside. “Okay.
Come along in.”

Lizzie followed her into the living room, to the right of the door. The room felt
warm and rosy, probably because of the mauve pink walls and the country-style furniture
upholstered in swirls of pink, purple and aqua on a white background. It looked like
a room Mrs. Trendy would be comfortable in. The equivalent of a chenille bathrobe.

“Is there anyone else at home?” Lizzie asked, figuring a husband lurking upstairs
might make Mrs. Trendy less chatty.

Her back stiffened. “I’m a widow. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering if we had privacy. I won’t beat around the bush. I want to know
why you were asking about Derek Alton. And don’t bother denying it was you who phoned
my house last night.”

Trendy stood and walked over to the window, drawing the curtains. She gasped. “Why
did you bring the police?”

“He’s not there for you. Believe me. You did know Derek, didn’t you? Or should I say,
Harvey Warren.”

Again, Trendy looked startled. Her black hair, what wasn’t done up in rollers, ended
just above her shoulders and was a mass of waves and curls, framing a face that sagged
under both eyes, and a double chin. She dropped back down in her chair and pulled
her robe tighter around her slender body. “What do you know about Harvey Warren?”