by Teresa Trent
As Evangeline began talking again, Doug Lindstrom now stood in the doorway of the banquet hall looking out into the lobby. He stepped over to Nora.
“You handled that very well,” he said in a whisper.
“What was I going to do? I had to get her off Miss LeClaire. I hope it wasn’t too disruptive to Miss Cartwright.”
He stepped closer to Nora and leaned forward. “I think she will be fine. If anything, it gives the convention goers a wonderful story to tell when they get back home. So many situations here at the hotel. It may surprise you, but not everybody is built to act on instinct. It is our instincts that can save lives.”
“Did you learn that from working with dogs?”
He laughed and then quieted down looking at the banquet room. They were still rapt with attention to the speech. “Some of it,” he said in a lower voice. “I just wanted to thank you for trying to keep everything in control. I know you’ve done a lot of work here and this is the biggest event our little Tunie has had in decades. I think you and Marty have pulled this off beautifully.”
Nora felt a little embarrassed at the dog trainer’s comments. She didn’t feel that way, but it was comforting to know that the running of the convention looked good to an outsider. Even though Doug Lindstrom was thirty years her senior, he was a very handsome man. Could he be flirting with her? Nora quickly brushed the thought out of her mind. He seemed to be dedicated to Evangeline. It struck Nora that this was yet another person swearing allegiance to the strange mystery writer.
“Thanks,” Nora acknowledged. “Lately, I haven’t always felt that way, so your words are coming at a good time for me.”
“It’s tough to have an idea that nobody else believes in. It’s even tougher to implement a plan to bring it forth. I was sure the Tunie was going to be knocked down with a wrecking ball one day, just another piece of lost Texas history, but here we are, having a lovely meal, listening to my favorite writer. With the improvements, you and your partner have made on the property by bringing this old place into this century with modern technology, it has gone from being Piney Woods’s eyesore to one of its proudest accomplishments. You know I heard all about what happened with Mr. Brockwell. He was the epitome of the man if you know what I mean.”
“I would have appreciated meeting you when I first came to town.”
“That’s kind of you to say. It’s tough moving to a new town. All I remember when I first came to Piney Woods was Adam Brockwell was the establishment around here. Nobody ever questions the good old boys of Texas. Am I right?” The dog trainer’s face flushed revealing he did not have a high opinion of Adam Brockwell.
Doug’s eyes drifted to Evangeline who was about to finish her talk.
“How long have you known Miss Cartwright?”
Doug pressed his lips together and sighed. “Oh, a long, long time. I mean, through her books.”
Applause went up as Evangeline finished her speech.
“I better get going. It was nice talking to you, and again, thanks for keeping the peace around here.” A smile came to his eyes. “I thought that was your boyfriend’s job?”
“ I help out where I can.”
Doug returned to the banquet room and joined Evangeline at her table. Nora noticed Doug’s hand quietly slipping over Evangeline’s. Would she and Tuck be holding hands at that age? Would they even be together by then? Nora started thinking of Sasha LeClaire. For the first time since she’d been in Piney Woods and with Tuck, she felt jealous. Sasha was just so good at flirting with him. It was becoming obvious there was some sort of chemistry between Tuck and Sasha. Then again, maybe her boyfriend was just reacting like any red-blooded American male. Nora glanced over at Evangeline and Doug once more. There was so much more to these two people than what she knew. She could feel it.
Chapter 16
W
After everything settled down, Marty and Max decided to have dinner together in the dining room. Nora was happy for Max, but Alan Shaw was on her mind. She had only spoken to the man twice each time for less than five minutes. How could one person do so much damage in so little time? Even more important who else’s life had he messed up so quickly that they pushed him down the elevator shaft? He had never set foot in Piney Woods before, but Texans were famous for shooting first and asking questions later.
Nora had so looked forward to this convention, but after everything that had happened, she could not wait until the last guest in their mangy little cat sweatshirt went home. After the dinner Max had returned to the home he shared with his mother, and Marty to her fourth-floor apartment, now tired and wanting to get off her foot after such an exciting evening. Nora worked alone at the check-in desk and her long to-do list was finally coming to an end. She pulled up Alan Shaw’s magazine but didn’t see any other articles he had written. The online version of Cat Lover didn’t have Alan Shaw’s name anywhere. He wasn’t a feature writer and that surprised her. What about that secretary he said he had? Maybe he was on the editorial staff? She searched again, but Nora came up with nothing. Whoever Alan Shaw was, he didn’t work for this magazine. Nora put Alan’s name in a general internet search box. The list that came up was pages long. There was an Alan Shaw who owned a bowling alley in New Jersey and another who seemed to be the father of pickles. She finally had some luck when she searched under Alan Shaw, reporter. A series of articles came up in a magazine titled First Reporter on a waste water facility that was ruining the environment. The same way he had attacked the Tunie, Alan had attacked the environmental disaster. His words were like arrows as they reached their point. The waste water facility ended up making significant changes, possibly due to his reporting.
The injustices spilled out through this community’s waterways should not go unpunished and this reporter will be sure that the powers that be take care of it.
Nora searched for the magazine that had published the wastewater article and found he had several stories there along with other magazines he had worked for. Instead of being attached to one magazine, Alan Shaw was a freelance investigative reporter. He worked for whoever would pay him. Most of his pieces were about helping the common man. Nora sat back in her chair listening to the dishes and silverware clink in the next room as Wiley’s staff finished serving the few stray guests that would come in after the banquet crowd left. What in the world would Alan Shaw be investigating in Piney Woods, Texas?
There were several other articles where Alan Shaw had searched out investigative stories and brought who he perceived as criminals to justice. He went after a man who bred pit bulls and shut him down. He rescued an old lady who was losing her home because of the rigorous rules and fees of a home owner’s association.
What could be attracting a guy like Alan Shaw here at the Meow Meetup? Why would he want to interview Evangeline? Nora could not think of what this charming woman would have done to get a man like Alan Shaw tracking her. Maybe she was just a standard interview he was doing to pay the rent? If Nora wanted to know what her intrepid reporter had been doing, she needed to either access the laptop that was in the possession of the police department or figure out what magazine he was really working for and planned to pitch Evangeline’s interview. Nora pulled up several articles and found that six of them were at the First Reporter. It was nearly eight-thirty in the evening. Even investigative reporters left the office eventually. Nevertheless, she found a phone number for the offices and gave it a ring. “First Reporter, your news just might be news.”
“Hi. I’m surprised to find anybody working so late.”
“Yeah. Well, like I said. Your news might be news, and on a slow news day, I’m open to all possibilities.” This time the voice didn’t sound quite so canned.
“I was wondering if you could tell me anything about Alan Shaw?”
“Alan? That dog. What’s he done now? He’s at the end of the legal fees we’re willing to pay for him. Make sure he
knows that.”
It sounded like Mr. Shaw had worn out his welcome at First Reporter. Maybe all that justified snooping was just a bit illegal at times.
“No. He hasn’t done anything. It’s what’s been done to him. Can you tell me, was he on an assignment for your magazine?”
There was the squeak of an office chair on the other end of the line. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s just back this up a bit. What do you mean something was done to him?”
It seemed the night desk employee at the First Reporter didn’t miss a thing. Nora debated how to inform this person of Alan Shaw’s death. It was hard to believe the man in the bottom of the elevator had any close friends, but who knew? “This is Nora Alexander calling from Piney Woods, Texas. He said he was here for Cat Lover magazine. I am starting to believe he was working on another story. We have a convention called the Meow Meetup at our hotel right now.”
“Seriously? That’s what it’s called? Is this where people with cats meet up? Like on dates?”
“I didn’t name it. Were you good friends with Mr. Shaw?”
“It’s difficult for anyone to be friends with Alan. What do you mean were? Has something happened to him?”
Nora blew out a sigh. “Mr. Shaw had a terrible accident and fell down the elevator shaft. We thought he worked for Cat Lover Magazine, but I couldn’t find any publication of that sort listed. Now we are having a tough time trying to find anyone who actually knew him.”
The man on the other end of the line blew out a whistle. “Damn. Are you kidding?” Even though the night desk voice had been impartial before this, now he sounded almost sad.
“No. I’m so sorry.”
“How in the hell did he fall down an elevator shaft?”
“It was blocked off, but the doors to the empty shaft were open, but still we found him dead at the bottom. We really aren’t sure what happened yet.”
“As in the police are investigating this? Is this an accident or was it murder?”
“We’re not sure of that either. Right now, it’s being classified as an accident.”
“Holy cow. I’ve got to call the boss.”
Nora could feel she was about to be hung up on. She’d given all the information in this phone call and not received any. “Hold on one minute. Was Alan Shaw working for your magazine?”
“Why do you care?” He challenged.
Nora stammered. “He died in my hotel. I want to know why. He came in here lying to us from the get go and I would like to know why.”
“So, you say you’re somewhere in Texas? Dallas? Was that it?”
“No, I’m in Piney Woods, Texas. We are in East Texas, close to the Louisiana border. This is the Tunie Hotel. Was he working for you or not?”
“Alan Shaw.” The tone of the voice on the other end again changed as he took a pause. “If he was, he was probably working on one of his half-assed conspiracy theories. He didn’t even think we landed on the moon that guy. Let me look through my file.” There was a shuffling on the other end and then the night desk reporter came back on the phone. “Well, it looks like he did pitch an idea because he asked for travel expenses. I’m surprised he even remembered to turn in the form. Shaw could be forgetful, so this is unusual. I was never sure if he just forgot to turn in his requests or if he felt like he didn’t have to. “
“What was the idea?”
“I can’t really tell. He just said he was going to unearth the biggest story since Watergate. What did he tell you he was there for?”
“To interview our keynote speaker who is a mystery writer.”
“Huh?”
“I know what you mean. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I have to call my boss. I might be heading out your way. Save a room in your hotel for Rick Stephenson.”
“That might be tough.”
“Ah yes, the Meow Meetup. Are you sure it isn’t some kind of singles thing?”
“It’s a convention for cat lovers. Mostly older women, but some men. No one here seems like they’re looking to hook up, only talk about the world of cats. As the words came out of Nora’s mouth she considered Sasha LeClaire. Everybody but one that was.
“Seriously? If Alan was so desperate that he was investigating little old ladies with cats, he wasn’t pushed, he jumped.”
Chapter 17
W
When Nora finally left the Tunie hotel at about 11:30 and returned to the Piney Woods Bed and Breakfast, she was too wired to go to sleep. Between the many tasks in managing a convention and Alan Shaw’s death, her mind would not stop replaying the day. To try to find some sense of calm, Nora made a cup of hot cocoa with Tatty’s special combination of cocoa, sugar, and a little cinnamon. She took her steaming mug to the front porch swing and pushed her heels back and forth causing a comfortable squeak. Nora snuggled into her soft tan cashmere sweater and looked up at the stars in the clear night sky. The evening air soothed her. Nora breathed in and closed her eyes. She had to be back at work early tomorrow, so getting relaxed enough to sink into some quality sleep tonight was important.
“Nora?” Tuck softly spoke from where he stood on the bottom step of the porch. “Are you awake?”
Nora’s eyelids opened at his gentle voice and she felt a warm rush of pleasure at seeing Tuck. She just had to hope she wasn’t dreaming.
Nora sat up in the swing and opened her eyes. “Tuck? What are you doing here?”
Tuck’s smile played on the corners of his lips. “Looks like your day was as long as mine. I was driving home from work and saw you on the porch. I was a little worried you were sleeping out here. You do have your rent paid up, don’t you? Because if you don’t, I have a little extra room at my place.” He winked.
Nora patted the seat next to her. “Come sit down with me. I wasn’t asleep, but I was on my way. Can I get you some hot chocolate?”
“No. I’m fine. How are you?” He asked her like someone would ask a friend after a tragedy. Indeed, they had both been through a tragedy that day with the death of Alan Shaw, even if she did not particularly care for the man.
Nora yawned. “I think I’ve reached a new level of exhaustion. Ever get so tired you were afraid you wouldn’t fall asleep?”
Tuck laughed softly and put his arm around Nora, and the two of them huddled together under the stars making the swing rock together. “I can’t be too sure, but maybe that’s what success feels like? Congratulations. You’ve done it. This is the busiest the Tunie has been in years.”
“I know. It’s a wonderful thing, but when I wished for a full hotel, I had no idea so many things could go wrong. Did you know the head of the Meow Meetup wants a discount? Then we think Alan Shaw left us a slew of one-star reviews we had to get rid of and now, it seems he wrote an article slamming the Tunie. How could he be so mean after such a brief encounter with our hotel?”
“That’s the nature of things these days. If you have a gripe with anybody you can just go on line and tear them apart. The problem is nobody validates the complainer. It’s so easy to leave a scathing review. Any coward can shoot their mouth off and not have to worry about any type of retribution. You are a case in point.”
“The only problem was the organizer of the convention took Shaw’s words as the truth and now she wants half off the price of the rooms. She thinks she’s the victim of false advertising, but really, we’re the victim. Have you figured anything else out about Alan Shaw?”
“Not much.”
“I was trying to determine who he was writing his article for. I ended up talking with a man named Rick Stephenson who worked at a magazine that did investigative journalism. He knew who Alan Shaw was. I looked up Stephenson’s picture online. Handsome guy.”
Tuck perked up at that comment. “Handsome guy?”
“Oh, you know, it was a headshot. Everybody looks good in a headshot.”
“That maybe so, but it is alarming to hear my girlfriend talk about another man’s headshot.”
Nora attempted to change the subject. “Did you go through Mr. Shaw’s laptop?”
“Yes. That part was kind of unusual. This guy had tons of books on things like aliens and moon landings. He was a real nut job.”
“He was a conspiracy theorist.”
Tuck, who had his arm resting comfortably around Nora now turned to face her. She was sure he would go in for a kiss, but he stopped his actions, “How did you know that?”
“Rick told me.”
Tuck pulled away at Nora’s casual use of the reporter’s first name. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“You’re right. I should have called but I was just so busy with everything going on. Whatever he was here in Piney Woods for had nothing to do with cats.” Nora let out a big yawn and pulled Tuck back into rest deeper into his shoulder. “Did you find any documents about what he was here doing?” She said now looking up at the sky again.
“No. All of his document files were empty.”
This was strange. Everybody had document files on their computer. How could somebody who wrote for living not have documents written by him? “What do you mean empty?”
“His e-book library was full but his actual documents, the kind of thing you would create in Word weren’t there. Whatever he was writing he wasn’t keeping it on that computer.”
“And then we’re back to square one. He said he wanted to interview Evangeline. This is the kind of guy who spends his time investigating wastewater plants. What would it be about a mystery novelist that would intrigue him?” Nora yawned again feeling the warmth of the hot chocolate and the presence of Tuck relaxing her.
“The writer? That doesn’t make any sense. I’ll talk to Miss Cartwright tomorrow to see if she knows any reason an investigative reporter would want to talk to her. Do you think you could set that up for me?” As Tuck looked down Nora’s eyes had closed, and she had fallen asleep. He kissed her on the forehead and settled back to look at the stars.
