Murder in March

by Camilla Chafer

  The only person she knew in town was me, and no one knew my literary identity.

  That made me think of something else. Could Esther have another secret author living in town or nearby? She might not have mentioned it to me.

  Mark hadn't mentioned it either so perhaps he didn't know. I had a good idea of who would know the answer to that question.

  I picked up my cellphone and called Esther's assistant, a woman named Lisa. Lisa was Esther's first and longest employee. How Lisa managed to put up with Esther on a daily basis was a mystery and a wonder, but somehow, she did.

  "Ava, I have been so worried about you!" she said. "It's just terrible what happened. I mean, I can't believe Esther is dead!"

  "Neither can I."

  "I am so sorry you had to be the one who found her. Derrick told me what happened. That must have been so horrific."

  I brushed away the mental image of Esther's dead body and focused on the conversation. "It was awful. Poor Derrick."

  "He sounded very upset. The police turned up at his house to inform him and he said he will probably have to go to Calendar to collect her body and bring her home."

  "He doesn't have to identify her?"

  "No, the police said you did that already so they didn't need a formal identification. Derrick hasn't made any travel plans yet but can you help him when he arrives? I don't know if he'll be traveling alone, but I should know more about the arrangements pretty soon."

  "Of course! I'll help in any way I can," I said, pleased to be of some use.

  "He'll probably need to stay there for a couple days so if you could recommend a hotel, I'd appreciate it. I don't think he'll want to stay in the same place where Esther died."

  "Leave it to me." A few small bed and breakfasts were sprinkled around town that would have been suitable so I made a note to send a list to Lisa.

  "Thank you. I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to, but you know the town and Derrick. He's just so overwhelmed by shock."

  "They were married a long time, weren't they?"

  "Almost twenty years, I think. They set up the agency together before I came along."

  "Does Derrick have any family or friends to support him? I know they didn't have children."

  "I can't decide if that's a good or bad thing. He has a sister that I know of, but children would have probably been more comforting for him. Although, now that I say it, they would have lost their mother, which would have been even worse."

  "Did neither one of them want children?" I asked, growing more curious. Esther never struck me as the motherly sort but Derrick was genuinely warm and friendly.

  "Derrick did, but Esther didn't. Kids would have cramped her style."

  "What style?" I asked without thinking. My eyes widened and I clapped a hand over my mouth. What a crass thing to say!

  Lisa laughed. "She was loud all right, but it was much more than that. Esther was the star of The Esther Show. If she had kids, she couldn't remain the star so she never wanted them. I heard her and Derrick arguing a few times about it but that was a long time ago. I think he eventually gave up. He would have been a great dad though."

  "That's a shame."

  "I agree, but it was his choice too. Anyway, what I can help you with? The agency is in disarray right now so I'm not sure what I can tell you."

  "What will happen to the agency?" I asked.

  "Derrick owns it outright now but whether he'll keep it operating or not, I couldn't say. I don't think he could tell you one way or the other either. Like the rest of authors, our contingency plan is to transfer you to the junior agents until your contract expires."

  "What if the agency closes?"

  "I'll have to check the contract you signed with Esther. Even if the agency ceases to exist, there's still the matter of the contract with your publishers. Did you want out?"

  "No, it just occurred to me that I have no idea what happens in circumstances like these. I know it's a bad time but I wanted to have some basic information."

  "It might take a little time for Derrick to decide what he wants to do with the agency; but when he does decide, we'll send an email to all our authors that will clarify the situation. You don't need to worry, Ava, you're our rockstar. We'll make sure you're looked after very well."

  "That's nice of you to say. Lisa, I was wondering though, was I the only author Esther came to see on this trip?"

  "She didn't mention anyone else and I put together her itinerary. Why do you ask?"

  "I thought she might know someone else in town."

  Lisa hmmmed to herself. "I don't think so," she said finally. "She would have said something."

  "Even if it were another author?"

  "Definitely if it were another author. If she thought an author was worth her time, she would insist on blowing her own trumpet."

  "What if the contracts weren't signed yet?"

  "I don't think she'd waste her time visiting someone who wasn't making her any money."

  "You mentioned planning her itinerary. Did she have any meetings that didn’t include me or Mark?"

  "You know, that detective from your town asked the same thing when we had a video call, so I already know the answer. No, she didn't. I sent him a copy of her schedule. He's something to look at, huh?"

  "Detective Logan?" I asked, knowing she must have meant him. Was I the only woman who didn't fancy him?

  "Mmm-hmmm."

  "I went to high school with him."

  "Lucky you! Was he as cute back then?"

  "I don't know that I'd call him cute now..."

  "Rugged," interjected Lisa. "Strong. Sexy."

  "He was very cute in high school," I cut in before her excitement peaked any higher. "And he's a good detective too."

  "I hope so. We want to know who did this and why."

  "Can you run through Esther's schedule with me too?" I asked, hoping she wouldn't ask why. I didn't want to seem like I was poking around, and I certainly didn't want her spilling that juicy detail to Detective Logan.

  "I can't imagine that it would hurt to tell you. Let me see—" The sound of tapping came through the line before Lisa spoke again, "She blocked off the first morning for travel and then there was the lunch meeting with you and Mark. Then she had the afternoon blocked off for phone calls. I don't see anything penciled in for the evening. The next day was designated to working from the hotel. The second day she was supposed to spend with you and Mark, going ‘page-by-page’ through your manuscript, and then they were booked on the red-eye back."

  I thanked Lisa, but not before I confirmed where I could send flowers and a condolence card, and I hung up. I knew Esther wasn’t strictly following her schedule since her excursion into town, but it was disappointing that she couldn’t have inserted some nugget of information into her diary.

  I took one last look through the manuscript, sighing when I saw the last page on which Esther had written this is one of those books where readers will be happy if the main characters die.

  "Terrific," I muttered. I didn't know what Esther had planned for our day of turning this book around but I would have betted everything I owned that it was brutal. Somehow though, I didn't feel it would be the same with Mark. Come to the city, he said.

  I closed my eyes and allowed myself a brief moment of fantasy. Could I move to the city, even if it were temporarily? Where would I live? In a rented studio? Or could I sublet an apartment? What if I splashed out on a suite at a fancy hotel? Mark and I could spend our sun-dappled days working in his — what I could only imagine to be — glass-walled office, poring over the manuscript. Then I could spend my evenings rewriting it until Jessica and Ryder loved each other passionately. Maybe Mark would invite me over for dinner and we'd share a bottle of wine, or we could meet for brunch. I imagined bumping into him at a museum, both of us staring at the same painting until we realized we were standing only inches apart. He would gaze down at me and...

  "I need to write this down," I said out loud, pulling open my desk
drawer and scrabbling for a notepad and pen. It might have been a fantasy, a silly, foolish pipedream, but it was good stuff! I could make it happen to my characters. "I also need to get a life," I added when I finished my notes and checked my wristwatch. "And I need to leave."

  I shuffled the manuscript into a neat stack again and tried not to get sucked back into my daydream. I liked Mark. Not only was he handsome, but also warm and friendly. However, there was no denying that he lived miles and miles away from me and we led very different lives. He hadn't even shown me the least spark of interest except to make some nice comments about my hair. Men like him, from what I'd read in a magazine, were in high demand in the city. Handsome, smart, employed, with a sparkling personality... and single. There was no way I, a socially-inept, small town girl, could compete with the kind of sophisticated women he no doubt mingled with.

  Purrdie had disappeared from her sleeping spot by the time I made it downstairs and her food bowl was empty. I refreshed the water and added food to her bowl so I wouldn't have to rush back. Grabbing my warm jacket and the purse I dropped by the door earlier, I took off for my car.

  I parked outside March's Outdoors and Camping — the closed sign on the door faced the street and all the lights were off — and pushed open the door that led from the street to my dad's apartment above.

  "What have I said about locking your front door?" I asked him as I reached the landing.

  "In here, honey," called Dad from the kitchen.

  "Your front door was open again," I told him as I stepped through. Dad stood by the stove, stirring a pan of carbonara, wearing his usual uniform of a red-checkered shirt and blue jeans. Next to the sauce was another pan of tagliatelle. Dad wasn't a hotshot when it came to cooking but I was glad to see him branching out into a new sauce. "Smells good."

  "Everyone leaves their doors open here," said Dad.

  "We've had this conversation before," I reminded him.

  "Have we? I don't remember." He reached out an arm and I ducked under it so he could give me a hug. I lay my head on his shoulder and breathed deeply. He smelled of mint and pine, simultaneously fresh and outdoorsy. The salt-and-pepper, graying hair only added to his charm. "Got anything to tell me?" he asked, giving me a very pointed look.

  "So you heard?"

  "The whole town knows all about that business up at the hotel. I was going to invite you both over for dinner."

  I pulled a face. My father meant well but he must have misheard a few conversations about my problems with Esther. "Esther?" I clarified. Esther would have hated a home-cooked meal with my dad, and my dad would have been horribly offended. Tipping my chin skywards, I thanked the stars above that he hadn't gotten around to extending an invitation.

  "Sure, she was your boss, wasn't she?"

  "She was my agent. It's different."

  "Did she tell you what to write and cut your checks?"

  "Yes."

  "I rest my case. Grab those bowls from the shelf over there while I drain the pasta. Hope you're hungry."

  "Very."

  I collected the bowls and my father added pasta and sauce before he insisted on carrying both bowls over to the small dining nook in his living room. I grabbed a beer from the fridge for my dad and poured a small glass of wine for me and then I followed him into the living room. Dad had brought a few things from his house to furnish the small apartment but it didn’t have the same warm glow of the home he made with Denise.

  "Why didn't you call me?" asked Dad when we arranged ourselves around the round table. "It's not every day that someone finds a dead body."

  "I could handle it. I didn’t want to worry you or Mom."

  "I was worried about you, especially with your mom out of town visiting your aunt until tomorrow. If not for our standing dinner plans, I would have come looking for you."

  "You know I can take care of myself."

  "Not the point. Do the police have any leads?"

  "No, but they asked Terry to come down to the station to make a statement."

  Dad's head shot up. "What in tarnation did they want Terry for?"

  "He drove Esther into town on the morning she was killed. It was just a formality but I'd like to ask him about it too."

  "He's due here for poker night. Hang around after dinner and you can ask him whatever questions you have. He's probably bursting to tell everyone anyway."

  "Thanks, Dad.

  "The man needs to get out more often," he continued.

  "You need to get out more too."

  "I do get out. I have poker night every week and we take turns hosting it. I go to the pub too. I also have dinner with your brother every week."

  "Which brother?"

  "Whichever one invites me." Dad laughed and laid his hand over mine. "And I have a standing dinner date with my best girl."

  "I'm your only girl."

  "I rest another case."

  "Why don't you go out on a date?" I asked. He was a good-looking man and plenty of the older ladies in town would have eagerly agreed with me. I tried the sauce and added, "Not bad, Dad."

  "I've been practicing. Now why would I want to go on a date?"

  "I'm worried that you'll be lonely."

  "Didn't you just hear about my busy social calendar? Besides, I don't want to go on a date. I'm the luckiest man alive when it comes to women. Let another man have a chance."

  "Lucky?"

  "Sure. I enjoyed two wonderful marriages. Lots of people don't even get one."

  "You and Mom are divorced," I pointed out.

  "And? Doesn't mean it wasn't wonderful. We raised four beautiful children and stayed married over twenty years. I call that successful. And then I got a second chance with Denise and enjoyed another terrific marriage."

  "I know," I said softly. He and Denise were very happy until fate was very unkind.

  We spent the rest of our dinner indulging in pleasant chitchat about the business and family gossip. The youngest of my brothers had apparently quit his job to go traveling and the other two were arranging a family camping trip.

  "This was a good sauce," I told him. "You should make it again."

  "Maybe I'll make it for that young man you've been seen around town with," said Dad as he winked.

  "Young man?"

  "The one you haven't mentioned all dinner. Jaclyn Henry at the café said you had coffee earlier and Sandy Rutledge said she saw you both holding hands."

  "Mrs. Rutledge needs to get her eyes examined! They both saw me with Mark Boudreaux. He came with Esther on this work trip. We weren't ever holding hands."

  "Sandy is prone to embellishment. She thought you found a nice man at last. You know, I can't be the only man in your life, honey. I know I've set the bar pretty high but you need to open your eyes and look around." Dad winked.

  "My dating life is perfectly fine, thank you."

  Dad huffed but the huff turned into a cough and I ended up having to smack his back, which I found quite satisfying. "Mark and I will be working together for a while," I told him while his face was still red. "And I've only just met him."

  "Tragedy brings two people together like nothing else."

  "Oh, please." But inwardly, I wondered if he were right. Esther's untimely death had definitely pushed us together.

  Downstairs, the door opened and a pair of voices drifted up to us. When footsteps hit the stairs I said, "You really need to start locking your door. Don't you read the paper? There was a break-in at one of the apartments on Main Street only a few weeks ago."

  "Are you breaking in?" bellowed Dad.

  "Yeah, give us your TV," said the first man to walk through the door. He carried a crate of beer that he set on the floor. Ronan was one of my dad's oldest friends, and a good four inches shorter with a growing belly. He wore a blue hoody under a leather jacket I rarely saw him without, and a cap that said HUG ME. So I hugged him.

  "How you doing, Ava?" said Ronan. "You look..." He turned around, nodding to his small audience, before turning
back to me "—Killer!"

  I rolled my eyes. So they also knew who discovered Esther’s body.

  "I got pulled down to the station thanks to that scary broad," said Terry. He stepped through next with a grocery bag full of chips and dips. He wore the green version of my dad's shirt and together, they made a fun trio. "They interrogated me. It was brutal."

  "No, they didn't," said Ronan. "Officer Nixon made you tea while you cried like a baby and swore you didn't do it."

  "That is not true," said Terry, pouting.

  "Which bit isn't true?" asked Dad.

  Terry looked at the floor. "Officer Nixon made me coffee, not tea." The three men burst out laughing and punched each other's shoulders.

  "The lady who was killed was Ava's boss. She found her," said Dad.

  The three men sobered up right away. "I'm very sorry to hear that," said Terry. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a fatherly squeeze. "I don't mean to be disrespectful. Laughter is my coping mechanism."

  "We tried to get him a t-shirt that said that but we couldn't get one wide enough," said Ronan.

  "I recently joined a gym," said Terry, patting his stomach. "And I am very hurt by that statement." He winked at me.

  "Terry, Ava wants to ask you a few questions," said Dad. He picked up the pasta bowls and walked to the kitchen, leaving me with his buddies.

  "I know you picked Esther up from her hotel the morning she died," I said. "Where was she going?"

  "That was her name? She made some noise about the hotel's business suite being not fit for any purpose and asked me to take her to the nearest shop that could print stuff from one of those flash drive things. I took her to Antonio's place because he has those printers you can plug a flash drive into."

  "How did you know what a flash drive was?" asked Ronan. "You can't even work the TV remote."