I gave a short laugh devoid of amusement. "That's surely a bit of an exaggeration, Candy."
She shrugged. "Be that as it may, it's something to consider." She hauled herself back to her feet, a grimace on her face. "Man, my dogs are barking today. I really need to get some more help in here."
I watched her walk back behind the counter and begin straightening out the trays of cookies and pastries. Turning to face Merry, I asked, "Do you really think someone could have gotten Viv and Victoria confused with me?" I looked down at my, uh, rather substantial figure, adding, "I'm nothing like either of them."
"True," Merry agreed, and I frowned at her. She hadn't needed to concur with me so quickly. "But," she said as she finished the last bite of her bear claw, "maybe it wasn't about you at all, just someone trying to ruin it for Lisa and Sarah."
I snorted rather inelegantly. "I could think of other things besides murder for destroying a good time. Besides, it appears those two were determined to ruin it for themselves without outside help."
"What if," Merry said slowly as she collected crumbs with the pads of her fingers, "someone in, say, Lisa's camp, and not necessarily Lisa herself, was out to ruin Sarah and her entire writing career? I checked numbers and she far outsells Lisa any day."
I sat silently considering that angle. I'd definitely met some cutthroat writers in my time, those whose successes were built on the backs of those willing to help while they themselves cut the rope for those following behind. It could happen, I supposed.
"Let's go with that," I said. "We need to start a list of suspects, those who might consider it all right to kill for sales." I shook my head. "I sincerely hope that I never get so famous that someone wants to literally bump me off the bestselling list."
"A list is a good idea. Hey, Candy," called out Merry, earning her a frown from the two elderly ladies sitting nearby. "You got any paper we can use? And a pen or something?"
"Yep. Come and get them." Candy waved a small notebook and a pencil at us from behind the counter. "I'm not walking any more than I absolutely have to."
"I'm telling you, girl. You need to get some more help in here." Merry took the paper and pencil from her. "Have you considered checking out the members of the chamber's Young Business Leaders? There're some awesome kiddos there who'd leap at a chance to learn a business from the ground up."
"That's a great idea," I exclaimed, murder suspects all but forgotten at the moment. "I know you've got a few working at Murder by the Book. How are they doing?"
"Good enough for me to leave them running the joint while I'm out with you." Merry grinned at me as she sat back down. "Kinda makes me feel like a wealthy girl about town, or whatever folks like that are called."
I nudged her. "Not too shabby for a lil suth'en gal," I said in my best drawl.
Merry's return nudge packed a bit more punch than mine had.
"All right," she said, looking at me expectantly. "Who's our first suspect?"
"Well, if we're looking at just Lisa Caldwell's background and the folks there, I'd begin with Lisa."
"I thought we were going to assume that neither she nor Sarah had anything to do with the murders," Merry said with a slight uplift of one eyebrow.
I shook my head. "No. When I'm trying to figure out who the killer is in my books, I have to list every character and then cross them off based on the process of elimination."
She nodded. "Okay. Lisa Caldwell will be suspect numero uno. Who's next?" She tapped the pencil against her teeth, eyes cast toward the ceiling as she considered.
"How about Zayne, her assistant? It wouldn't be the first time someone lower on the hierarchy did the dirty work."
"Good idea." She scribbled busily, adding his name to the list. "And her agent, definitely." She shuddered. "That woman sets my teeth on edge. She's got this gravelly voice that sounds like she just swallowed a mouthful of razor blades."
I rolled my eyes. "Really, Merry?" I leaned over to inspect the names. "How about a significant other? I've heard that she's been with the same person longer than most marriages last."
Merry shrugged. "Sure, why not. The more the merrier, although I'm not looking forward to checking out so many. Why couldn't our main suspect come labeled with a big neon sign or something?"
I hit my forehead with the palm of one hand. "Merry, I need you to text Officer Stud Muffin and ask him if he's heard anything back concerning those rags."
"It takes him a little time to answer, Caro," said Merry dryly. "And yes, he's definitely a cutie."
"I know, I know," I said impatiently. "I was just thinking along the lines of a presumptive test for the presence of blood, not an entire DNA profile."
"Of course," she exclaimed, and she quickly tapped out the message. "There," she added as she laid the cell phone on the table. "Hopefully we'll hear back soon."
"Let's continue with the list. Partner or not?"
"I think yes." Merry wrote the word "partner" under Lisa's and underlined it several times. "Do you know anyone who can help us get the name?"
"Oh, I'm sure it won't be that difficult. Doesn't she have a publicist as well?"
"Maybe. Probably. Could you find out?"
I shrugged. "I'm sure I could. Let's do this, Merry: I'll contact her agent and see about the partner or, barring that information, who her publicist is. Can you find out if Zayne what's-his-name was anywhere near Seneca Meadows this week?"
"Yep. I could probably get Scotty to go straight to the horse and get the info,"
"Don't you mean 'source,' not 'horse,' Merry?"
"Nope." She grinned at me. "I call it 'going to the horse's mouth'."
"Good grief," I said, shaking my head. "If I didn't know you, I'd think you were speaking another language."
"I have been accused of that," she said, laughing as she stood up. "Come on, Caro. Let's get home and start making those calls."
The weather had turned warm, a true Indian summer delighting those of us in upstate New York. I took my cell phone and notepad outside to make my calls, choosing a seat on the grass underneath a large oak. The sky was azure with the merest trace of clouds in the sky, and the trees, which had already begun donning their glorious fall foliage, seemed to have paused in midchange. From my place under the tree, I could still see a few green leaves mixed in among the gold and red. This was my absolute favorite time of year. I could begin each morning with a steaming cup of coffee and end it with a glass of iced tea: perfect. Of course, we might wake up tomorrow with snow clouds and frosty temperatures, but today was a magnificent treat.
I first placed a call to my own agent. Devin Cotton, a slim young woman with a head full of quirky curls, answered the phone with her typically upbeat greeting.
"Cotton Literary Agency, Devin here." I could hear the sounds of laughter in the background and smiled. The Cotton sisters—Devin, Desiree, and Delight—inherited the agency from their rather self-indulgent father. Mr. Cotton had thoroughly enjoyed the nightlife of New York City and had departed this life at an early age, leaving his three daughters a lucrative agency and a list of clients that resembled a veritable who's who of the writing world.
"It's Caro, Dev," I said. "Do you have a minute?"
"Sure thing. What can I do for you?"
"I'm not sure if you've been following the news from up in my part of the state or not—"
She interrupted me with a low whistle. "We sure have. Still killing folks off for plot ideas?" I heard her cover the phone and call out, "Girls, it's Caro."
"Hey, Caro," I heard from the other end of the line.
"Tell them I said hello," I said warmly. I'd really lucked out, as Merry would say, when I'd been picked up by the Cotton Literary Agency.
"Caro says hello," Devin called out.
"I'll keep this brief," I said, steering the conversation back to the reason I'd called her. "Lisa Caldwell is one of the authors who came up for the town's festival. She got into a fist fight—no kidding—with Sarah Lawson."
&nbs
p; "Seriously?" Devin sounded impressed. "I wish I could've seen that, Caro. I still remember that brouhaha from the writers' convention a few years ago."
"Who doesn't?" I gave a laugh. "That's proof that not all the drama happens between the covers of our books."
"Seriously. What can I help you with, Caro?"
"Do you happen to have a number or a way to contact Lisa Caldwell's publicist? I need to find out who her partner is so I can check on a few details."
Devin gave one of her light giggles. "I can do you one better than that, girl. Delight is good friends with Lisa's partner's sister."
I groaned. "Spare me the rank and file, Devin. You'll confuse me."
"I'll tell you what. How about I get the cell number of Sam and text it to you?"
"Who's Sam?" I asked, now thoroughly muddled.
"He's Lisa's partner. I think they've been together for, oh, something like ten years now. It's not all hearts and flowers, trust me."
"Really?" All right, I'll confess: I like a good bit of gossip as much as the next woman. This sounded very promising.
"Yep." I could hear papers rustling in the background. "Dee says he's a real player. I'm not sure why Lisa's still with him. I mean, she can support herself."
"That's terrible," I said, thinking of my own spouse and the trust we'd built up over the years. Of course, he knew that if I ever caught him doing anything untrustworthy, his little carcass would be toast. And I'd kill him off in one of my books. Horribly. "Well, text me as soon as you can. And give my love to your mother," I added before ringing off.
CHAPTER TEN
I stayed outside until the light began to fade and a few stars appeared in the sky. Greg was going to be late, and I had the house to myself. Trixie, of course, had spent a very uneventful day sleeping. Maybe a quick walk down to the neighborhood park before dinner would be good for the two of us.
With a very grumpy dog in tow, I headed across the shared lawn between my house and Merry's and down the sidewalk toward the park. I'd found a murder victim there a few summers back, and even now I tended to watch where I stepped whenever I walked there. There was something disconcerting about anticipating an uneventful stroll and literally tripping over a body.
"It's just for a few minutes, Trixie." I looked back at the dachshund as she waddled behind me, her snout hanging so low it was almost touching the ground. "Don't act like this is torture, young lady. If you did more of this, there might be less of you."
And less of me as well, I added wryly to myself. I could use more exercise and I knew it.
We did one lap and then headed back to the house. I was anxious to see how far Merry had gotten with her part of the research and decided to stop off at her place.
"Merry, it's me," I called out as Trixie and I walked up on her porch. I could make out music playing inside and knocked loudly, hoping she'd hear me over the melancholy voice singing "My Funny Valentine."
"I'm not deaf." I jumped as Merry walked up behind me, a pair of gardening gloves on her hands and a small trowel held in one. "Come around to the back with me. I'm trying to get my flowers transplanted while we have some decent weather."
Trixie trotted willingly beside Merry as we walked to the rear of her house, the leash dragging behind. Maybe it was just me she didn't care for.
"See if I ever give you a treat again," I said aloud.
Merry turned around, one eyebrow lifted. "Thanks, but I can get my own treats, Caro."
I laughed. "I wasn't speaking to you, silly." I pointed down at Trixie, whose long body had folded itself around Merry's legs in her best feline impression. "I was talking to Miss Priss here. She's definitely on the temperamental side of things today."
"Out for enforced exercise, huh?" She reached down to scratch between Trixie's soft ears. If a dog could turn up its nose, I could swear that my recalcitrant pet did just that.
"Yes. Listen, I think I've got some good information regarding Lisa and her partner." I lowered myself onto the back-porch steps and stifled a groan. Merry's ears must have been tuned to a supersonic frequency, however: her wide grin was enough to prompt an eye roll on my end of things. I did not need my best friend reminding me of just how out of shape I was.
"Yeah? What did you find out?" Merry gently untangled Trixie from around her legs and began working with the several pots of chrysanthemums, their bright gold and orange faces turned up toward the sky in the soft twilight.
"Devin seems to think that Sam—that's Lisa's partner of nearly ten years, by the way—is a 'player.' That was her word, not mine," I added as Merry gave a snort of laughter. "Apparently the cad thinks nothing of sharing the wealth of his charms amongst quite a few women."
"When you put it that way, it sounds almost civilized." Merry stood up, stripping the garden gloves from her hands and tossing them on the porch beside me. "Greg's not home yet?"
"Not yet." I stood up and glanced over at my own house. I'd left the kitchen light on, something that bothers my dear hubby. If he was home, he would have turned it off. "Would you like to come over? I'm just throwing together a stir fry for dinner, but I could use the company."
"Sure. Let me get washed up and I'll be right over." She gave Trixie another pat on her soft head. "Wanna stay with your Auntie Merry, little girl?"
"Be my guest," I said. "Her mum will appreciate it."
Do dogs roll their eyes?
Over a plate of shrimp and veggie stir fry (I add zucchini squash, mushrooms, garlic, and onion) and jasmine rice, Merry and I verbally tossed around possible suspects. Merry was fairly certain it was someone who was hell-bent on destroying Seneca Meadows' first festival, while I was leaning toward a writers' feud gone fatal. Either direction was a good possibility in my book.
"So how's the effervescent Devin doing these days?" Merry lifted a forkful of shrimp and rice, her every move watched by Trixie.
"She's doing well. They've really made a go of that agency," I said around a mouthful of food. Swallowing, I added, "Delight is the one who pointed out the fickle Sam to me. I'm wondering, Merry, if there might not be a touch of the green-eyed monster somewhere in all of this."
"How do you mean?" Merry tilted her head to one side, a perfect copy of Trixie as she sat waiting for food to drop.
"Well," I said, putting my fork down and steepling my hands under my chin, "think about the two young women who were killed. Both were blonde, beautiful, and leggy."
Merry nodded.
"Let's go with the jealousy angle, okay?"
Another nod.
"What if—and this is a big 'if'—Lisa had already found out who was to play the corpse and was already crazy with suspicion concerning Sam, assuming he would join her here for the weekend. She would see them as possible rivals for his attention and want to eliminate the competition." Merry laughed and I frowned. "What? It makes as much sense as anything else does at this point. This entire week seems topsy-turvy, in my humble opinion."
"That's true," agreed my dinner guest. "But why go to those lengths? I mean, she's already dealt with this guy for a while, or at least that's what it sounds like. Why do this now?"
I shrugged. "Maybe it was a combination of professional jealousy over Sarah's success in the same genre of books as well as feeling 'used and abused' by Sam."
"Okay. That makes sense. But let's look at this in another way. How about someone who is jealous of the way the chamber is going under my guidance? There might be some holdovers from the Dragon Lady's regime who are crazy enough to kill someone just to ruin a simple festival."
I nodded. "Possibly. Who do you have in mind?"
"Well, no one really, but if I had to name a few names, I'd probably go with Maria Consalves, the one who runs the garden center off of Main, or maybe Pete Wallace from the sub shop on Center and First Street. I think he and Lucia had a thing going for a while, although she would have never admitted it."
"And their goal would be what—to wreak havoc and make you look bad?"
"I wouldn't
put it past them, Caro. You remember how bad it was last year." She scraped the last of her rice and stir fry from her plate. "That was delicious, Caro. Too bad Greg wasn't here."
"He had a late faculty meeting." I shook my head. "I hope they gave him something besides coffee. If not, he'll be incredibly grumpy when he gets home."
"Won't he stop for something to eat on the way?" Merry's eyebrows began migrating toward her hair.
"No. The only time he'll do that is if I suggest it." I smiled. "It's as though he still expects the little woman to have a hot meal waiting, no matter the time, just as his mum did."
"Oh, brother." Merry stood up and held out her hand for my plate. "You cooked, I'll clean up."
"Oh, just leave them in the sink. I'd rather keep discussing this case."
"So it's a case now, is it?" Merry teased. "Coffee?"
"You know how to run the Keurig." I smiled. "I'll have Pumpkin Spice, please."
Settled down at the table once more, this time with steaming mugs of coffee for me and green tea for Merry, we began comparing ideas again. I was thinking about Sam and Lisa and their apparently angst-filled relationship. I could see someone killing for love, or the lack thereof, but not as a precursor to a possibility only. That required a mind too evil to comprehend in my book.
"Do you think that someone could kill because they think someone might be a rival?" I asked, a slight frown puckering my eyebrows. I lifted one finger and rubbed the spot. "I don't want wrinkles," I explained to a grinning Merry.
"Then stop frowning." She took a sip of her coffee, closing her eyes against the steam. "If you're asking if someone crazy enough to kill in the first place would think it was necessary to eliminate possible rivals, then yes. Crazy folks do things the rest of us can't even imagine."
"Thank goodness for the crazies," I said, lifting my mug in a toast. "Otherwise I wouldn't have very many plots for my books."
You Can Lead a Horse to Water (Proverbial Crime Mysteries Book 3) Page 9
