Reserved for Murder
A BOOKLOVER’S B&B MYSTERY
Victoria Gilbert
Dedicated, with sincere gratitude, to my readers
“Ah, how good it is to be among people who are reading.”
—Rainer Maria Rilke
Acknowledgments
I offer my sincere thanks to—
My wonderful agent, Frances Black of Literary Counsel.
My talented and supportive editor, Faith Black Ross at Crooked Lane Books.
The entire team at Crooked Lane Books, especially: Matt Martz, Jenny Chen, Melissa Rechter, and Madeline Rathle.
Cover designer Ben Perini.
My critique partners and fellow authors, Richard Taylor Pearson and Lindsey Duga.
All of the bloggers, podcasters, Youtubers, and reviewers who have mentioned, reviewed, and boosted my books.
The bookstores and libraries who have acquired, stocked, and promoted my books.
My husband Kevin, my son, Thomas, my mom, and the rest of my family.
My friends, including the online writers’ community.
My readers, who make all the work worthwhile.
Chapter One
When your neighbor is a retired spy, it’s easy to imagine innumerable dangers haunting the house next door.
This was one reason why the sight of the stranger in Ellen Montgomery’s garden startled me into dropping my garden shears. Scooping up the clippers and shoving them into the pocket of my loose cotton slacks, I scurried under the shade of an oak tree and glanced at my watch. It was four o’clock in the afternoon, a time that, combined with his attire, made the unknown man’s appearance in Ellen’s garden particularly odd. Ellen tended to reserve her afternoons for reading or naps, not visitors. The stranger’s nylon shorts, worn running shoes, and damp T-shirt, coupled with the perspiration glistening on his arms, led me to believe he’d just returned from a jog. That also wasn’t a typical activity for Ellen’s usual guests.
I tapped my foot against one of the old tree’s exposed roots as I contemplated this unusual situation. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have assumed the stranger was staying at Ellen’s elegant three-story Victorian home. Which would’ve been a first. While she hosted numerous luncheons and dinner parties, Ellen never allowed anyone to stay overnight.
“Comes from my need to be cautious most of my life, I suppose,” she’d told me when I’d once questioned this behavior. “I don’t like other people lurking about when I’m sleeping.” Which made sense considering the precautions she’d had to take in the past, when her career as a film and TV location scout had served as a cover for more clandestine activities.
All of which made the sight of a random visitor in her garden both intriguing and concerning. I narrowed my eyes as I examined the stranger. On the surface there was certainly nothing exceptional about the man. His height, build, and facial features were undistinguished. In fact, the only distinctive thing about him was his curly light brown hair, which was gilded with highlights by the sun.
I bet his hair was blond when he was a child, I thought, as the stranger casually sipped from his reusable plastic water bottle. He never glanced my way. That was probably for the best, since I was blatantly staring at him over the fence that separated Ellen’s garden from mine.
Dabbing the perspiration from my upper lip with a crumpled tissue, I considered strolling over and introducing myself. But a voice in my head cautioned me against this. Ellen undoubtedly still had secrets she needed to keep.
I picked up my basket of cut flowers and exited the garden, determined not to glance toward the stranger again. But as I unlatched the garden gate, a prickling sensation danced over my forearms, and I turned my head slightly to catch the man staring at me. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, but I could tell from the set of his mouth and jaw that he was examining me as intently as I had previously studied him.
Keep walking, I thought. Ellen will introduce him if he’s someone she actually wants you to know.
Which, considering her past, might not be the case.
I was so absorbed by these thoughts that I almost walked into one of my guests, who was crossing the flagstone patio that separated the garden from the back entrance to Chapters, the literary-themed B and B I’d inherited from my great-aunt, Isabella Harrington.
“What a lovely backyard.” A tall, curvaceous woman slipped off the large sunglasses that masked her face and offered me a smile. “Hello, I’m Amanda Nobel. Your housekeeper, who just signed us in, told me I could find you outside.”
I studied the woman for a moment, admiring the casual elegance of her turquoise silk blouse and white linen slacks. Amanda Nobel, bestselling author of a book series that had been turned into a hit television show, possessed a shining mane of blonde hair and skin highlighted by a light tan. She was every bit as beautiful as her promotional photos.
No photoshop needed. I held out my hand. “Welcome. I’m sorry I wasn’t inside to greet you when you arrived. I’m afraid I lost track of time. I was just cutting a few flowers for the house.” I set down my basket and held out my hand. “I’m your hostess, Charlotte Reed, but feel free to just call me Charlotte. We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
Although her bio claimed Amanda Nobel was thirty-eight, she could easily pass for a woman in her late twenties. Unlike me, I thought, my smile tightening as I recalled a recent glance in the mirror and the subsequent glimpse of wrinkles fanning out from the corners of my eyes.
Instead of shaking my hand, Amanda Nobel clasped it for a moment. “Nice to meet you, Charlotte, and do call me Amanda. Ms. Nobel sounds like you’re addressing my mother.” Her golden lashes fluttered over sky-blue eyes. “I’m so grateful to you for providing a place for me to relax. A little break from my book tour is just what I need. It’s been nonstop travel, jaunting from city to city, for a solid month.” She stared past me, obviously taking in the garden. “And I can see why you’d lose track of time out here. It’s lovely.”
I motioned toward the picket fence. “Of course, you’re welcome to enjoy the garden while you’re staying at Chapters. There are some benches shaded by the trees in the back, which makes it a little cooler than the patio. That can be especially helpful in this July heat.” As my gaze swept over the area, I noticed that the stranger had disappeared, probably back inside Ellen’s house. “I hope Alicia got you comfortably settled?”
“Oh yes, she even helped carry the luggage up to our rooms. Which are wonderful. All those books!” Amanda tilted her head and looked me over. “I must also thank you for putting me in the suite with the mystery books and décor. Most people would’ve chosen the romance-themed suite for me, just because of my novels. Frankly, I appreciate something different.”
“I assumed you would’ve already read a lot of the romance titles,” I replied. “Besides, you’re here to get away from your regular life, right?”
“Absolutely.” Amanda pursed her perfectly tinted lips. “I also appreciate being able to arrive before the other guests. It’s nice to be settled in before I have to greet any fans.”
“I thought that might be the case, so I told them check-in was a little later.” I glanced at my watch. “They should be arriving any time now, so if you want to enjoy the garden before they show up, please do. I’m afraid I must leave you, though. I need to take these flowers inside.”
“Trust me, I don’t mind a little time on my own. I rarely have that when I’m on tour.” A pained expression tightened Amanda’s face. “Seriously, I’m so thankful to you for agreeing to my terms. I know it’s inconvenient to keep my identity a secret, but you see, my fans …”
“Love you,” said a man crossing the patio to join us. “You should be grateful for t
hat,” he added, shooting Amanda a sharp look.
“I am, of course.” A shadow flitted over Amanda’s lovely face. “It’s just … Well, sometimes their enthusiasm is a little wearing.”
“We’re happy to offer you a brief respite.” I extended a hand to the man, who I assumed was the publicity and marketing manager running Amanda’s book tour. “Mr. Lott? Welcome to Chapters.”
“Please, call me Tony,” the man said, his hazel eyes assessing me as he gave my hand a quick shake.
I realized I’d probably betrayed my surprise and adjusted my expression. Tony Lott, who was clutching a paperback book in one hand, was bald and stocky. Shorter than either me or his boss, he didn’t match the mental image I’d created from speaking to him on the phone.
You know what happens when you make assumptions. The truth was, Tony Lott looked nothing like my stereotyped image of a publisher’s representative. When he’d told me he was a publicist and marketing manager over the phone, I’d imaged a tall, reedy fellow in tweeds, not a body-builder whose muscular arms bulged against the gleaming white sleeves of his polo shirt. Instead of the expected pressed trousers and dress shoes, he was wearing olive cargo shorts with sandals.
“Have we arrived before the fans?” The gaze Tony swept over me was as dismissive as it was haughty.
So maybe not entirely unlike the mental image I formed based on our phone conversations …
“Yes, I told them check-in was a little later,” I said.
“That was thoughtful, don’t you agree, Tony?” Amanda tossed her wavy hair behind her shoulders. “I know I appreciate the chance to rest and freshen up before I have to entertain anyone.”
Tony cast Amanda a look of exasperation. “You’re not really required to entertain them, you know. I realize you’d prefer to escape all your fans this week, except during tomorrow’s scheduled event, but at least only three are staying here. And they’ve all sworn to keep your presence in town a secret.”
Amanda frowned. “I’m not sure they will though.”
Turning to me, Tony offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “As I mentioned on the phone, the three fans who’ll be staying here won a contest sponsored by my employer, Amanda’s publisher. They get to spend some one-on-one time with their favorite author, as well as enjoy a vacation in Beaufort, all expenses paid. But to protect Amanda’s privacy, they were required to keep her lodging arrangements a secret from the public. Well, mainly from her fans. No comments or photos on social media and that sort of thing. Of course, Amanda won’t be locked in the B and B while she’s here, but we don’t want her more rabid fans stalking her every move.”
Amanda tapped her sunglasses against one palm. “That’s just it. I’m not convinced they’ll honor that promise.”
“They signed a contract. Which includes penalties if they share your whereabouts on social media or fan sites,” Tony said.
Amanda cast me an apologetic smile. “I guess that’s not a benefit for you, in terms of publicity, is it, Charlotte? I’m doing the meet-and-greet here, sponsored by your friend Julie Rivera’s bookstore, but I do hope to otherwise remain incognito. Most of my fans who’ll show up tomorrow will think I just came into Beaufort for the day. That’s the only event listed on my official appearance calendar and my publisher’s website. Which suits my plans, but doesn’t really give Chapters much exposure. However, I’m happy to write a testimonial you can use once I’m gone.”
“That will be all the promotion I need,” I said.
“Oh, I almost forgot—I have a little gift for you.” Tony handed me the paperback. “It’s an ARC, an advanced reader copy of Amanda’s upcoming book. Signed, of course.”
“Thank you very much.” As I offered both Tony and Amanda a smile, I observed Amanda’s pained expression and wondered why she didn’t appear pleased.
Tony didn’t seem to notice. He laid a hand on Amanda’s arm. “Can we head inside now? Don’t forget we have a few business matters to discuss. I prefer to do that in the comfort of air conditioning.”
“Oh, very well.” Amanda spat out the words as she yanked her arm free of Tony’s grip. She turned to address me, softening her tone. “I suppose I must save the garden exploration for another time. See you later, Charlotte.”
As I nodded and smiled at both of my guests, I noticed that the smile Tony Lott flashed in response was about as warm as the Bogue Sound in January.
I waited until Amanda and Tony had entered Chapters before I tucked the paperback under my arm and picked up my basket of flowers. Sympathizing with Amanda’s desire for peace and quiet, I longed to stay outside for a few more minutes myself, but knew I needed to head into the B and B, especially since we were expecting three more guests shortly. I couldn’t dump all the check-ins on Alicia. Not if I want to look forward to a pleasant evening, I thought, with a wry smile.
But before I could cross the patio to reach the back-porch door, I was stopped by a cheerful “hello” accompanied by a series of sharp yips.
I turned to see Ellen, who’d obviously just returned from taking her Yorkshire terrier, Shandy, for a walk. “Hey there, good to see you,” I said, as I crossed to the gate that led into her backyard. “I know it’s been a while since we had a good chat, and we definitely need to catch up. But unfortunately, I can’t really talk right now.”
“I know. You have guests showing up today.” Ellen pushed her wide-brimmed straw hat away from her face, allowing it to dangle from its scarlet ribbons. A spry seventy-six-year-old whose blue eyes shone with intelligence, she mirrored her vibrant personality in her dramatic fashion sense, evidenced by the fuchsia dye streaking her white hair. “Amanda Nobel and some of her fans, if I’m not mistaken.”
“How did you …” I shook my head. “Never mind. I should’ve known you’d uncover that little secret.”
Ellen’s eyes twinkled. “I have my ways. But I promise to stay mum about her visit, especially since I suspect she wants to remain incognito. Or at least that’s what I deduced from her website. She has no public events scheduled, except for that ‘meet the author’ party Julie is throwing here tomorrow, even though I know you’ve planned some private gatherings, like our book club’s discussion Monday evening.” Ellen leaned down to scoop up a restless Shandy, who was straining against his leash. She cradled him against her breast before casting me a skeptical smile. “I can understand not wanting to tell the whole world where she’s staying for the week, but I’d think it would be tough to keep that information quiet with some of her fans also staying at Chapters.”
I set down my flower basket and adjusted the paperback, which was slipping out from under my armpit. “They apparently had to sign nondisclosure agreements. Can you imagine?”
“No, but then, I’m not famous. Not that I blame the woman for wanting to hide out for a few days. I imagine it can be exhausting to be ‘on’ all the time.” Ellen absently stroked Shandy’s silky fur as she looked me over. “Have you read her books?”
“I hadn’t,” I admitted. “I actually just finished the first in the series, and only because I thought I should know a little more about her work before co-hosting the author meet-and-greet.”
“And?”
“And it’s not my thing, but I can see why others really love the books.” I snapped a dead bloom off of one of the climbing roses that draped the fence. “Very much a romance, with this eighteenth-century pirate who’s mysteriously sent back and forth through time. Of course, he eventually meets a modern woman and they fall in love.” I shrugged. “I mean, there’s more to it than that. Lots of swashbuckling adventure and a villain who’s also able to travel through time, but that’s the gist.”
“Sounds like a good beach read,” Ellen said.
“Definitely perfect for that. And it is written pretty well. The English teacher in me can’t fault Ms. Nobel on her writing.”
Ellen glanced at her watch. “Well, as you say, you need to get to work. And I’d better go inside and get this pup some wate
r.” She hesitated a moment, her hand resting on the latch, before pushing her backyard gate open. “I’m hosting company this week as well. Family, which is not quite as demanding as your visitors will be, I expect.” She closed the gate and unhooked his leash to set Shandy down in the grass before turning to face me again.
“Oh?” As I dead-headed another rose blossom, I examined her expression for any trace of guile. As usual, it was impossible to determine if she was telling the truth, which I suppose was a skill she’d perfected working for U.S. intelligence.
“Yes, his name is Gavin Howard. My first cousin’s boy. Of course, he’s not really a boy. He’s in his early forties, like you. But when you’re as old as I am, that seems young.”
“You’ve never mentioned anything about your relatives before,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t betray my surprise. A family connection might explain Ellen allowing someone to stay at her house, despite claims that she hated such intrusions. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was not quite right with this scenario. Given the tension deepening the lines that bracketed Ellen’s mouth, and her former protestations about any overnight visitors, it still felt off.
But, I reminded myself, you only moved to Beaufort a couple of years ago. Perhaps Ellen hosting overnight visitors is simply a rare occurrence, not an impossible one. You shouldn’t read too much into it.
I shifted the paperback ARC under my other arm and picked up my flower basket. “You’ll have to introduce me. I’m curious to meet any relative of yours.”
Ellen arched her pale brows. “To see if they’re just as eccentric?”
I smiled. “No, just as interesting. But don’t let me keep you. Or Shandy,” I added. The terrier stared at me, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth as he audibly panted. “He does look a little parched. Anyway, I should check on some last-minute details before the rest of my guests arrive.”
“See you later, then,” Ellen said, giving me a little wave before striding toward her back door, Shandy trotting at her heels.
Reserved for Murder Page 1
