Reserved for Murder

by Victoria Gilbert

  I met her leveled gaze with a smile. “I know. It is a different thing. I just think that all her millions might rankle, given what both men write. Let’s face it—they’ve spent years researching and fact-checking to create their books, but don’t make a tenth of what she does. That has to sting a bit.”

  “But Scott doesn’t really need the money. You know his dad left him plenty. Not that he doesn’t work hard, but I don’t see why another author making boatloads off what is basically a romantic fantasy should bother him.”

  I tied up the garbage bag I was holding. “It’s more than money, though. There’s also the fame aspect. I assume Scott’s told you that he doesn’t want to write fiction because he doesn’t feel he can ever compete with his late father, who was one of the few authors who was a household name. But I’m sure that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t like a little more recognition.”

  “I suppose.” Julie trailed me over to one of the garbage bins. “And maybe that’s the thing that took me by surprise. I never expected Scott to chase after fame.”

  “I think we all want to be noticed, though, don’t we?” I tossed my bag of trash and wiped my hands on the paper towel I’d stuffed in my pocket. “Although, take it from me—fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  Julie shot me a side-eyed glance as we crossed the patio to join Alicia and Damian at the bar. “That’s right, escaping that sort of attention is one reason you decided to move here, isn’t it?”

  I nodded, acknowledging that, although many people sought fame, I’d run from it.

  I’d realized this truth about myself four years earlier, when my husband Brent had saved a schoolroom full of children and become a hero. Tragically, his bravery had cost him his life, leaving me a widow at the age of thirty-nine.

  Although I’d approved of all the honors posthumously bestowed on Brent, I wasn’t thrilled when his lingering fame had transferred to me. Not only was it a constant reminder of my loss; I also felt my own identity had been overshadowed. I’d been turned into a symbol of Brent’s sacrifice, and it seemed no one in my town could see me as anything beyond that. So, a little over two years ago, with the help of my inheritance from my great-aunt, I’d made a major life change. I gave up my high school teaching career and moved to Beaufort, North Carolina, to take over Chapters.

  “All done,” Alicia said, when Julie and I reached the tall counter we used as the patio’s bar. “If there isn’t anything else, I’d like to head inside and put my feet up.”

  “Looks good to me.” I pointed toward the baskets she and Damian had filled with bottles and barware. “If you’ll just take what you can carry when you go in, I’ll cart the rest in later.”

  “No need,” Damian said. “If Alicia will help, we can get everything in a couple of trips.”

  Alicia tugged up one drooping strap of her crisp white apron. “Sure thing. A lot of the bottles are empty, so it’s a lighter load now.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll just leave it to the experts then,” I said, before offering both of them a warm smile. “Thanks for all your assistance today. I know it was a lot of extra work.”

  Damian shrugged. “That’s why you pay us.”

  “Oh right, speaking of that …” I turned to Julie. “Can I get you a sandwich or something, or do you want to head home? I’ll understand if you’re ready to leave. I need to grab my checkbook so I can pay Damian, and then I’m going to go inside and crash.”

  “Thanks, I think I’ll head home,” Julie said, before thanking Damian and Alicia for their help with the event.

  “Need a hand with those boxes or anything?” Damian asked her.

  “No, Scott loaded all the extra stuff into my car before he left.” She flashed me a smile. “See—no real problem. The whole thing will blow over by morning.”

  “Good to know,” I said, before giving her a hug. “I’m glad everything went so well. A few minor issues are to be expected. Heaven knows we always have a couple during our special events.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Alicia muttered.

  I waited until Julie had driven off before running inside to grab my checkbook and write out a payment for Damian’s services. By the time I finished, he and Alicia had already brought all the baskets inside.

  “Just leave it,” I told Alicia, when she started to pull out items to set in the sink. “You deserve to take a break. I know you’ve been on your feet practically all day. I’ll take care of this later.”

  Alicia shot me a speculative look before thanking me and leaving the kitchen.

  I handed Damian his check and told him he was free to take off as well. “Really, I can handle unloading the baskets and all that. I think I’ll just take a short break before I do, though, so let me follow you back outside.”

  After Damian headed home to his apartment, which was located above the garage of a house only a few blocks away, I decided to take a stroll through the garden.

  It was my favorite time of day, especially in the summer. The days were filled with light late into the evening, while some of the heat had dissipated. I wandered the garden, finally pausing next to a hydrangea whose pom-pom flower clusters were as blue as the sky above me.

  “Charlotte, so glad to catch you without a multitude nearby,” a voice called out.

  I glanced across the fence to meet Ellen’s bright smile and wave. Her houseguest stood behind her, his hair glinting in the sun.

  Shandy yipped and bounced up against the posts as I approached the fence. “Hi, Ellen. I hope our event today wasn’t too disruptive.”

  Ellen brushed this aside with a wave of her hand. “Not at all. Of course, no one was here to be bothered. I was attending a garden club talk in New Bern, and Gavin had to pursue some mysterious mission at the county archives.” The look she shot the man standing next to her was as brittle as it was bright.

  There’s something going on here too, I thought. Something more complicated than a visiting relative.

  “It was research.” Gavin Howard’s voice, although pleasant, didn’t give away his background. He sounded like a professional newscaster—I couldn’t place an accent of any kind.

  His gaze swept over me. “Hello, I’m Gavin Howard, and you must be Charlotte Reed. Ellen’s mentioned you several times. I’m glad we could finally meet.” He popped off his sunglasses, revealing light brown eyes tinged with amber.

  “Hi, I’m glad to meet you as well. Ellen said you’re a cousin?” I allowed this question to hang in the air as I studied both their faces.

  Ellen’s smile had tightened into a thin line, and her eyes glittered like blue gems. She didn’t look happy. More tense than anything, I thought. It was odd. Very little seemed to unnerve Ellen Montgomery.

  On the other hand, Gavin Howard appeared completely at ease. He casually glanced at his watch. “Charlotte, I hope we’ll have a chance to chat sometime soon, but I’m afraid I must head back inside. I’m expecting an important phone call.” He flashed me a cool smile. “One that requires privacy.”

  I noticed Ellen stiffen at these words. Gavin sauntered back into the house. I started to say something, but Shandy, racing in circles until Gavin reached the door, barked so loudly that I was forced to remain silent. I waited until the little dog bounded back across the garden and plopped down at Ellen’s feet before speaking again.

  “Your cousin, you said?” I asked, with a lift of my eyebrows.

  Ellen’s right eyelid visibly twitched. “First cousin’s boy. Haven’t seen him in ages.”

  “I understand,” I said, although I didn’t. I suspected that Ellen was no more related to Gavin than I was, but decided to keep that suspicion to myself. “Well, you were fortunate to miss all the chaos earlier. We had quite a turnout for the Amanda Nobel event.”

  “I’m not surprised. She is famous.” Ellen dropped her taut shoulders and relaxed her expression. “And I didn’t miss everything. When I got home, I brought Shandy out into the garden to relieve himself and overhead something I found rath
er odd.”

  I brushed the velvety petals of one of my climbing roses with one finger. “Oh? What was that?”

  “A couple of young women swearing vengeance on Scott Kepler and his friend, Roger Warren.” Ellen wrinkled her nose. “Well, I say young. They were probably between thirty and forty, but of course, that seems young to me.”

  “Really?” I absently yanked a couple of petals off the rose.

  “Yes, I was quite surprised. I can’t imagine Scott or Roger doing anything that would evoke such fury. Still, one of the women—a tall, thin creature with short hair and glasses—said she planned to encourage everyone in some fan club to go on sites and one-star both the men’s books.” Ellen fanned her face with one hand. “A rather cruel thing to do to an author, I thought.”

  “It certainly would be.” I considered how this might affect Scott in particular. His history of the pirates who’d operated around Beaufort and the rest of the North Carolina coast had just been published. I didn’t know if Roger Warren had any recent releases, but if Lisette rallied Amanda’s fans to discredit either man’s books … I shook my head. “I hope no one else heard that.”

  “Unfortunately, the men in question did. While the women were speaking, Scott and Roger walked up and tried to apologize. Well, these gals were having none of that. The tall one told the men that they shouldn’t be surprised to see their books slide down into dumpster ratings on several review sites.”

  “Ouch,” I said. “What did Scott and Roger do after hearing that?”

  “Just backed away, I think.” Ellen smoothed her silver bob with one hand. “The truth is, I wasn’t in a position to see everything, because I was lurking behind that lilac over there. And yes, I know eavesdropping is frowned upon, but I was intrigued.”

  “Curiosity killed your commitment to good manners?”

  “Exactly.” Ellen cast me a roguish smile. “Admit it, you’d do the same.”

  I grinned. “I’m sure I would. But I do hope nothing unpleasant arises due to that little confrontation today,” I added, my tone sobering. “Just for context, both Roger and Scott challenged Amanda Nobel about her research, or lack thereof, during the Q and A portion of today’s event.”

  “That does clarify the situation,” Ellen said. “Hopefully, all the one-star talk was just blowing off steam. Roger and Scott would have a right to be angry, otherwise.”

  “I hope so too.” I tipped my head and examined Ellen for a moment. “Speaking of research, what sort of research is this cousin of yours doing? Is that the reason he’s staying in Beaufort?”

  Ellen shook her head. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you to become a sleuth.”

  Which, of course, didn’t answer my question. I eyed my neighbor, curious about her evasiveness. I could’ve pressed her, but decided against it. I knew she had secrets; some of which she probably wasn’t allowed to divulge. I had to respect her boundaries if I wanted to remain her friend and confidant.

  “I hope to talk to Gavin some other time, when he doesn’t have to run off to answer important phone calls.”

  “You may be waiting a while,” Ellen said dryly. “Come, Shandy, let’s go back inside. I imagine Charlotte’s tired of talking after all the hustle and bustle today.”

  I was tired, but not of talking. Not if it would explain Ellen’s obvious uneasiness around her houseguest. But that conversation could wait. Looking forward to a cold glass of wine and a light supper, I simply wished Ellen a good evening before she and the Yorkie trotted back into her house.

  I was relaxing in the front parlor a few hours later, reviewing Amanda’s first novel, The Tides of Time, so I could create some discussion questions for our book club meeting on Monday evening. As I worked, several times I heard the front door open and close with a creak. Each time, I looked up to see which of my guests had returned.

  Over the course of the evening I spotted Amanda, Tony, Molly, and Harper. None of them announced their return, preferring to slip in unnoticed and rush up the stairs to their respective rooms. Nor did they all return at the same time, which I found a little odd, since they had all gone out to dinner together. But perhaps they’d split up after the meal.

  When the clock chimed eleven, and Lisette still hadn’t returned, I rose to my feet with a sigh. We didn’t lock the door until everyone had returned from their evening pursuits, or at eleven, whichever came first. Anyone arriving later had to ring the bell for admittance. I didn’t encourage this, but since it happened fairly infrequently, I put up with it. As Alicia had informed me when I first took over Chapters, strictly enforcing a curfew could be viewed as inhospitable.

  But it was annoying to know that either Alicia or I would have to answer the doorbell and let Lisette in whenever she decided to return. I padded over to the front door and locked it before climbing the stairs and knocking on the door to Alicia’s suite. “Lisette Bradford isn’t back,” I told Alicia when she cracked open the door. “But don’t worry—I’ll take care of it tonight.” I pressed my copy of Tides of Time to my breast. “I still need to do a little more work before the book club meeting on Monday, anyway.”

  That wasn’t strictly true—I had completed writing down all my discussion questions. But it was enough to mollify Alicia, who wished me goodnight with relief stamped on her face.

  I went back downstairs and headed to my own bedroom. It was at the back of the house, but Great-Aunt Isabella had rigged the doorbell to ring in that room as well as in the hall. The bedroom bell was amplified, resounding like the chimes in a church tower, so there wasn’t any way I’d miss Lisette’s return.

  Which was why, when I sat up in bed, startled by the jangling of the landline phone, and glanced at the digital clock on my nightstand, I was shocked. It was three o’clock in the morning, far past the time I would’ve expected any guest to return to Chapters.

  The voice on the other end of the line surprised me as well.

  “Hello, Ms. Reed, I hate to bother you,” said Detective Amber Johnson, “but I’m afraid I have bad news.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, rubbing my eyes with my fist. My thoughts careened from one possibility to another. Had Julie been hurt, somehow? Or had Damian been struck by a car on his walk home and the accident just now discovered? I jumped out of bed and paced over to my window, which overlooked the quiet back patio and garden. There’d also been that interloper earlier—Lisette’s ex-husband. Perhaps he’d caused more trouble.

  Detective Johnson’s next words confirmed my fears.

  “It’s about Lisette Bradford. You told me earlier that her ex-husband, William, or Billy, as I believe he’s called, was spotted stalking Lisette at your author event.”

  “Has he shown up somewhere else?”

  “That’s the problem, we aren’t sure. We don’t know where he is, and we’d really like to.”

  “I haven’t seen him since then,” I said, squinting to peer out into my backyard, just to make sure. “Has he done something else?”

  “We aren’t certain, but we do need to talk to him. You see, just a little while ago”—Detective Johnson took an audible breath—“we pulled Lisette Bradford’s body out of the water near the Beaufort docks.”

  I gripped the window frame for support. “She’s dead?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “Maybe it was an accident?” I asked, hoping against hope that this was true. I’d had enough of murder for one lifetime.

  “I’m afraid not. Although it may not have been what killed her, there’s obvious trauma to the temple that’s not consistent with her falling and hitting her head on something. We’ll know more later, but my suspicion is that she was dead before she was tossed in the water.” Detective Johnson cleared her throat. “It’s why I wanted to alert you, as well as inform you about her death.”

  “Because Billy Bradford is still out there, somewhere?”

  “Yes, and it seems, from talking to people who overheard conversations at the restaurant where Ms. Bradford dined tonight, t
hat he isn’t our only viable suspect.”

  “Do I need to worry about my guests, then?”

  “I don’t think there’s any immediate danger. But I’d definitely keep your eyes and ears open and stay on your guard.”

  I stared at the phone receiver for a moment before speaking again. “Thank you for informing me. I’ll bear that in mind.”

  Detective Johnson’s stern tone softened. “Please do. Because I’m afraid that it’s quite possible that once again you might have a murderer sleeping beneath your roof.”

  Chapter Six

  Needless to say, I didn’t fall back asleep after that news. Instead, I headed into the kitchen to scrub things down that didn’t actually need cleaning.

  After exhausting myself to dull my anxiety, I showered and changed before helping Alicia serve breakfast to our guests. Not that many of them showed up for the meal—Amanda asked for coffee before disappearing back upstairs, and Molly and Harper didn’t even make an appearance. Tony was the only one who actually sat in the dining room, but he only wanted a couple of slices of toast along with his coffee.

  “Guess they must’ve heard the news from somewhere,” Alicia said, as she wrapped up a plate of uneaten cinnamon rolls.

  “I suppose.” I poured some coffee into a white ceramic mug before tipping the percolator into the sink to dispose of the rest. “Have you noticed any odd behavior from our guests, by the way?”

  “Odder than usual? Can’t say I have.” Alicia tapped her blunt fingernails against the counter. “So what—is this group of guests part of the investigation now? They were all out together last night, but surely that doesn’t automatically make them suspects.”

  “It was just something Detective Johnson said. I wanted to warn you …”

  Alicia huffed as she shoved the cinnamon rolls into a bread box. “To watch my back? As if I haven’t spent a lifetime doing that.”

  “It’s a little different when murder is involved.” I frowned as I realized how little I knew about Alicia’s life before Chapters. Because you never asked, I thought, flushing with embarrassment. Perhaps I had treated her more like something I’d inherited along with the house than a person with her own, independent life. At least, more than I liked to admit.