Reserved for Murder

by Victoria Gilbert

  “Well, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. You can depend upon that,” Alicia said.

  I stirred some cream into my coffee. “Probably a good idea.”

  Alicia didn’t respond, choosing to busy herself with cleaning off the counters I’d already scrubbed earlier. I took my mug and strolled into the library to sit and ponder the few facts I had concerning this latest murder. Surrounded by the thoughts of so many minds more brilliant than mine, I hoped I could sort out some of my confusion.

  It seemed someone else had the same idea. I discovered Harper slumped in one of the leather armchairs, a book lying open on her lap. But she was staring blankly at the shelves on the far wall instead of reading.

  “Sorry to bother you,” I said, pausing in the center of room. “I can leave if you’d rather be alone.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Harper motioned toward the chair facing hers. “Please, have a seat. I was just trying to take advantage of some of your fascinating books, but I’m afraid my mind doesn’t seem capable of comprehending written words right now.”

  “I understand the feeling.” I sat down, cradling my mug between my hands, and studied Harper’s face, which was pale but composed. “I know it must have been a shock to hear the news about Lisette. Did you know her well?”

  Harper shook her head. “Not really. We were mainly acquainted through online interactions. I was active in the fan club she managed, but we only met in person a couple of times, at some signings, or a few conventions where Amanda was a featured guest.”

  “But you were aware that her ex-husband was a problem?”

  Harper closed the book in her lap and rested her hands on the cover. “Definitely. And he was lurking around yesterday, as you saw.”

  “I suppose he is the most likely suspect. The police are actually looking for him as we speak.”

  Harper lowered her gaze onto the book in her lap. “I imagine they have him at the top of their list, but there were tons of Amanda Nobel fans at the event yesterday, and I bet a lot them stayed in the area overnight.”

  I eyed her with interest over the rim of my mug. “But why would any of them want to harm Lisette Bradford?”

  As Harper dipped her head, her dark hair fell forward, veiling her face. “That’s the thing; some of them might have a motive. You wouldn’t know this, but there was a pretty vicious online feud in the fandom a few years ago.”

  I sipped my coffee and considered this information before speaking. “In the fan club run by Lisette?”

  “It started there.” Harper straightened, tossing her hair behind her shoulders. “Like Molly and I mentioned before, Lisette wrote a lot of fan fiction based on the Tides series. She often promoted it in the club.”

  “It wasn’t good?” I asked, curious about the segue.

  “It was actually pretty decent. The thing was, she didn’t simply draw on Amanda’s characters and themes and use them as a jumping off point for her own work, she was adept at copying Amanda’s writing style. A lot of fans enjoyed reading her stuff.” Harper shrugged. “It filled their need for more content in between the release of the actual Amanda Nobel novels.”

  “Was Amanda unhappy about it? I know some authors disapprove of fan fiction, while others don’t mind.”

  “She seemed okay with it, from what I could tell.” Harper drummed her fingers against the book cover. “Maybe she was flattered, or maybe she didn’t even realize it existed, I don’t know. But I never heard her condemn fan fiction in general, or Lisette’s works in particular.”

  “This fan infighting wasn’t about that, then?”

  “Not precisely.” Harper cleared her throat. “I kind of hate to even bring it up, but if someone who was here yesterday was still angry …”

  “You think it’s possible one of them killed Lisette? But why? What did Lisette do, or not do, as part of this fan war?”

  “She was accused of plagiarism,” Harper said, meeting my intent gaze with a lift of her chin. “Stealing from another fan fiction author, to be precise.”

  I sat back in my chair. “And did she?”

  Harper stood and carried the book she was holding to one of the library shelves. “Hard to say, or prove, anyway. The person she supposedly stole from used an invented name, as did most of the people in the group. That writer disappeared completely once most of the fans rallied behind Lisette. I heard they wiped their stories from all the fan fiction sites, and since no one knew their real name, they really couldn’t be traced.” Harper turned to face me. “At least not by anyone I talked to.”

  “I don’t quite follow,” I said. “Were there people supporting the supposedly plagiarized author, who were shut down by those backing Lisette?”

  “Basically yes.” Harper leaned against the cabinet that sat beneath the ceiling-high range of shelves. “The thing was, this fan fiction writer only posted one or two stories, while Lisette had dozens. So when a reader accused Lisette of lifting the concept and even passages from someone else’s story, that other author didn’t have the readership to rally behind them. Lisette did.”

  “And you think this fan fiction author or one of their supporters might still hold a grudge.”

  “It’s possible. Lisette and her followers even turned the tables, saying the other writer had stolen from her.” Harper rolled her shoulders. “Things got pretty ugly. It drove numerous people out of the group and caused a lot of hard feelings that spilled over into other Amanda Nobel fan clubs. Or so I’m told. I have to confess that I didn’t join Lisette’s group until after all this went down. But I heard rumors and checked it out online. There’s still discussion and documentation available on various sites if you look hard enough.”

  “So you didn’t experience this directly.” I sighed. “You should still talk to the police, but if all your info is secondhand …”

  “I know. They might not take it as seriously. That’s what I’ve been debating ever since I heard the news about Lisette. But”—Harper fixed me with an intense stare—“don’t you think it’s worth mentioning, given the fact that so many fans were in the area yesterday? Any one of them might been involved in that online drama, which could’ve led to a fight with Lisette.”

  “An argument that led to a murder?”

  “Right. I’m not suggesting that someone came here specifically to kill Lisette. At least not if it was one of the fans. Now, Billy Bradford is another thing entirely. From what I could tell, Lisette was really afraid of him.”

  I took a long swallow of my coffee as I filed away all the information Harper had shared. One thing was certain—there was more than one person who might’ve had it in for Lisette Bradford. But don’t forget Detective Johnson’s warning about your own guests, I told myself.

  Which was why I didn’t question Harper about the dinner she’d shared with Amanda and the others the previous night. Instead. I rose to my feet, clutching my now empty mug to my chest. “I definitely think you should tell the authorities what you just told me. As you said, there were other people who might have a motive to kill Lisette, and some of them could’ve been in Beaufort yesterday.”

  Harper flashed a sad smile. “Thanks. That was what I needed help deciding. I mean, that’s why I brought it up with you. I wasn’t sure if I should mention all that fan club stuff to the police, but since you seem to think it might help …” She lifted her hands. “Guess I will.”

  “I think that’s a good move. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see if there’s anything I can do for the other guests.” I turned and crossed the library, pausing at the door to add, “I hope the rest of your day goes much better.”

  “Pretty much guaranteed to, isn’t it?” Harper said as I left the room.

  I wandered into the pantry and deposited my mug in our commercial dishwasher. Spying no other guests, I decided to head outside. I was sure the police would arrive any minute to question me as well as Alicia and our guests, and I wanted to enjoy a little fresh air before facing that ordeal.

  As
I paused on the edge of the patio, I heard Ellen call my name.

  “Charlotte,” she said, waving me over to the gate that led into her back yard and garden, “Come talk to me.”

  “Wouldn’t mind picking your brain, actually,” I replied, as I jogged over to join her.

  “I was so sorry to hear about the death of your guest,” Ellen said, as she ushered me into her yard.

  “Murder, it seems.” I glanced around, surprised to see no evidence of Shandy.

  “Really?” Ellen arched her brows. “They know this already?”

  “Apparently she sustained a blow to the head before she was dumped in the water. At least according to Detective Johnson.”

  “Oh dear, another murder on your doorstep.” Ellen led the way into her garden. “Here, have a seat,” she added, motioning toward a white wooden bench.

  “At least it didn’t happen at Chapters, but since it involves one of my guests …” I sighed heavily as I sat down.

  “Very unfortunate.” Ellen pulled off her straw hat and dropped it in her lap as she sat beside me. “I understand the woman was the primary one vowing vengeance on Scott and Roger too.”

  I shot her a sharp glance. “You don’t think one of them would kill her over such a thing?”

  “I don’t,” Ellen said, fanning herself with her hat, “but I’m afraid the police might.”

  I clasped my hands in my lap. “Only if you talk to them.”

  “Which I must, of course. And I’m sure you’ll feel compelled to confess the same. Right?” She side-eyed me.

  “I wish I’d never heard you say anything about it,” I replied. “But there are other suspects. More likely ones, such as the disgruntled ex-husband who showed up uninvited.”

  “I heard the police were looking for him.” Ellen stopped fanning and placed the hat back in her lap before shifting on the bench to look me in the eye. “Are there more? Come now, we’re a sleuthing team. You must tell me.”

  “Detective Johnson mentioned something about diners overhearing an odd conversation between Amanda and her entourage when they were at a restaurant last night.”

  Ellen stretched her legs, shaking out the folds in her loose navy and red sail-patterned pants. “All your current guests are on the list? It’s like déjà vu.”

  “Unfortunately,” I said, thinking back on the events of the previous summer. “I don’t know all the particulars, but it seems Amanda, Tony, Molly, and Harper must be added to our suspect list.”

  “Along with … what was his name? Billy something?”

  “William Bradford, who apparently goes by Billy. Lisette’s ex.”

  “Ah, yes.” Ellen’s garnet-painted toenails sparkled as she wiggled her feet in her open-toed canvas sandals. “That’s seven possible suspects then—Scott, Roger, Billy Bradford, Amanda, Tony, Harper, and Molly.”

  “You can’t really suspect Scott.” I squinched up my nose in distaste.

  “He has a motive,” Ellen said. “Not sure about his opportunity, though. If he was with Julie and she can vouch for him, perhaps we should let him off the hook.”

  “That won’t help.” I leaned back against the bench and stared up at the cloudless sky. “He wasn’t with Julie, at least not the entire evening. She stayed at Chapters for a while after he left. She also mentioned that Scott and Roger were going out to dinner together, so I don’t know. Maybe he came home early and she can clear him due to the time of death, but maybe not.”

  “Someone would have seen him dining with Roger, perhaps?”

  “That’s possible. I hope that’s the case. But honestly, the whole thing is more complicated than you know. There were more than seven people who possibly had motive or opportunity in this case.” I took a deep breath before detailing the information that Harper had shared about a serious conflict in the Amanda Nobel fandom.

  “That does muddy the waters,” Ellen said, when I’d concluded my story. “From what you’ve told me, it could’ve been any one in that large group gathered at Chapters yesterday.

  “Sadly, yes. Of course, I’ll let the authorities know about that possibility, as I’m sure Harper will. Not that it will be particularly helpful to their case. We do have the names of all the registered attendees, but it’s a long list, and most of them have probably already left the area.”

  “The police will have plenty of investigating to do, that’s for sure.” Ellen gave me a wink. “Which is why they shouldn’t mind if we help them out. Unofficially, of course.”

  “But what can we really do?” I asked absently, my attention diverted by the monarch butterfly flitting through Ellen’s bed of fringe-petaled crimson bee balm.

  “Well, Julie has some contacts in the book world. Perhaps she could find out more about Ms. Nobel and Mr. Lott. Any rumors of problems with Lisette or her fan club, I mean.”

  “That’s true. And I did overhear an interaction between Tony and Lisette that indicated some animosity between them.” I turned my head to look at Ellen. “I could check into that fan war Harper mentioned. She said there was still info about it, if one dug deep enough. I know enough about researching online to turn that stuff up, if it exists.”

  “Good. As for me, I have several contacts in town who can help me check out Roger Warren’s background. I can certainly find out if he’s the type to retaliate if someone attacks him professionally.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I gnawed on the inside of my cheek for a moment. “I think we can leave Billy Bradford to the police. They’re already on his trail.”

  “A reasonable assumption. Now, as for Scott …” Glancing over my shoulder, Ellen broke off her sentence. “Oh, hello Gavin. Back so soon?”

  “Shandy decided he’d had enough.” Gavin Howard, holding tightly to the end of the Yorkie’s leash, stepped around to face us. “Hello, Charlotte. Nice to see you again.”

  “Hi,” I said, pasting on a smile. Even if I hadn’t already decided to fall silent, Ellen’s swift look had warned me against continuing our previous conversation. “So you’re the dog walker now?”

  “Apparently.” Gavin bent down and unhooked Shandy’s leash from his harness. “Go on then, you rascal. Run amok like you’ve been wanting to do all along.”

  Shandy happily followed this suggestion, dashing off to run circles around the garden beds.

  “Thank you for taking him along on your walk,” Ellen said.

  Gavin ran his hand through his hair, pushing a few drooping curls off his damp forehead. “No problem. I needed to check out the boat anyway.”

  “Gavin has a cabin cruiser moored at the Beaufort docks.” Ellen’s tone was conversational, but her eyes seemed wary. “Not sure why he didn’t want to bunk there, but I suppose one occasionally gets tired of living on the water.”

  “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to enjoy your hospitality, Ellen,” Gavin said, his tone much lighter than his expression. “Besides, as I told you, it was a better base for the work I needed to do while I was here.”

  “And what work is that, Mr. Howard?” I asked, fixing him with an inquiring stare.

  “Historical research,” he replied, meeting my gaze without faltering. “And please, it’s Gavin, not Mr. Howard.”

  I could feel Ellen stiffen beside me. “Well, Gavin, I must be going,” I said, as I stood to face him. “I suppose you heard about the murder of someone who was lodging at Chapters?”

  “I saw all the activity down near the docks,” he replied, his eyes narrowing. “I had to navigate the police perimeter, although it fortunately didn’t prevent access to my boat.”

  I looked him over, realizing there was an unusual air of intensity about this man—a certain coiled energy, and a glint in his eyes that reminded me of an animal constantly on guard against danger.

  I squared my shoulders as I shook such foolish thoughts from my mind. “Thankfully it didn’t happen at my house. But I’m sure the police will be along any minute now to question me as well as my staff and guests, since we were acquainted
with the victim.”

  Gavin inclined his head. “My sympathies. Interrogations are never fun.”

  “You sound like you know that from experience.” I circled around him to reach the garden gate.

  Instead of answering, Gavin laid a hand on my arm. “Take care,” he said, before lifting his fingers and stepping back.

  “Thank you,” I replied as I strode past, calling, “See you later, Ellen,” over my shoulder.

  “You should be careful,” I heard Ellen say before I walked out of earshot.

  I didn’t think she was speaking to me.

  Chapter Seven

  After giving my statement to the police when they stopped by to question everyone at Chapters, I decided to walk to Julie’s shop. Located in an older, two-story wooden building next to the boardwalk that skirted the docks, Bookwaves was a small store, with an expansive picture window that Julie decorated in keeping with the seasons or holidays.

  In fact, as I approached the bright blue front door, I noticed Julie reworking her window display. She was changing it from a red, white, and blue salute to the Fourth of July to something aqua and indigo and sparkly.

  Apparently glimpsing my wave through the window, Julie stepped away from her half-finished display to greet me at the door. “Hi there. Looking for a book or for a chat?”

  “The latter,” I said, breathing in the lovely scent of new books that filled the shop. “Although you know whenever I step foot in a bookstore, I’ll probably end up buying something.”

  “Not that I mind.”

  “What’s it going to be this time?” I asked, motioning toward the display.

  “A celebration of mermaids and other fanciful tales related to the sea.” Julie wiped her fingers over her Bookwaves apron, dusting some glitter from her fingers. “Highlighting children’s books, mostly. I wanted to evoke something light and fun, and a lot of young adult or adult titles that feature mermaids tend to be pretty dark these days.”