Reserved for Murder

by Victoria Gilbert

  But I suspected this was no guest. The one person who probably had the ability, and inclination, to not only pick the lock to one of the back doors but also jimmy the attic door was staying at Ellen’s house, not mine.

  I crept up the stairs, phone in hand, my finger hovering over the key that would instantly call 911. If my intruder was who I suspected, I wasn’t afraid he’d harm me, but there was that little twinge of doubt. What if Billy Bradford had decided to hide out at Chapters so he could sneak down later and attack Amanda or any of Lisette’s fan club acquaintances?

  Before I reached the top of the steps, I leaned back against the rough wood of the stairwell wall and peered up, hoping to catch sight of the intruder without them seeing me. At first all I could see were shadows dancing over the timbered ceiling, but then I caught a glimpse of someone bending down to open a trunk. I could only see their back, but it was enough to tell me who was rummaging through my attic. The light brown, curly hair was a dead giveaway.

  Just as I was about to call out Gavin’s name, something silenced me—a pressure on my skin, as if someone had laid a hand on my shoulder. I snapped my mouth shut and delicately picked my way back down the stairs, almost expecting to see someone waiting on the second floor. But of course, no one was there.

  I rubbed the spot where I could swear I’d felt the touch of fingers and considered my next move. Gavin apparently had been too engaged in his snooping to notice me, which meant I might be able to escape without him realizing I’d caught him in the act.

  That gives you the advantage, I thought, as I slipped back down the stairs to the first floor. Even though I longed to confront Gavin over breaking into Chapters and rifling through my great-aunt’s things, something told me that it was better to confer with Ellen first. She might want to use this knowledge as leverage against him.

  I shook my head. It was certainly not a typical train of thought for me. I wasn’t given to subterfuge. It’s almost like someone else is in your head right now, I thought, as I stuck my bare feet back into my sandals and exited the house through the front door. I wasn’t worried about leaving the house unlocked. I was sure Gavin would lock up behind him, if only to cover his tracks.

  I was convinced he wasn’t going to steal anything either, unless it was information related to Isabella’s past activities. And frankly, I didn’t really care about that. If some U.S. intelligence agency wanted to ferret out evidence of my great-aunt’s past mistakes, they were welcome to it. She wasn’t around to be harmed by such a thing, and surely, they wouldn’t dare tarnish her reputation by announcing their clandestine operations to the world.

  Although there’s still Ellen, I thought, as I climbed into my car. Pausing for a moment before I drove away, I dialed her number on my cell phone.

  She didn’t answer, and I was leery of leaving a message about such a thing. I would check in with her when I returned from the market.

  Hopefully her house guest would have fled my home by then.

  * * *

  Gavin was gone and all the doors were locked tight when I returned to Chapters about an hour later. I called Ellen but still got no answer, so I decided I’d better put away my groceries, which included several frozen items, before trying again. Just as I tossed the last package of frozen spinach into the freezer, my phone rang.

  “Hey, glad I could catch you,” said Julie. “I have some interesting news to share.”

  “Oh?” I locked the freezer and wandered into the kitchen. “What might that be?”

  “Remember how I said I’d check with my publishing peeps about Amanda Nobel and Tony and all? Well, I just heard a couple of juicy rumors.”

  “Involving that fan war thing?” I asked, as I poured myself a glass of ice water.

  “No, everyone thought that was old news. This is something that’s churning through the rumor mill right now.”

  I sat down at the small café table in the kitchen where Alicia and I usually took our meals. “So it’s not a secret?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. The person who told me this story said it’s pretty hush-hush. I mean, there are rumors circulating and some chatter, but no one actually has any proof that it’s true.” Julie drew in a breath before continuing. “Anyway, that thirteenth book that Amanda mentioned? Apparently, there’s talk that it’s been ghostwritten. The scuttlebutt is that Amanda created the outline and checked over the final draft, but someone else wrote the bulk of the manuscript. And guess who that someone might be—none other than our murder victim, Lisette Bradford.”

  I leapt back to my feet. “Wait a minute. Are you saying that Lisette was hired to write a book in the Tides series?”

  “Exactly. It’s the next one coming out, book thirteen. My contact said Lisette had written a lot of fan fiction that was well-received, and she thought maybe that’s why she was chosen as a ghostwriter.”

  “Is that typical?”

  “No, not really. But it has been known to happen. Fan fiction turning into major deals, at least. Anyway, that’s the first rumor I wanted to share.”

  “There’s more?” I asked, my mind racing as I considered this new information in light of the argument I’d overheard between Amanda and Tony. Maybe Amanda did have a reason to be jealous of Lisette, after all. If she’d written the outline and approved the draft, she had to know what was going on, but perhaps she was forced into doing that …

  “As for the other rumor, it has to do with Tony Lott. Apparently, there’s a rumor that he had a fling with Lisette Bradford about a year or so ago. They met at fan-based events from time to time and supposedly hooked up. To be fair, this was after her divorce.”

  “Really?” I cleared my throat. “Well, that might explain their obvious dislike for one another, especially if it ended badly.”

  “Very badly, if the rumors are true. A few people observed an extremely ugly breakup at a conference not long ago. And apparently it was Lisette doing the dumping.”

  Which gives Tony Lott an even stronger motive for murder, I thought, before asking Julie for more information on the ghostwriting rumor.

  “What I’ve already told you is all I really know. Like I said, it’s just rumors. And no one associated with the publisher is going to confirm such a thing.”

  “If you think about it, Tony has been very careful when discussing book thirteen, I mean, the next Tides book.” I thought back on his comments at the book club discussion. “He also cut Amanda off when she tried to talk about a new, and different, book. Something obviously not related to the Tides series.”

  “Probably because he wants the focus to remain on her successful series,” Julie said. “It’s a real cash cow for everyone involved. I’m sure he thinks that talking about something else, especially something new and unproven, isn’t the best strategy.”

  “But if this ghostwriting rumor is out there, won’t Amanda’s fans find out about it?”

  “Not necessarily. Maybe her mega-fans will hear something, but not the average reader, and definitely not the TV show audience. And I’m sure, like most of these publishing rumors, it will be contradicted by other powerful forces.”

  “Like Amanda’s publisher or the producers of the TV show, no doubt.”

  “Honestly, ghostwriting happens all the time. Most people don’t realize how much.” Julie cleared her throat. “I do have an inside track, but it’s not like I feel I can provide this information to anyone besides you.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to spread rumors, even if they are probably circulating widely already.” I sighed. Just to be sure to protect Julie, and her unknown source, I’d have to consider some way to put Detective Johnson on this trail without being too obvious. Perhaps I could just suggest that her team look into any rumors about Amanda Nobel floating around in the murky seas of the publishing business.

  I would tell Ellen, though. This information had to be included as part of our amateur investigation.

  “Oh, by the way, Amanda is signing book stock for me later this
afternoon. When she texted me she asked that I let you know, because she’d be returning from that boat tour you arranged a little later than the others.”

  “Okay,” I said, wondering why Amanda hadn’t mentioned this to me directly, rather than relaying a message through Julie. Or why she thought she had to say anything about it, I thought, after wishing Julie a good day and finishing our call. I don’t keep tabs on my guests during the day. Maybe she just wanted to be polite, keeping me apprised of her whereabouts so I wouldn’t worry if the others returned without her.

  Or perhaps she was testing me—seeing if I’d be tempted to snoop through her suite if I thought she wouldn’t return until much later? If she thought I’d overheard something significant in her argument with Tony, she might be worried about my next move and, as I had with Gavin, had figured out a way to set a trap to confirm her suspicions.

  I pressed my palms against my temples. Now I was seeing conspiracies everywhere. I really had to get a grip.

  One more failed attempt to reach Ellen by phone forced me to leave a cryptic message about needing to see her whenever she was free, before I decided to forget all this murder and espionage business for a while. Instead, I phoned my younger sister Melinda in New York.

  “Hey, Mel, how’s it going?”

  “Fine.” I could tell by Mel’s suspicious tone that she was surprised by my call. “Anything wrong on your end?”

  “Not, not really.” I debated bringing up the murder but decided against it. I knew Mel had just completed a major costume design project for an off-Broadway show and was in the middle of talks for a new project. Not to mention the fact that her wife, Beatrice, had given birth to their first child only a few months before. “I just wanted to check in and see how you and Bea were doing, and what my niece is up to these days.”

  “A lot of sleeping and pooping and crying,” Mel said before adding in a warmer tone, “and being totally adorable, of course.”

  “Of course. I can’t wait to see her again. I bet she’s changed a lot already.”

  “From when you saw her as a newborn? Absolutely. She still has that head of dark hair, though. Bea says she was the same as a baby.” Mel must’ve held the phone away from her face because I heard her shout something but couldn’t distinguish the words. “Sorry, I’ve got some of the team here to talk about our plans for the Shakespeare in the Park show I told you about—the Scottish play.”

  I grinned, remembering that theatre people thought it bad luck to say Macbeth. “Is that a definite thing, then?”

  “On top of everything else.” Mel sighed dramatically. “Of course, I’m not going to complain. Too much work is always better than none, especially in this business. And at least we can meet at the apartment, so I can stay with Irene.”

  “Is Bea back at work?”

  “Not full-time, but yeah, she’s at a meeting with a client today. Hold on, I’ll be right there,” Mel called out before lowering her voice again. “Sorry, the director sent over some notes and we’re talking concepts today.”

  “I’ll let you go then. I just wanted to check in and, well, hear a friendly voice, I guess.”

  “Seriously, is everything okay? You seem kind of off,” Mel said, concern lacing her tone.

  “Everything’s fine. I mean, I’m dealing with guests as per usual. And it doesn’t help that it’s so hot here. I guess I’m just exhausted.”

  “Tell me about it.” Mel sniffed. “Sorry, my allergies are going wild. Anyway, sorry I can’t talk longer right now. I’ll call you sometime soon, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said, tightening my fingers around the phone. For some reason, I didn’t want to hang up. “Tell Bea hi and give Reenie a kiss for me.”

  “Will do,” Mel said.

  I stared at the phone for a moment, wondering why I felt suddenly bereft. Perhaps it was because my family was scattered across the country—Mel and Bea and Irene in New York, my older sister, Sophie, and her family in California, and my parents in Virginia.

  Or perhaps, I thought as I pocketed the phone, it’s just the normalcy Mel represents. No murders or snooping spies, except on the stage. Where they belong.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ellen returned my call around lunchtime, explaining that she’d been out buying groceries when I’d tried to phone her earlier.

  “Gavin left this morning, saying he was going to be out on his boat most of the day, so I thought it was a good time to leave the house,” Ellen said.

  “Boat, huh? Well, maybe that’s where he is now, but …” I took a deep breath before detailing my discovery of Gavin rummaging through the trunks and boxes in Chapters’s attic.

  I didn’t have to see her face to know that Ellen was livid. Her voice shook with anger. “You would’ve been within your rights to call the police on him. Breaking and entering is still a crime, even for a government agent.”

  “True, but I thought it might be better to hold off and offer you some leverage over him. Maybe if you threaten him with my taking legal action, he’ll actually tell you what he’s up to.” I drummed my fingers against the kitchen countertop. “One thing still confuses me—why do you have to allow him to stay at your house? I know he’s digging into past operations that might’ve involved you as well as Isabella, but now that you’re retired …”

  “As I’ve mentioned before, no one really retires from my line of work. Not entirely.” Ellen’s sharp tone softened. “I was ordered to provide him with a base of operations. To refuse could’ve made things worse.”

  “It would have made it look like you had something to hide?”

  “Yes. And I thought my willingness to help might mitigate any … negative information he digs up.”

  “Is there any?” I asked, before I could stop myself. “I mean, do you have any skeletons rattling around in closets I should know about?” I punctuated this question with a nervous laugh.

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Ellen sighed. “Anyway, I appreciate you thinking of me, but I still say you have every right to confront Gavin about breaking into your house. If he needed to search your attic, I’m sure you would’ve allowed it, if I vouched for his actual identity. At any rate, he could’ve asked.”

  “I don’t know what he might’ve found this morning. Maybe you should query him about that. Catch him off guard by letting him know you’re aware of his clandestine activities.”

  “I might just do that.”

  A fleeting shadow made me start and glance out one of the kitchen windows. It was just a bird flitting by, of course. Your nerves are frayed as an old rope, I thought, before deciding that I wanted to take a walk. Some fresh air would clear my head, and if I wandered down to Front Street, I knew the waterfront vista would calm me.

  “Listen,” I told Ellen. “I wonder if you could do me a tremendous favor?”

  “Certainly, if it’s within my power.”

  “I’d like to take a walk, but I don’t want to leave the house locked up with no one here. Alicia’s off today, and I’m afraid some of my guests might return from their boat excursion before I get back. Do you think you could come over and stay here while I’m out? You’re welcome to bring Shandy along, if that’s an issue.”

  “I’d be happy to do that, and Shandy will be fine in his crate for a few hours.” Ellen’s tone brightened. “I can spend some time in the library. I never get tired of perusing Isabella’s books.”

  “Thanks so much. I really feel like I need a little break. Maybe I’ll go and visit Julie at the shop or something.”

  “Excellent idea. Hold on, I’ll take Shandy out and then pop over.”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” I said.

  “It’s really no bother. I wouldn’t mind a little change of scenery myself,” Ellen said, before hanging up.

  While I waited for Ellen to arrive, I changed into a gauzy white cotton blouse and aqua-blue linen slacks. I also switched out my sandals for a pair of sturdy tennis shoes. I wanted to make sure I had the appropriate footwear for a hike.<
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  When Ellen was safely ensconced in the library, and after I gained her promise to attend Friday’s tea and cocktail parties as a secret interrogator, I headed out the front door, locking it behind me. She’d easily hear the doorbell if any guests returned before I did.

  My feet carried me toward the water, which wasn’t unusual. I found the waterfront soothing and visited it whenever I felt anxious or upset. Reaching the midway point on the boardwalk, I decided to stop by Bookwaves to see if Julie was available for a chat. I knew she often ran the shop by herself during part of the afternoon so that Dayna, her only full-time employee, could take a class at the local community college.

  But as soon as I stepped inside Bookwaves, I realized Julie wasn’t alone. Of course, I remembered, Amanda promised to sign books today.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I raised my voice over the jangling of the bell that hung from the top of the front door.

  Amanda looked up at me over a stack of hardback books. “Don’t worry. I’m just signing stock for Julie to sell later.”

  Julie waved a sheet of stickers that read autographed copy. “Which is entirely too kind, especially when you’re supposed to be on vacation.”

  “An author’s work is never done,” Amanda replied as she flexed the fingers holding her pen. “Besides when you sell books, I make money too. I’m happy to aid that process.”

  “As if anything extra is required. Your books will fly off the shelves regardless,” Julie said, before turning to me. “Is there something you needed, Charlotte?”

  “Just passing by.” I pointed to my walking shoes. “Thought I’d get out of the house for some fresh air and exercise while my guests enjoyed a boat trip. Although I suppose they’re already back in port, if Amanda is here.”

  Amanda completed her signature with a flourish and closed the book she was signing. “I think that’s all of them. But perhaps you’d better check behind me, Julie. I sometimes miss one or two if there’s a big stack.”