The Grim Reader

by Kate Carlisle

  “We were a little flustered at the time,” Meg explained.

  “Of course you were,” I hastened to say, not wanting to upset them. “It’s just that it was such a shock to see Lawson lying there.”

  “Oh, it was a shock to us, too,” Mom said.

  “To be honest,” I said quietly, “I had just assumed the victim would be Jacob Banyan.”

  “That would make more sense, wouldn’t it?” Mom said. “Funny, though. I have Banyan pegged as the killer.”

  Mom sure had the lingo down, if nothing else.

  We heard heavy footsteps approaching in the hallway.

  “We’re down here,” Mom called out.

  The first one to walk into the room was Gabriel. He saw me and said, “Babe.”

  “Gabriel.” Still a little wobbly, I stood and wrapped my arms around him. “Thanks for being here.”

  “Where else would I be?” he said simply.

  Following close behind him were two uniformed officers, a man and a woman, plus another man in street clothes.

  In a strategic move, Gabriel shot a meaningful look at Derek and said, “Commander Stone, I’d like to introduce you to Detective Steve Willoughby. And these are Officers Kristin Jenkins and Matthew Steuben.”

  “How do you do?” Derek said, his voice going into full James Bond mode as he first shook the detective’s hand, then turned to shake hands with both officers.

  “Commander,” the detective murmured.

  I blinked. “Stevie?”

  The detective frowned, then his eyes widened. “Brooklyn?”

  “Look at you,” I said softly. “All grown up and wearing a tie.”

  “And you look . . . great,” he said. “Wow. What are the chances?”

  Stevie had no way of knowing, but the chances were pretty good when it came to me showing up around a dead body. It was sad but true.

  “I thought you moved back east,” I said.

  “Minneapolis,” he corrected. “I was on the force for ten years before moving back home to take this job.”

  “I hear it gets cold in Minneapolis,” I said lamely.

  He grinned. “You have no idea.”

  Even as far back as grade school, Stevie had been the all-American boy next door, friendly and blond and cute as could be. He was tall and muscular, a natural athlete. My mother always liked him because he was so polite. I hoped that was still the case. He was still blond and cute, for sure. And he was tall, though not as tall as Derek. Or as muscular. Not that I was comparing the two men, because there was no comparison when it came to Derek.

  I turned to Derek. “Stevie—I mean—Detective Willoughby, and I went to grammar school together.”

  “Good to know,” Derek said.

  “Commander Stone is my husband,” I said quickly.

  “Well, well,” Stevie said. “Congratulations to you both.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  I glanced at Gabriel, who was grinning broadly. And that was when I remembered why we were all here. Good grief. That concludes tonight’s session of crime scene chitchat, I thought.

  “Commander,” Gabriel said. “Will you show Detective Willoughby and the officers where the body is?”

  “Certainly.” Derek caught my gaze and winked, then ushered them out of the room and down the hall.

  At the door, Stevie glanced back. “If you’ll all remain here until we can get your statements, I would appreciate it.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Then he disappeared down the hall.

  “Well, that was strange,” I muttered.

  “Not at all, dear.” Mom smiled. “Stevie Willoughby grew up quite nicely, didn’t he?”

  I could barely keep from rolling my eyes. And yet I had been thinking the same thing. “Yeah, he did, Mom.”

  “I wonder if he’s married.”

  “Mom!”

  “We could introduce him to Annie,” she said innocently.

  “She’s dating Presley, remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Well, we’ll think of someone for him.”

  “He might be married, Mom.”

  “We’ll find out.”

  “I’m sure we will.” Because Becky Wainwright was on the case.

  * * *

  • • •

  My dad and John arrived a couple minutes later and joined us in the waiting room. While the parents talked quietly, I was thinking. I hated to admit that I was very nearly disappointed to find that Banyan wasn’t the victim. And what, I wondered, does that say about me? That, though, was a question for a different time. The one we needed answers to now was “So why was Lawson killed?”

  Dad and John had gone down the hall to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, so my question was aimed at the moms.

  I thought it was helpful that Gabriel knew the cops well enough that they allowed him to hang out on the periphery of the crime scene. It was also really nice that Stevie and the officers were showing the same sort of respect for Derek as the San Francisco cops had always shown him.

  I, on the other hand, got bupkes, even though I’d been Detective Stevie Willoughby’s fourth-grade crush. And lest they forgot, I was married to the Commander! Clearly, those important points had no bearing on my status around here and my chances of being in on their assessment of the crime scene.

  “I have no idea why anyone would want to hurt poor old Lawson,” Mom said softly. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Not fair at all,” Meg said. “He seemed like a congenial sort of fellow.”

  “He is,” Mom insisted. “I mean, he was. He’s been in the Fellowship forever, so that counts for something.” She suddenly glanced at me and I knew she was thinking of a certain Fellowship member who had proven herself capable of cold-blooded murder. So membership didn’t necessarily count for anything, unfortunately. But I refused to think about that right now.

  “Of course,” Mom continued, “Lawson wasn’t the best co-chair in the world, but he wasn’t terrible. At least he wasn’t a bully like Jacob Banyan or a mean witch like Saffron Bergeron. He was just . . . Lawson.”

  “If that’s true, then his death doesn’t make any sense.” I kept going back to what I’d heard Banyan say to Lawson yesterday. Good grief, was it only yesterday? You’re nothing but a thief and a liar. What did that mean? What did Banyan think Lawson had stolen? What did he think Lawson had lied about?

  And now I had to ask myself the burning question: Did Jacob Banyan kill Lawson?

  “Mom, you said that Lawson handled all the money for the festival.”

  “Yes, and he seemed to be doing a decent job, as far as I know.”

  “As far as you know?” I repeated, truly confused now. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you know what kind of job he’s doing?”

  “Because, sweetie, we’re handling two distinctly separate parts of the festival. I’m taking care of speakers and schedules and those sorts of things. Who gets which booth and where each booth should be situated, you know. I’ve booked all the authors and speakers and vintners, and let’s see, I’ve ordered books for anyone who’s speaking or signing during the three days of the festival. I’m also supervising the other committee members who are handling the schedules and the details of publicity and marketing and all the banners and flyers. There’s so much that goes into an event like this. Oh, and all the food and beverage vendors, too.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot,” I said, impressed that Mom had taken on so much. “And what was Lawson handling?”

  “He was taking care of all the rest of it. Supplies and equipment, mainly. He had to order the booths themselves, of course, and the chairs and tables that go inside the booths. And there are the porta-potties, the trash cans, the benches and chairs that we’ll line up around the perimeter to allow for seating. Plus linens, tablecloths, all
those sorts of things. He was supervising a number of committee members himself, too.”

  “So why would Banyan call him a thief and a liar?”

  “Oh, honey,” she said with a sigh. “That didn’t mean anything. Banyan is simply an awful person with an ugly mind.”

  “So you didn’t hear any complaints from anyone about their bills not being paid on time?”

  “No complaints at all. But then again, I’m not dealing with the same people that Lawson was dealing with.”

  “I see.”

  We sat with our own thoughts for a few minutes, then I remembered something else. “Mom, the police will be back to ask questions pretty soon and they’ll probably want to hear all about your relationship with Lawson and the committee and everything else. The fact that Lawson was killed right in the committee meeting room means that there’s got to be a connection.”

  “Oh gosh, sweetie, you’re right.” She gave my arm a squeeze, then turned to Meg. “See, that’s why I wanted to call Brooklyn first thing.”

  “She did,” Meg assured me. “Because you’ve been there, done that, and you think of all these things that would never have occurred to us.”

  Mom wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her head on my shoulder. “Oh, Brooklyn. I’m so proud of you and am so glad you’re here.”

  “I’m proud of you, too.” I held on to her for a long moment, then reached out to Meg. “Proud of both of you.”

  I sat back on the cushion, anxious to prepare them for what would happen when the police came back in here. “One thing I’ve learned is that when you’re answering any question the police ask you, you should first of all be totally honest, naturally. If you try to sneak in a little white lie, they’ll find out and it’ll make things a lot worse.”

  “It’s just like we’ve always taught our kids, right Meg?”

  Meg held up her hand as if she were pledging in court. “Absolutely. Tell the truth and shame the devil.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Right. But I have one other word of advice and I think it’s important, too. Please try not to overshare, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know exactly what you mean, sweetie.” She winked at me. “You don’t want me to start jabbering like a fool, right?”

  “Well, sort of. Except you’re not a fool, Mom. No way. I only mention the oversharing thing because I’ve done it myself and it never seems to work out well. Just answer their questions honestly and don’t volunteer information they didn’t ask for.”

  “You’re too cute.” She patted my knee. “Thank you, sweetie. We’ll get through this.”

  “Yes, dear,” Meg added. “Don’t worry.”

  I smiled wearily. “Too late.”

  Chapter 6

  A half hour later, Stevie walked into our waiting room, followed by Officer Jenkins and Derek. “We’re waiting for the crime scene techs to arrive from Sonoma so we’ll be here awhile longer. Which means we’re sending you all home for now.”

  Mom grabbed Meg’s hand. “But don’t you want to talk to Meg and me? We’re the ones who found Lawson’s body.”

  “We can tell you everything we saw,” Meg added.

  “That will be very helpful, ma’am,” he said. “We definitely want to talk to both of you, but we can do it tomorrow.”

  Mom’s shoulders slumped a bit at the disappointment of not being “grilled.”

  “That’s fine, then,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re not planning on leaving town, are you?”

  “What? No. We— Oh, dear.” Flustered, Mom patted her cheeks. “You’re joking.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Stevie grinned, and his beautiful white teeth gleamed. “A little levity. Probably not appreciated at two in the morning.”

  Probably not, I thought. But I appreciated the fact that Stevie was being gentle with Mom and Meg.

  Mom smiled weakly. “I admit the events of the night have taken their toll on my sense of humor.”

  “Understandable.” He glanced around the room. “It would be helpful if all of you would make yourselves available to be interviewed at some point during the day, preferably in the morning. Our officers will call each of you to set up appointments.”

  “We’ll be available,” I said, stifling a yawn as I spoke for the group. At this point, I was no longer very lucid, but I managed a few sentences. “Do you need our phone numbers? Derek and I are staying at a different address than my parents’. Do you need that info?”

  He held up a small leather notebook. “I already have everyone’s information, thanks to Commander Stone.”

  “Okay, then.” I pushed myself up off the couch while Dad and John extended their arms to help Mom and Meg do the same. I stretched my back and neck, and rolled my shoulders, feeling stiff from sitting on that overstuffed couch. It felt like we’d been there for days.

  “There’s a half pot of coffee in the kitchen at the end of the hallway,” Dad said. “Please help yourselves.”

  “Appreciate it, Mr. Wainwright,” Stevie said.

  Derek walked over and slipped his arm around my waist. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

  “Absolutely, Commander,” I murmured.

  He gave me a light pinch and I tried not to squirm as I turned to Stevie. “It’s so good to see you again, Stevie. I mean, Detective.” I gave him a hug. “And welcome back.”

  “Thanks.” He nodded to Derek. “Good night, Commander. See you later, Brooklyn.” Stevie wished everyone else a good night as well, and I appreciated that. Mom was right. Stevie had always been very polite.

  Outside, the first thing I noticed was the medical examiner’s black van parked on Berkeley Circle. So Lawson’s body was still inside the committee room. I felt an instant chill and wondered if it was due to the cold night air or the sudden image of that poor guy laid out on the hardwood floor, waiting to be carried out and delivered to the morgue.

  My Dad and John had their arms around their wives and were steering them toward the street where all of our cars were parked. I checked both women with quick glances and, of course, they looked much better than I was feeling. Seriously, I wanted to be them when I was their age. Nothing seemed to stop them. Not even murder.

  I zipped my jacket up to my neck, shook myself out of my morbid thoughts, and gave quick hugs all around. Then we all got into our cars and drove home.

  Derek and I didn’t speak for the first few minutes of the drive. Then he turned and glanced at me. “Darling, I would appreciate if you would address me as Commander from now on.”

  I choked out a laugh. “You’re going to be sorry for that.”

  “I don’t see why,” he said, pretending to be affronted. “But to be serious for a moment, even though it was a bit ridiculous, I’m pleased that Gabriel addressed me as if I were important, because I was able to find out some information that I otherwise wouldn’t have learned.”

  I shifted in my seat to face him. “First of all, you are important. And second, what’d you find out? How did Lawson die?”

  He frowned at me. “Are you telling me you didn’t notice?”

  I grimaced. “I was a little too queasy to notice much of anything at the time. Except for all that blood.”

  He reached over and patted my hand. “I’m sorry, love.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I shook my head. “I’ve really got to do something about that stupid little phobia. But never mind. What happened?”

  Derek stared at the road ahead. “Lawson was stabbed in the neck with the sharp, broken edge of a wine bottle. The glass hit his carotid artery and he bled out. Death occurred within minutes.”

  Well, I asked for that, I thought. Now I was queasy all over again. “That’s disgusting. Poor Lawson. No wonder there was so much blood.”

  “Yes.”

  I shook my head. “There must’ve been a fight,
but who breaks a wine bottle and shoves it into someone’s neck? Seriously, what is wrong with people?”

  “That’s a very good question, love.” He shook his head and squeezed my hand again. “One we don’t have an answer to. But I’m actually glad you didn’t see Lawson. It was rather ghastly.”

  My imagination was now working overtime, painting vivid impressions of what the murder scene had actually looked like. My stomach turned at my own thoughts, so imagine if I’d gotten a better look.

  “I probably would’ve lost my dinner,” I muttered.

  “And I wouldn’t have blamed you. I do hope our mothers didn’t get too good a look at what caused Lawson’s death.”

  The thought of that possibility made my stomach swirl. “If they had, I doubt they would’ve been so cheerful about it.”

  “I’m going to hold on to that thought,” he said, and frowned. “Because their excitement level was a bit over the top, wouldn’t you say?”

  “They were downright giddy about it.” I was wide awake now as I pondered that. The moms were usually cheerful and upbeat, and normally that was a good thing. But at a murder scene, it seemed a little out of place. “I have so many questions.”

  “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Dealer’s choice, darling. You get to choose wherever you want to begin.”

  “Okay.” I took a breath and let it out. “You said it was a wine bottle. Was the rest of the bottle still in the room? Was it empty? Had Lawson and his killer been drinking the wine?” I frowned. “I guess the medical examiner will have to do an autopsy to answer that one.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Although there were two empty wineglasses on the table. And yes, the bottle was still there. Broken into several pieces.”

  “Could you tell what kind of wine it was?”

  “The glass was dark so it was most certainly a red wine of some kind.”

  “Did you happen to see the label?”

  “No.” He scowled. “The label was completely obscured by all that blood. But the crime scene techs will surely be able to discern which winery it came from.”