It lay between the door and the first row of bookshelves, and his back was turned toward us. It was definitely a man, given the size of those big brown shoes he was wearing.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
Derek stood at the threshold, studying the room. He pulled out his phone and used the flashlight app to examine the area surrounding the body. “Don’t come inside. There’s blood seeping into the carpet.”
And there went my stomach. I really had to look into hypnosis.
“Jeez Louise,” Clyde muttered. “Who is that?”
Derek looked beyond Clyde and met my gaze directly. “Brooklyn love, call the police.”
“Is he dead?” Clyde asked.
Derek’s grim expression answered that question.
“Who is it?” I whispered.
He reached out and grabbed my hand. “It’s Jacob Banyan.”
Chapter 13
I didn’t even like the guy. In fact, I hated him. He had threatened my mother and maybe even tried to kill her, and for that, there was zero forgiveness. I was glad he wouldn’t be around to torment my mother ever again. But it didn’t make my stomach feel any better to see the jerk’s blood oozing out of him and into the oriental carpet on the floor of Clyde’s shop.
Poor Clyde. Poor bookshop. The Good Book had been a landmark in Dharma for over twenty years. I loved this place, but now the shop would always be a murder scene. It might bring more tourists in, but I had to wonder if I’d ever be completely comfortable here again.
So many happy memories were all wrapped up in Clyde’s charming shop. But now they were clouded after finding the bloody body of creepy Jacob Banyan lying dead on the floor.
Banyan ruined everything, I grumbled under my breath. But I wouldn’t let him ruin Clyde’s Good Book for me.
Within minutes, Stevie—I mean Detective Willoughby—arrived with two officers. After confirming that Banyan was indeed dead, they began to question Derek and me. They wanted to know how and when we had run into Clyde and why we had walked with him to the bookshop where we found Banyan’s body.
I told Stevie everything that had occurred at the committee meeting earlier that afternoon and how Banyan had once again threatened my mother and insulted almost everyone else on the committee. I made a point of telling him how Derek had thrown the big jerk out of the room. I reiterated my suspicions about Banyan trying to run Mom down. I wasn’t sure that mattered anymore, but I was compelled to mention it anyway.
It was clear from Stevie’s line of questioning that the police were suspicious of Clyde. After all, the body was found in his bookshop. I told Stevie that he was barking up the wrong tree and should look elsewhere because there was no way that Clyde could’ve killed Banyan.
“First of all,” I said, “the timing is all wrong. Clyde was having dinner at El Diablo at the same time that Banyan was killed.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked.
Well of course not! I thought, but didn’t say it. Instead, I just shrugged. “Not entirely, but I know you’ll interview the restaurant staff to make sure.”
“Yes, we will,” he said tightly, although I thought I caught a gleam of amusement in his eyes. I hoped it was amusement, anyway. I occasionally saw the same glimmer in Inspector Lee’s eyes, but that usually meant she was getting ready to lampoon me. I couldn’t be sure if Stevie had reached that level of mockery yet, but time would tell.
“And second,” I continued, picking up where I left off. “Banyan was so much bigger and more powerful than Clyde. How could Clyde possibly overpower Banyan enough to shove a knife in his throat?”
“How do you know it was a knife?” Stevie asked.
I opened my mouth to speak, but then had to close it quickly. Was this a trick question? Frankly, I had no idea whether he’d been killed with a knife or not.
“I don’t know exactly,” I admitted. “But it’s, you know, an educated guess since there was lots of blood around his throat.” I ran my fingers along my neck, just in case he was unclear on the concept. I frowned. “Was it another broken wine bottle?”
Stevie flipped to a new page in his notebook. “Did you see anyone else on the street as you were walking toward the bookshop?”
I closed my eyes and tried to picture our walk down the Lane earlier that evening. With a sigh, I opened my eyes. “There were people walking up and down the Lane, but I didn’t see anyone I knew.”
He jotted something down and thought about it for a minute. Then he closed the notebook and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Okay, that’s it for now. We’ll probably have some follow-up questions in the next day or so.”
“Call me anytime,” I said. “I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do.” I hesitated, then added, “I just hate that there’s a murderer roaming the streets of Dharma. It’s shocking and frightening. I hate that it’s happening right before the festival. It’s all so wrong.”
“Yeah, it’s wrong,” he said flatly. “And we intend to catch him before anyone else gets hurt.”
I nodded. “Good.”
He raised his hand and gave me a casual salute. “Good night, Brooklyn.”
* * *
• • •
So Jacob Banyan was dead. Even though his death meant that there was still a vicious killer roaming the streets of Dharma, I felt a keen sense of relief. Because, you know, that big brutish bully Jacob Banyan was gone and we were safe.
But that was just a lie. We weren’t safe. My mother wasn’t safe. Someone had tried to kill her and now we didn’t know if the driver had been Banyan or the even more vicious person who had killed him. Either way, we would still be sticking to Mom like superglue for the foreseeable future.
* * *
• • •
I think we need to make a list,” I said, taking a sip of wine.
Derek and I had made it home and had settled down in the comfortable family room with our mushroom and sausage pizza, antipasto salad, and the lovely Cabernet Sauvignon that my father had handed Derek when we stopped by to give them the news about Banyan a little while ago. Mom had been completely shocked and expressed her sorrow that he was dead. But I sensed some relief from her, too.
I had hated to spoil the moment by reminding both Mom and Dad that there was still a killer out there who may have also targeted my mother.
“A list, you say,” Derek said, and sipped his wine.
“Yes. A list of murder suspects, now that our best suspect is dead.”
Charlie must have sensed our somber mood because she jumped up onto the couch and squeezed between us, rubbing her soft, furry body against both of us. Then she cuddled up in the middle, allowing us to take turns giving her strokes and soft scratches and nonsensical murmurs, calling her silly names like “my little peanut” and “punky-wunky.”
I’ll confess that Derek doesn’t call her silly names. That would be me.
“Our prime suspect is dead,” Derek lamented, picking up on my last comment. “It tends to spoil all of our best laid plans.”
“Yeah, I hate it when the prime suspect dies.”
I bit off a small chunk of the delicious Italian sausage and savored it. “I especially hate that we still have to worry that there’s someone out there who wants to kill my mother.”
Derek frowned. “We don’t know that someone else is trying to kill your mother. Now that Banyan’s dead, the threat to her may be over.”
I pressed my hands to my stomach. “I hope so. Because the thought of her still being in danger makes my stomach twist itself into a pretzel.”
“I know, love, and I’m sorry. It’s not a good situation.” Derek frowned thoughtfully. “We’ve got to find this killer before he tries anything again.”
“Or she,” I added.
His eyes narrowed. “Yes, there is definitely that possibility.”
&nbs
p; “So back to my list.” I took another quick sip of wine, then picked up my pen. “Saffron Bergeron.”
“She belongs at the top of the list,” Derek agreed. “She’s quite bitter and seems to have it in for your mother. I watched her when Banyan lost his chance to fund the festival. She was as angry as he was.”
“And that’s just stupid, because my mother is a wonderful person.”
“She is indeed. And that’s one more reason why Saffron can’t understand her.”
“What a contrary muggle she is,” I muttered.
Derek grinned, but said nothing for a long moment. Then he asked, “But why would she kill Banyan?”
“Oh heck. I have no idea.” I took a big sip of wine. “Let’s move on. Number two on my list is Shandi Patrick.”
He gazed at me. “That’s quite a leap since we’ve never even met the woman. Why do you think she belongs on the list?”
“Remember when Mom told us that she had stormed into the bank looking for Banyan?”
“Yes. She was angry that he was attempting to foreclose on her winery.”
“Right. Glenmaron Winery. Of course, she doesn’t have to worry about the winery now that he’s dead.”
“And you think she might’ve killed him to prevent him from going through with that plan.”
“Yes.”
“It makes sense. Isn’t she also trying to make a Hollywood comeback?”
“That’s the rumor.” I shrugged and reached for a cherry tomato.
“I’m not certain her wanting to make a Hollywood comeback is relevant. But I would agree that there’s something going on with her. It’s too bad we couldn’t meet her tonight.”
“Yeah, it would’ve been good to get a feel for her personality and attitude.”
Derek stared at his wineglass, obviously thinking about something. “She had to run out to meet someone, your sister said.”
“Right. And then Jacob Banyan winds up dead. Coincidence?”
“You know my answer to that.”
“Jacob Banyan said something snarky about Shandi during the committee meeting. I wonder if Ryan reported that to her.”
“He could have, and I imagine it would’ve enraged her. But it’s also possible that he didn’t say anything, not wanting to hurt her feelings.”
“Yeah, that’s probably more likely.” I thought for a minute. “There are plenty of suspects when it comes to Banyan’s death, but who would want to come after my mother?”
“And who among those suspects would also want to kill Lawson Schmidt?” I set my wineglass on the table. “This is getting too complicated.”
“Let’s not throw in the towel yet,” he said. “How do you feel about the other committee members?”
I closed my eyes and pictured the meeting room. “There’s Mom, Winston, Jan, Sue Flanders, Marybeth Novak, Professor Dinkins, Clyde, Ryan, Saffron Bergeron.” I opened my eyes and frowned. “I remember counting ten committee members that first day. So who am I missing?”
He gave my arm a light squeeze. “You’re missing Lawson, darling.”
“Oh dear. Sorry. Of course.” I picked up a slice of pizza and took a bite. “I don’t know who to put on the suspect list because if anyone didn’t like my mom or Lawson, they invariably liked Jacob Banyan. So who would kill both of them?”
“I haven’t a clue. But I do have other questions. For instance, why would Ryan urge your mother to fix things for Shandi?”
“I don’t know. He was destined to fail. Which makes him come off as a fool while Shandi comes across as conciliatory and willing to go along with whatever is asked of her.”
“At least, that’s how London made her sound,” I said. “London seems to love her. And funny how Shandi never asked to be cast in a different role.”
“Because she cleverly plays up to her director,” he guessed.
“Pretty smart, since London’s in charge of the entire production.” I took another bite of pizza.
“Do you think Ryan would kill for her?”
I almost choked on my pizza but managed to swallow. “What?”
“It’s something to think about.”
“I guess. But I hate to think he’s that malleable.” I put the rest of my pizza down on the plate and shook my head. “Of course, he’s so mild mannered, he’s practically invisible.”
“Beware of the quiet ones,” he murmured, sipping his wine.
“I suppose you’re right. But do you really think he could’ve faced down Banyan?”
“I have no idea. And for all we know, the killer surprised Banyan with no facing down involved. I suppose if she pays him enough, Ryan will do whatever she says.”
I thought about it. “I don’t really believe he’s our prime suspect because he has no reason to kill anyone.”
“I agree,” Derek said. “But Shandi does. And so does Saffron. And when it comes to Banyan, the entire committee does, too. So for now, they all stay on the list.” He took a bite of pizza and chewed it thoughtfully. “So what about Lawson? We haven’t really discussed who might’ve had it in for him.”
“True, but any one of those committee members might’ve come after him, seeing as how he stole all of their money.”
“In that case, your mother would be a suspect.”
“Oh, she would love to hear us say that,” I said with a laugh.
Derek swirled his wine. “Our biggest problem is still that whoever went after your mother would never go after Banyan.”
“But Lawson is another problem altogether. There are too many suspects in his case.” I reached for my own wineglass. “I’m getting confused.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb,” Derek said. “The same person who killed Lawson and Banyan also went after your mother. And that person is a member of the festival committee.”
“I’ll agree to that.”
“And the most prominent suspects, in my humble opinion, are Saffron, Clyde, that professor fellow, and Ryan, simply because of his connection to Shandi.”
“You’re gunning for Ryan.”
He smiled. “I’m not, honestly. But I do remember him casting that ‘no’ vote. Along with Saffron and the professor and someone else I can’t recall.”
“Professor Dinkins works at the Sonoma Institute of the Arts.”
“Do you know him well?”
“I always got along with him when I was teaching at the Institute, but we weren’t close.”
I had a sudden flashback to my days at the Institute and how awful some of the professors turned out to be. I hesitated to remind Derek of what we went through back then, but I knew I had to say something. “I’m wondering if Dinkins was a friend of Solomon’s.”
Solomon—he only went by the one name—was a professor who loved to have students fawn over him. He collected sycophants and was very creepy.
Derek’s jaw clenched. “That man was a psychopath.”
“Oh, for sure. But even psychos have friends.”
Derek swirled his wine, the casual move belying the tension he had to be feeling. Those were dark days, I thought.
“If Dinkins was close to Solomon,” I finally said, “I wonder if he knew how truly screwed up he was.”
“More importantly,” he countered, “does he know of Solomon’s connection to you and me?”
“And to my mother,” I added, and felt a chill crawl up my arms and gather in my shoulders. “I don’t even want to consider that possibility.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I don’t either. But we won’t discount Dinkins altogether just yet.”
I munched on another bite of salad as I studied the names. “Who are we forgetting?”
Derek gazed at me. “Clyde.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?” Derek said, surprised at my vehemence. “You said th
at very quickly.”
“I know I should put him on the list.” I thought maybe I should be wringing my hands, I felt so guilty. “After all, Banyan was killed inside his shop and he could’ve been faking that whole unlocked door scene.”
“Yes, he could’ve made that up on the spot. And let’s not forget that Clyde had the book that once belonged to Lawson.”
“But he gave the book to me. Look, I’ve known him most of my life. And sure, he comes across as an old grump, but once you get to know him, he’s . . . well, he’s still grumpy. But he’s smart and funny and charming. And don’t forget, Gabriel likes him.”
“Gabriel’s opinion weighs a lot,” Derek said, squeezing my shoulder fondly. “But not as much as yours. If you’d rather not add him to the list, we won’t. For now.”
I breathed out a sigh. Could the man be any more perfect for me? I didn’t think so. Especially when we could enjoy pizza and wine, and consider murder suspects all at the same time. “Thank you. I love you.”
He began to laugh. “I love you, too, darling. But I can see that you’re stressing out over this list. But it’s our list. We can make it up as we go along. We make the decisions, isn’t that so?”
“Yes.” I grabbed my wineglass and sucked down a healthy sip. “We’re the deciders.”
“Hear, hear,” he said, and clinked his glass to mine. “So read me the names on the list.”
I set down my wineglass. “Saffron, Shandi, Ryan, Professor Dinkins, and everyone else on the committee, including Clyde, but not really Clyde.”
“So, not Clyde,” Derek said. “Which leaves us only four real suspects. I was expecting several dozen.”
“There could be people we aren’t even aware of. Like some friend of Banyan’s. Or someone who was blackmailing Lawson. Or—”
“We can search the entire valley for suspects and motives, love, but I think we should stick to the committee. Otherwise, we’ll drive ourselves insane.”
The Grim Reader Page 22
