“Hux is threatening to meet Romero at the airport with a shotgun. And Macy is wondering if he has a cute hot son.”
“Sounds about right.”
Macy texts again. And great news! I’m writing a book!
“A book?” Jasper and I say in unison.
Stop right there. Hux texts. I can only deal with one insane relative at a time.
Macy texts back. Very funny. Bizzy. Can you get it started for me? You know, like you used to with my papers when I was in school?
Jasper groans. “Please say no. Macy is old enough to do her own homework.”
“You’re so right.” I quickly text back. Macy, I am not writing your book for you.
My phone lights up again as she sends another message my way. Jasper told you to say that, didn’t he?
A laugh bursts from me. I can speak for myself. The answer is still no. What are you writing a book for, anyway? You hardly like to read.
She texts right back. True, but I have a publisher already waiting for me to meet my deadline. James says he might acquire Higgins House and that I could be his official first client.
“A publisher?” Jasper snaps up another cookie. “Things just got interesting.”
Huxley fires off another text. What are you going to write about? The time your mother got swindled out of house and home?
Macy texts back. House and home are the same thing. Sheesh, and you’re supposed to be the smart one? Enough about Mom, back to me. James said he’d wave all the fees and take care of all of my publishing needs.
“Shows what she knows,” I say. Publishers don’t charge fees. I hit send.
The dancing ellipses light up my screen until Macy pops up again. I don’t know what fees are involved. Production costs, things like that.
Hux is up next. That house and home thing is an expression, Macy. Speaking of which, I need to leave the office. I have a hungry, cranky wife I need to tend to. And don’t either of you dare say I said that. I’ll talk to you both Saturday regarding the big catfishing reveal.
“Ooh, we should get together,” I say, quickly typing into my phone. Late lunch at the cove? Say two-ish? The café has a stellar menu now that we’ve revamped it.
Hux texts back. See you there. I’ll be gunning for the lobster.
Macy hits send again. I meant it about that book, Bizzy. We’ll brainstorm on Saturday. Get some good sleep the night before. I’ll need you sharp as a tack to come up with some bestseller list worthy ideas. Think steamy romance. And no dead bodies!
“There’s that,” I say, holding up my phone to Jasper. “Saturday is going to be filled with family, seafood—”
“And maybe a shotgun.”
A laugh rumbles from me. “That’s why you and Leo both need to be there with your weapons at the ready. Maybe wear a Kevlar vest. I’d like for you to come home in one piece.”
A thought hits me and I reach over and pick up his laptop.
“I wonder if the website for Higgins House mentions anything of his passing,” I say, opening it up and running my fingers over the keyboard in an effort to get us there.
Fish mewls and jumps up onto the couch next to me and Clyde comes over on the other side of her.
Maybe there’s a condolence page, Fish yodels. I bet the killer has already left his or her mark.
I translate for Jasper and his chest bumps with a silent laugh.
“The killer certainly left his mark,” Jasper says. “But you’re right, Fish. Killers usually like to come around again if they can. They like to hide out in the open. It makes them feel better than hiding out under the covers.”
Or running away. Sherlock barks. Why don’t any of these killers ever hop on a plane and head for warmer climates?
I glance his way. “Because if they did, we’d never catch them.”
“We’d catch them.” Jasper lands a kiss to my cheek. “You’re just that good.”
I purr like a kitten as I snuggle up against him. “Here it is, Higgins House Publishing,” I read as we take in the orange background with silver script writing scrawled across it.
Higgins House Publishing? Clyde chirps. I heard someone mention it the night of the murder—before I was captured by your sister, Bizzy. It sounded like two men.
I relay it to Jasper.
“Go on,” Jasper says, picking up the tiny kitten. “Do you remember what they were talking about?”
One of them said, ‘You’ll make me a partner. With the two of us at the helm, we might actually make a profit for everyone.’
I quickly fill Jasper in. “What else did they say, Clyde?”
Then the other man said, ‘You’ll be in business with me over my dead body. No offense, but I’m making enough money without you.’
Jasper’s chest expands. “Sounds like Patterson and James were going at it.”
“Sure does,” I say, clicking the about section of the Higgins House website. “Higgins House”—I say as I start to read the tagline off the page—“where all of your publishing dreams can come true. For inquiries, send a writing sample via email and we’ll let you know if your book is a good fit for our company.” We scroll through the website and read over the extensive list of clientele and peruse their books on the website as well.
“Everything seems so normal,” I say. “Business as usual. But then again, I suppose that’s business.”
“Agree,” Jasper says. “Let’s try inputting Patterson’s name in the search engine. There might be an online bereavement journal we can find. Usually the mortuary provides one for the family.”
“Let’s see.” We type in his name, but nary a commemorative journal of any kind pops up. Instead, Patterson Higgins’ name is found on a few website forums for writers.
“Huh. Let’s check that out,” I say, clicking into the first article at the top of the page, which leads us to a website called The Writer’s Nest.
“There he is.” Jasper points to Patterson Higgins’ name under a thread called help me find a publisher for my manuscript. “Higgins House takes just about anything. Just be prepared to fork out the big bucks. They’re a bit on the pricey side, but they claim to do a lot of handholding,” he reads.
“Wait a minute.” I pull back to get a better look at my handsome hubby. “Publishers don’t charge authors. I think this is kind of what Macy was talking about.”
Jasper clicks to the next page. “Look at this response.” He points down to the next comment. “They’re not quality and they certainly didn’t hold my hand. But they sure did hold out their hand when I forked over twelve grand.”
“Oh no,” I moan as I look up at Jasper. “Do you think Patterson Higgins was a vanity publisher?”
“Someone who charges a mint to produce the work and then pockets the proceeds?” His cheeks twitch. “It’s not ethical as far as publishing houses go.”
“I know. I had a friend in college who got mixed up in one. She thought it was a legitimate publishing house that wanted to take on her work, and it turned out they took on any book they came upon—for a fee, of course. Her book never sold more than a few copies, and that was just to friends and family. She ended up with an entire garage full of boxes of her books. She went on to do great things in the book world, all within traditional avenues, but Higgins House sounds like the exact place she warned everyone to stay away from.”
“Wow.” He hands me a cookie. “I guess we know why James said that with his help they could make a profit for everyone.”
“Hey”— I say, pulling the cookie close—“James said something to me to the effect that Patterson had over six hundred angry authors.”
“That’s a lot of people to add to the suspect list. Okay, so we know James may have wanted Patterson out of the way in an effort to lay claim to the publishing house himself and to sink his hooks into Hadley. Let’s review the other five hundred and ninety-nine suspects.”
I make a face. “There’s Hadley herself. She had some insane desire to publish that triple X fantasy she
wrote about you. In fact, I remember her thinking that night that she was about to secure a contract with him—and that it had something to do with her body.” I rack my brain to try to recall every last detail. “And then I remember her saying she had no part in Patterson’s demise, and her next thought—she confessed to having a part in it.”
Jasper casts a glance to the ground. “It’s hard for me to believe that Hadley could be capable of something like this, but when people are passionate about something, they’re capable of anything.”
“And then there’s Liv Womack. I saw her having a tense conversation with Patterson that night, too. She had wine, they all did—even the one who claimed he didn’t. I’m not sure what that tense conversation was about, but I did read her thoughts and she did say that Patterson was a damn fool who thought he had all the answers.”
Jasper grunts, “I don’t know that I’d disagree with her there, especially knowing what we do know regarding that vanity press he was running.”
“Agree. And then there’s Devan, mushroom farmer extraordinaire. She was his ex-wife, too.”
Sherlock barks. Doesn’t that mean what’s his is hers, and hers is his?
Clyde mewls, It does if they were married. That’s what Cinnamon said this afternoon.
“That’s right.” I look to Jasper. “Wait a minute—I think Devan mentioned she was still married to Patterson when he acquired the publishing company from his uncle.”
Jasper leans back, his eyes locked to mine. “That means, unless he bought her out, she’d have a vested interest in it.”
“And it just might revert to her upon his passing. Jasper, you have to come to the book club tomorrow night at the library. I can try to pick her brain and see if she confesses to wanting the press.”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll start digging into it as soon as I hit my desk in the morning. It might take cutting through some red tape, but I think I have some friends in legal who can help me trace the underpinnings of Higgins House. If we can figure out the year it was acquired, the year of their divorce, and whether or not he did anything to legally remove her, we could have another solid motive.”
“And the woman knows her way around a mushroom. There was plenty of room on that farm to grow just about anything.”
Clyde mewls, I can’t see a wife wanting to poison her husband. She hops off the sofa and makes her way over to Sherlock before snuggling up to him.
I can, Fish yowls.
Come on, you. Sherlock gives a soft bark and pats his paw on the other side of him.
Oh, fine, Fish growls as she slinks down and curls up on his other side.
“Sherlock is playing both sides of the fence,” I whisper.
“Rest assured, I am not.” He lands a kiss to the nape of my neck just as his phone goes off. He plucks it off the table and examines the screen.
It’s a text from Hadley. Just thinking about how kind you’ve been to me. Thank you for understanding. I wish I were strong enough to tell you about our child all those years ago. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. Goodnight.
I look up at Jasper and he shakes his head at me as he puts down his phone.
We wrap our arms around one another and hold on tight.
And my heart breaks for both of them.
Chapter 16
The Cider Falls Public Library shimmers like a star in the sea of never ending darkness as Georgie, Juni, my mother, and I make our way into the building. Of course, I came equipped with Fish and Clyde in my wonky pet carrier strapped to my chest. And once Sherlock Bones heard where we were going, he certainly didn’t want to miss out on the fun, so Georgie said he could tag along for the adventure, posing as her emotional support animal.
“Who needs emotional support at the library?” Mom frowns over at Georgie. “And you’re no better, Bizzy. You don’t see me hauling around Mistletoe and Holly everywhere I go. Okay, sure, so I’ve taken them here or there, but never to a library.”
Georgie scoffs. “And that’s exactly why they can’t read.”
“I’m not here for the reading.” Juni adjusts her hot pink vinyl skirt that cuts off just below her hips. I’m terrified of what’s going to happen should she sit down. “I’m here for the hunky male librarians.”
“They have those here?” Mom cranes her neck toward the crowd before us, suddenly interested in tonight’s outing for more testosterone-based reasons.
The library is brimming with both books and bodies, chairs have been set out near the palatial area that sits between the new releases and the reception counter, and there’s a refreshment table near the patio doors with coffee and water set out on it. Not nearly the ritzy spread we had the night Patterson was killed, with the cheese and the wine. I bet the library has a no alcohol policy. Or maybe I’m the only goof they’ve ever found who was willing to accommodate them. Not that I pitched for the liquor. And in the rear, the back patio doors are opened to that spacious deck that overlooks all of Cider Cove, and I can’t wait to go out there and check out the view once we’re through in here.
Fish mewls as she warms my chest, Here comes Macy. I didn’t know she wore glasses.
“Neither did I.” A laugh bounces from me as Macy steps up clad in black with red-framed specks that take up half her face. “Hey, four eyes,” I tease.
She makes a face as she steals Clyde from me. “You laugh it up, but now that I’m an author, I need to look the part.”
“An author?” Mom gasps with pride like only a mother can. “Macy, that’s fantastic. What in the world are you writing about?”
Georgie swats her. “Don’t you know? She’s put together all of her after-hours escapades into one steamy compilation, and now she’s ready to take the book world by storm. Publishing today—a three-part movie deal tomorrow.”
Juni sighs. “And we get to say we knew her when.”
Macy chokes. “A steamy compilation? Why didn’t you think of that, Bizzy?” she asks, shoving Clyde back my way. “I’d better go jot that down. I brought a notebook tonight in the event you had a brainstorm or two I could steal. Who knew it was Georgie’s brain I’d be after?”
“Stick with me, kid,” Georgie says, linking arms with Macy and handing Sherlock’s leash over to me. “I’ve got ideas for a sequel that will knock your socks off.”
They disappear into the crowd just as Juni inhales a sharp intake of air.
“All right, Ree”—Juni straightens— “hottie naughty librarian of the male persuasion over by the paperback racks. Try not to make that annoying wheezing sound when you breathe. If you’re nice, I’ll see if he has a brother for you.”
“A brother, for me?” Mom flattens her skirt with her hands. “Stand back and watch a pro. I’m about to land that man for myself—for fun, of course. I’ve got a real man coming in tomorrow.”
They take off as if a box of donuts were in the bounds. And I bet by the end of the night, they’d rather have a box of donuts.
A soft meow bleats from Clyde. Now why would Ree want to get in the way of Juni landing that hottie naughty? She’s got the man she sent the nudie pics to.
Fish yowls, Because Ree, much like some other creatures—she pauses to shoot Sherlock a dark look—likes the chase of it all. Love is real, Clyde, but on occasion, people simply like the affection they garner from others.
Sherlock offers a muffled bark. I like the affection, I confess.
“Let’s hope I can get the killer to confess tonight as well,” I whisper.
“Bizzy?” a chipper female voice chimes from behind, and I turn to find Liv Womack with her silver hair lying over her shoulders like a white waterfall. She’s donned a khaki dress and manages to look just as scholarly as Macy. “How I love that you brought your pets.” She gives all three of my furry friends a quick scratch. “Usually unless they’re seeing eye dogs, pets are a no-no in the library. But women are forever coming in with purse puppies, and we just look the other way—just like I’m going to do for you tonight.”<
br />
“I appreciate that. I can stay out on the patio if it’s a problem.”
“No way. It’s chilly out and dark. Besides, all the action will be in here. You won’t be able to hear a thing out there. Go grab a cup of coffee and settle in. You’re going to love it. This is one of the favorite places for the Grim Readers to meet. We’ve had other outings before, too—the beach at midnight, a haunted house, all the sensational things Devan can think of.” She averts her eyes, and a little laugh bounces from me.
“Well, it was fun having you all at the inn.” I cringe as soon as the words leave my lips. “I’m sorry. I meant up until things took a deadly turn.”
“Oh, that’s okay. It was fun being at the inn up until that point.” And a little after that, but that’s just me being morbid. Speaking of morbid… “Here comes Devan.” She nods past me. “I heard her arguing with James earlier. Something about Higgins House Publishing.” Her lips tug to the side. “I think it all ties back to Devan’s farm. She said so herself that she’s over her head with expenses. I heard her telling Patterson just a few weeks back that she was on the brink of destruction if he didn’t give her what he owed her.”
My mouth falls open. He owed her?
“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go make sure everyone is getting settled. I plan on staying out of her warpath tonight.” She takes off, and I turn just as Devan is about to pass me by.
“Bizzy.” An instant smile comes to her face as she takes in my menagerie. “Oh, give me this sweet little kitten.” She plucks Clyde out of my front pack. “And hello to you, sunshine.” She gives Fish a tickle. “And you, too, handsome.” She blows a kiss to Sherlock before setting Clyde back in my arms.
For a killer, she sure is insightful. Sherlock gives a soft bark back.
“I think that was a thank you,” I tell her and she laughs.
“I miss having pets. And I really need a cat, or a small army of them. I wasn’t kidding when I said I could use one at the farm. We’ve got a terrible problem with mice.” She rubs her nose to Clyde’s. “And I bet you, little miss, would be an ace at chasing them, too.”
Lock, Stock, and Feral Page 14
