Autumn turned to Cricket.
“I’m traditionally published, what with cook books and such; there are too many photographs for mine to look good going it alone. My publisher handles mostly non-fiction.”
“What’s the name?” Autumn asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cricket shook her head. “They won’t even look at space opera books.”
“Try researching ABoards on line. It’s an author’s forum and they have some great tips and info for newbies,” Austin suggested.
“Awesome,” Autumn jotted the name on the inside of the file folder. “Thanks for the tip.”
The group discussed their works, offering suggestions to the others and Autumn was proud she was able to add her two cents, based on her experience as a copy editor and employee of the local paper.
The meeting flew by and finally it was time to go. Desperate to give it one more shot, Autumn reached for her file folder. “No one has any suggestions on publishers?”
They all shook their heads.
“When you gonna invite us out to your ranch?” Austin turned to Tom. “I drove by it last week, on my way to a friend’s place. I remember you telling me what road it was on. It has your monogrammed initials on the gate, right?”
“Yeah. TM. I’ll invite ya’ll over maybe next month,” Tom said.
“We can meet at my place, too,” Stephanie said. “It’s kinda cramped but in a great location, not far from the Savannah Civic Center. There’s a nice pub-type restaurant below our apartment. We could meet for dinner.”
“That sounds like fun,” Cricket said. “Although I don’t mind having it here, a change of scenery might be nice.”
“I might be able to make it too,” Autumn said. “I’ve been working a little overtime. We’re down a copy editor and looking for a replacement, but I would be interested.”
“Maybe Mercedes will be back by then,” Cricket said. “I should give her a call to check in. I’m starting to grow concerned.”
“Maybe she fled to Canada. New York isn’t too far from there,” Stephanie said.
“I hope I get a chance to meet her,” Autumn fibbed. “What does she write again?”
“Mafia, mobsters, mystery,” Tom said. “We like to joke around with her that she seems to know an awful lot about it. Course she is from New York and all.”
“It sounds interesting.” Autumn thanked them again for including her in the group, slowly walked out of the store and stepped onto the sidewalk. She was no closer to helping her friend figure out who might have set her up than when she’d walked in.
Autumn hopped on her Segway and sped to the end of the street. She paused when she reached the corner, teetering to keep her balance as she adjusted her backpack when she caught a glimpse of someone coming up behind her. She shifted to the side to get a better look, and the person stepped into a doorway and out of sight. Stop with the paranoia Autumn, she scolded herself.
She tightened the straps and, after making sure her cell phone was secure, turned onto Mercedes’ side street and steered her Segway into the alley behind the apartment before she hopped off. She spotted a movement up on the balcony. It was Mercedes. “How’d it go?”
Autumn shook her head. “I’ll tell ya in a minute.”
She parked the Segway near the stoop and waited for Mercedes to open the door.
“It was a bust,” she blurted out. Autumn repeated the conversation and how not one single person divulged their publisher’s name.
“Are you sure Austin said he was indie all the way?” Mercedes asked. “He told me he once had a publisher.”
“That’s what he said, unless I misunderstood him.”
“And Stephanie said she’s an indie author except for her romance books?”
“Those are published by Harlequin,” Autumn nodded. “Tom said his wasn’t good and Cricket said hers publishes mostly non-fiction, but she wouldn’t give me their name.”
“Maybe they’re lying,” Mercedes said. “Maybe their publishers are awesome and they want to keep them to themselves. I guess it would be smart for me to double check online, too.”
“I did think one thing was interesting,” Autumn said. “Didn’t you say Stephanie moved to Savannah not long ago?”
“Right.”
“The others, they’ve all lived in the area for a while.”
“Yep,” Mercedes confirmed.
“What if Stephanie writes romance as a cover? What if she followed Jon Luis to Savannah?”
“Maybe,” Mercedes wrinkled her nose. “I gotta find out which one of these people published with The Batton Group.”
“What if Jon Luis / JL Cordele published with more than one publisher?”
“It could be.” Mercedes sighed heavily. “It appears I need to do a little more background research into Jon Luis / JL Cordele’s writing career.”
Mercedes thanked her friend for trying and watched as she hopped on her Segway and headed out onto the sidewalk. She was close to figuring out who had murdered Jon Luis, who had set her up, so close and yet so far.
She needed to find someone in the author group she could trust, someone she was certain had not been the one to set her up.
Chapter 18
Mercedes strode into The Book Nook and made her way to the counter in the back. “Is Cricket here?”
“Not yet.” The young man behind the counter shook his head. “She should be in around one this afternoon. Is there something I can help you with?”
“No, I need to talk to her. Could you please leave her a message, tell her Mercedes stopped by and I’ll be back later this afternoon?”
“Sure.” The man reached for a pen and scribbled on a Post-it before peeling it off and sticking it on the back of the counter. “She’s popular this morning. I got a whole list of people trying to track her down.”
“If you talk to her, tell her it’s not an emergency,” Mercedes said. “I just wanted to run something by her.” She thanked the man, exited the bookstore and climbed into the car.
She was almost home when her cell phone rang. It was Cricket.
“Hello?”
“Hello Mercedes. I guess I just missed you. I have a note here that you stopped by to see me,” Cricket said. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“I’m home,” Mercedes said. “The man working at the bookstore said you wouldn’t be in until early afternoon.”
“I’m not scheduled to work until one. I stopped downstairs to pick up a couple of packages I need to mail and saw you were one of the people looking for me. I thought I would call you first since you took the time to come all the way over here.”
“I…I wanted to run something by you,” Mercedes said. “You sound busy.”
Cricket cut her off. “I’ve taken care of most of my errands. I have to return a couple more phone calls but if you’re in the area why don’t you come back by? I’ll make a pot of tea.”
“Okay. I’ll head back your way.”
“Great. If you’re standing in front of the bookstore, walk through the courtyard gate on the left-hand side and you’ll see a set of steps. My apartment is at the top of the stairs.”
“Thanks, Cricket.” Mercedes turned the car around and headed back to the bookstore. When she reached The Book Nook, she parked the car out front, made her way into the courtyard, up the steps and knocked on the door at the top of the stairs.
Cricket opened the door and smiled at Mercedes. “Come in. It’s nice to see you, Mercedes. I had no idea you were back in town.”
A twinge of guilt filled Mercedes for fibbing to her friends. “I never left town,” she confessed. “I didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to meet with the others these last few days.”
Mercedes didn’t elaborate and Cricket didn’t ask. “We hope you’ll join us again. We’ve missed you.”
“Thanks. I’ve missed all of you, too.”
“Would you care for a cup of tea? I just brewed it,” Cricket said. “It’s honey lavender
and good for stress relief.”
“Yes. Thank you. I could use some stress relief.”
“Please. Have a seat.” Cricket poured two cups and carried them to the small bistro table while Mercedes slipped into the chair near the door. “What brings you here? You sounded like you need to talk.”
“I do. It’s about Jon Luis’ murder.” Mercedes lifted the cup and the aroma of lavender swirled in the air as she took a sip. “I think the investigators believe I murdered Jon Luis. Have you ever heard of George Delmario?”
“I...” Cricket poured a packet of sugar in her cup and reached for her spoon. “Yes. George Delmario owned your property. He was murdered. His body was found out by the alley dumpster and the case was never solved.”
“Have you heard the rumor he had mafia ties?” Mercedes asked softly.
“Yes.” Cricket nodded. “I have a confession to make, too. The other authors, all of us, knew you and your family owned the property. Anyone who’s lived in Savannah in the last decade knew about Delmario’s murder and his alleged mafia ties. There was also a rumor about some gems.”
“I see.” Mercedes shifted in her seat. “I found out Jon Luis was in the process of working on another book, Unsolved Murders in Savannah: Mafia Ties, White Lies and Rush Into Murder. The Cold Case Files. The reason Jon Luis agreed to meet me was not to give me information about the Madison Square murder case, one of the cases he was working on, but to pump me for information about George Delmario’s murder.” She told Cricket the investigators not only found Mercedes’ name, but also her address scribbled on a yellow pad they found on Jon Luis’ desk.
Cricket’s eyes widened. “And the other case?”
“I’ve almost figured out the third one and was hoping you could help.”
“Maybe we should discuss it in our author group. If we put our heads together, we might be able to figure it out,” Cricket said.
“The only problem is that I think Jon Luis’ killer is someone in our group. This person set me up.”
“Oh dear,” Cricket clutched her chest. “That’s hard to believe.”
“Do you remember who brought up the subject of Jon Luis in the first place?” Mercedes asked. “For the life of me, I can’t remember.”
“No,” Cricket shook her head. “I don’t recall, either. Of course, we’ve discussed a lot of different cases since you write mystery, Tom writes thriller/suspense and Austin writes historical mysteries.”
“Here’s my theory. Someone knew Jon Luis was in the process of writing a book. Maybe he was getting close to cracking the cases. Luis already contacted Tierney Grant, the owner of the old Honeycutt Manor. He contacted me and set up a meeting to discuss George Delmario’s murder, which means he may have already made contact with the person or persons involved in the third case, as well.”
Mercedes went on to explain the killer or whoever was trying to keep the third case quiet, somehow knew Mercedes was part of Luis’ book research. “Jon Luis also wrote several books under another pen name…JL Cordele.”
“I’ve never heard the name,” Cricket said. “Do you recall the names of his books? Maybe that will jog my memory.”
“The books were older.” Mercedes slipped her cell phone out of her pocket, switched it on and flipped through the pictures. “There are three books written by JL Cordele - Crime in Corporate America, The Death Club and Savannah’s Mysteries Revealed.”
“None of those ring a bell. I do recall Jon Luis was receiving death threats years ago. That’s why he left town and went into hiding,” Cricket said.
Mercedes hesitated for a fraction of a second, wondering if she should tell Cricket she had a copy of the manuscript and decided she needed help. Cricket was her best bet. “I have the manuscript. I can’t tell you how I got it, though.”
“I probably don’t want to know how you got it,” Cricket said. “Do you have the details of the third mystery?”
“According to Jon Luis’ notes, Rush Into Murder was about Warren Paulson, a Savannah resident whose family was involved in local politics. Warren bounced from job to job and was eventually hired as a defense contractor. Not long after taking the position, rumors began to circulate that he was selling sensitive satellite information to the Russians. Jon Luis believed that Warren was getting ready to turn over the names of his Russian contacts when he disappeared. His family filed a missing person’s report and the investigators discovered Paulson’s boat was gone from the marina. According to Jon Luis’ research, Paulson went out on his boat, all alone and late at night and never returned. The Coast Guard eventually found Paulson’s boat, but no sign of Paulson.”
“So you’re telling me that Luis managed to stir up a hornet’s nest. He made contact with someone involved in either the Honeycutt or Warren Paulson case and that person ended up killing him,” Cricket said, “and you’re convinced this person is in our group?”
“Now that we’ve talked about it, I’m not sure,” Mercedes said. “It seems like an awfully big coincidence everyone knew where and when I was meeting Jon Luis and then he ends up getting murdered at our meeting spot.” She downed the last of her tea. “Thanks for letting me bounce my ideas off of you. I’m gonna head home and start digging around some more into Warren Paulson and the Russian connection.”
She thanked Cricket again for the tea and stood. “I plan to be at this week’s meeting.”
Cricket walked her to the door. “I know you didn’t kill Jon Luis. I’m not even sure I believe someone in our group killed Jon Luis. I’m going to go through my book inventory to see if I can find anything in stock written by either Jon Luis or JL Cordele.”
On the trip home, Mercedes mulled over the Russian connection. Perhaps it wasn’t someone in the author group. Maybe she’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She drove to the end of the block and headed past Shades of Ink Tattoo shop where she spotted Steve standing on the stoop and waved. One of these days, she needed to pop in to say ‘hi’ but not today. She had murder on her mind.
Mercedes turned into the alley and almost collided with a police car that was blocking the alley. She swerved around the car and spotted several uniformed officers digging through their dumpster.
Chapter 19
Carlita stood near the back of her building and watched as two men wearing white jumpsuits and rubber gloves rummaged through her trash bin. While the men searched the dumpster, two others stood on the other side holding trash bags. “You’re not gonna find a single thing in our dumpster to implicate my daughter in Jon Luis’ death.”
“We’ll be the judge of that,” Detective Wilson said. “We have to follow up on every tip, every lead.”
“You’re gonna waste your time because some bozo called in an anonymous tip telling you Jon Luis’ murder weapon was inside our dumpster,” Carlita said. “Who would know that, other than the killer?”
“What if your daughter confided in a friend? There’s a reward for information leading to an arrest. People turn in criminals all of the time.”
Mercedes parked the car and hurried to her mother’s side. “What’s going on?”
“Someone called in a tip that Jon Luis’ murder weapon was in our dumpster,” Carlita said.
“That’s crazy,” Mercedes sputtered. “Only the killer would know where the murder weapon is.”
“We’ve already gone over that. Detective Wilson seems to think you confided in someone, told them you tossed the weapon in the dumpster and they turned you in to collect a reward.”
“Five grand.” Detective Wilson shoved his hands in his pockets.
“You can’t search our dumpster without a search warrant,” Mercedes said.
“Your mother gave me permission.”
“Because there isn’t anything in there,” Carlita said.
“We got something, Wilson.” One of the men stuck a gloved hand in the air and began waving it.
“I’ll be right back.” The detective stepped off the stoop and hurried to
the bin.
“Tell me this ain’t happenin’,” Mercedes groaned.
“I wish it wasn’t.” Carlita squinted her eyes. “Looks like a gun. Let’s go.”
Carlita and Mercedes jogged to Detective Wilson’s side.
“That’s not mine.” Mercedes watched the detective slip on a pair of gloves, place the weapon in a plastic bag and seal it shut.
“It matches the make of the murder weapon. We’ll have to do some testing.”
“I’ve been setup,” Mercedes said. “Someone is trying to frame me for murder.”
Detective Wilson gave Mercedes a quick glance, but remained silent as he waited for the investigators to finish digging through the trash.
“The rest of the dumpster is clean, Wilson,” one of them finally announced.
The men crawled out of the dumpster and began tossing the bags of trash inside.
“I need you to wait over there.” Wilson pointed to the stoop before he made his way over to the crime scene van.
“I can’t believe this,” Mercedes groaned.
“Me neither. I never would’ve given them permission if I had the slightest inkling there was somethin’ in the dumpster,” Carlita said. “Why you? I don’t get it.”
“It’s the perfect setup. Whoever did Jon Luis in totally set me up. They know who we are and if the cops do enough diggin’ around, they’re gonna put me in jail and throw away the key.”
“Not if I can help it,” Carlita said.
The detective slowly made his way over. “Our preliminary examination indicates that the weapon we found in your dumpster matches the weapon that killed Mr. Luis. Just between you and me, I don’t think you’re dumb enough to go around telling someone you shot Jon Luis and that you tossed the weapon in your dumpster.”
“I’m not and I didn’t.”
“We’ll be sending the gun in for analysis. In the meantime, please don’t leave town.”
“I won’t,” Mercedes promised. A sudden thought popped into her head. “Wait.”
The detective turned.
“When did you get this so-called anonymous tip?”
Setup in Savannah: A Made in Savannah Cozy Mystery (Made in Savannah Cozy Mysteries Series Book 7) Page 12
