by Mia Dymond
“As a matter of fact, I do. I have quite a few loyal readers.”
“Male or female?”
“No, Dara.” Alex interrupted again. “Personal interest, Detective?”
“Curiosity.”
Alex tilted her head from side to side as if weighing his response. “Okay, Dara, answer.”
“Both.”
“Really?”
“Really,” she repeated with a smile. “You’d be surprised how many thank-you messages I receive from men.”
“Did you drink anything?”
“Not as much as I should have,” she mumbled, “but yes, the five of us shared a couple bottles of wine.”
“What time did you leave?”
“Ten o’clock p.m.” She glanced at Alex. “Judge Hatchet has the hots for my attorney.”
Detective Stewart cleared his throat and leaned forward.
Alex smirked. “Irrelevant before you ask, Detectives.”
“According to your statement, you and Miss Carpenter arrived at your townhouse together. Who found the deceased?”
“Both of us.” Dara swallowed hard. “The body blocked the door and it took both of us to open it.”
“Did you phone for help immediately?”
Dara purposely left out Marnie’s suggestion of a glass of wine. “Yes. Marnie phoned.”
“Did you touch the deceased?”
She felt all the blood drain from her cheeks. “No.”
“I’m sorry.” He slid his hand across the table and covered hers. “I know this is difficult for you.”
Dara glanced at their enjoined hands and then cast a sideways look at Alex whose mouth now hung open.
Mace’s husky snicker caused her pulse to skitter as he spoke. “Close your mouth, Counselor, I’m not a total hardass.”
He gave her hand a slight squeeze and then continued. “Can you think of any reason the victim had to be at your home that time of night?”
“None. I didn’t even know her; we’ve never spoken and I only recognized her from a newspaper photo.”
“Research tells me she has quite a reputation.”
She nodded. “She’s well published.”
“Is this review the first she’s given you?”
“There’s something you need to understand, Detective. The Rogue Reviewer earned every letter of her pen name – she never, ever writes a complimentary review. She wraps all twenty eight teeth around a novel, bites down, and then chews until she swallows every single page. Thank God this is the only time I’ve received her recognition.”
His fingers began a steady back-and-forth glide across her knuckles. “You’re that good?”
She gave a desperate half laugh. “When you put it like that, I guess I am.”
“What exactly didn’t she like about your novel?”
“By your own admission, you read the review, Detective,” Alex intervened.
“Relax, Counselor.” His grin made Dara want to tear his clothes from his body. “I simply want her opinion.”
“Hearsay.” Alex nodded at Dara. “Okay, go on.”
Dara sighed. “The woman is – or was- obviously frigid. She labeled it smut.”
“You mentioned sensual matter.”
“Well yes, but the story isn’t about sex. The novel clearly has a plot, a very good one.”
“Fantastic,” Alex mumbled.
“When you arrived home, did you notice anything peculiar about the door?”
“Peculiar, how?”
“Was it open?”
“No, I used a key to unlock it.”
“You’re sure the lock was engaged?”
She paused at his question. When she slid the key into the mechanism, she’d assumed the key was responsible for snapping the lock. “I can’t say for absolute sure, but I’ve never left it unlocked. I didn’t turn the knob before I used the key.”
“Are you the only one with a key?”
“No, Marnie keeps a spare.”
“What about the superintendent of housing?”
“No, the homeowner’s association office administrator keeps a master copy. I’m required to be present for any repairs Griffin makes in my unit.”
“Griffin?”
“Griffin Owens, the super.”
“How well do you know him?”
She hesitated and looked at Alex for direction. The other woman nodded for her to continue.
“Only in a professional capacity.”
“As well as Chad?”
“Relax, Detective Turner.” Alex smirked. “Griffin can’t compete with you.”
Mace released her hand to run a hand across his jaw, a gesture she attributed to irritation caused by Alex’s jab. “How long have you known him?”
“Four years.”
“You’ve lived in Cascade Glens four years?”
She nodded. “According to the HOA, Griffin has been the super for ten years.”
“I’m assuming by HOA you mean the Homeowner’s Association.” He paused while she nodded again. “And you’re absolutely sure he doesn’t have a key?”
“As sure as I can be. I know neither Marnie nor I gave him one.”
“How do you know Miss Carpenter didn’t?”
She rolled her eyes at his ridiculous suggestion. “Marnie has been my best friend since forever. She didn’t give Griffin a key to my townhouse.”
“Can you think of any reason for the victim to visit you?”
“Again, hearsay,” Alex warned.
“I’m perfectly aware,” Mace snapped. “I’m just trying to put the pieces together, counselor.”
Alex grinned, then nodded at her to answer.
“Absolutely none.”
“Are any of your friends acquainted with her?”
“Only through her reviews, as far as I know.”
“Let’s go back to Griffin. You’ve only known him since you’ve lived at Cascade Glens?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever hired him to make repairs in your unit?”
“No. In fact the one time I needed him to repair the garbage disposal, he was on vacation and the HOA sent someone else.”
“Do you know your neighbors?”
“Yes. They’ve lived there the whole time I have.”
“How much time do you spend away from home?”
“I travel extensively to promote my novels.”
“Do your neighbors watch your unit when you’re gone?”
“I can’t say for sure but I suppose they might notice something out of the ordinary.”
“How safe do you feel there?”
“Until tonight, I felt secure. We have on-site security and I’ve never known there to be trouble, let alone murder.”
“You’ve always lived alone?”
Alex lifted her pen from her legal pad and raised one eyebrow. “Curiosity?”
“I could run a background check.”
Alex wasn’t swayed. “You and I both know you already have, Detective. You’re seeking validation. Okay Dara, answer him so the green monster can go back to sleep.”
Dara bit back a giggle. “Yes, I’ve lived alone since college.”
“Why?”
“Damn.” Detective Stewart groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Dara glanced at Alex, who now wore a smug smile as she spoke. “Your call. There’s no legality behind it but obviously he’s interested in more than murder.”
“Most men are intimidated by my, uh, knowledge and success.”
“Nicely put,” Alex mumbled as she resumed writing.
Dara glanced at Detective Stewart. “Alex has the same problem.”
Her friend’s pen didn’t even hesitate on her paper. “Alex isn’t being questioned about a crime.”
She sighed. So much for redirection. She moved her gaze back onto Mace, hoping upon hope she’d given him enough information to figure out who the heck left a corpse in her living room. Unfortunately, question marks danced on the irises of the eyes looking back at h
er.
“The victim’s name is Evelyn Wallace who, as you well know, was a freelance book reviewer.”
She took a deep breath, careful to quench her desire to give him a piece of her mind. Although until now she didn’t know the reviewer’s name, she knew darn well what the woman did for a living.
“You don’t happen to know who murdered her and why do you?”
“We’re working on that.”
She moved her gaze from Mace and onto Detective Stewart and then back again. “You have absolutely nothing to go on, do you?”
“We’ll know more when forensics gives us a report.” Her shaky nerves calmed at the determination in his mesmerizing eyes. “Until then, try to relax. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“I wish I shared your enthusiasm.”
He released a low chuckle, reached across the table to stop the recording, and then glanced at Alex. “Okay Counselor, we’re ready to question your next client.”
Dara stood from the chair and glanced over her shoulder at Mace as she turned to leave the room. “Be nice, Detective. She’s just getting warmed up.”
CHAPTER THREE
After a long night of tossing and turning, Dara finally left Marnie’s spare bedroom with a distinct plan. Although the crime was less than twenty-four hours old, she knew that timing was everything – the body wasn’t the only thing growing cold. And by the time her best friend arrived in the kitchen and settled at the table with a cup of coffee, she was eager to lay it all out.
“Marnie, I need your help.”
“Of course. I’m here for you.”
“You and I are going to investigate this murder.”
“I don’t know, Dara. Detective Turner and Detective Stewart appear to have it all under control.”
“Consider it research. After all, you wanted me to turn it into a novel.”
“You’re dead serious.”
“Ha!” She rolled her eyes at her best friend’s pun, intended or not. “Yes, I am.”
“Did you tell him about your plan?”
“I’m assuming you mean Mace and no, I didn’t mention it. I’m sure my assistance hasn’t even crossed his mind.”
“Testosterone poisoning,” Marnie mumbled.
“Sucks for him. He has no idea how much knowledge I have about solving a crime.”
“Have you discussed this with Alex?”
“That’s a big fat NO. She’s convinced I should barricade myself in my townhouse until this whole nasty thing is over. Besides, I’m almost certain she and Detective Stewart will share evidence.”
“I know, right? Were you blinded by the sparks between them?”
“Almost, and to tell you the truth I’d be bothered if she weren’t one of my best friends. Only Alex would flirt with the detective interrogating me for murder.”
“Actually, Detective Turner questioned me. Did he, you?”
“Beside the point. Are you gonna help me or not?”
“What the hell? I’m in. Just don’t get me in trouble, I need my job.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Uh, yes you would. Do I need to remind you that you almost got us arrested researching your last novel?”
“Hey, it’s not my fault that club got busted.”
“Club? It was a biker bar, Dara, and the cops thought we were prostitutes! I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.”
“Never?”
“Almost never.” The other woman shrugged and Dara fought the urge to laugh out loud. The times she and Marnie found trouble in the last twenty plus years were hysterical in themselves. “Where do we start?”
“We need to figure out why Evelyn ended up in my living room.”
“Evelyn.” Marnie snorted. “More like Elvira. Isn’t it more important to know the reasoning behind her murder?”
“I think that’s obvious, don’t you?”
“Maybe, but would someone really kill her because of a bad review?”
“Stranger things have happened. Some authors don’t accept criticism well. I have to admit that it’s hard sometimes.”
“You’re a true professional, Dara.”
“So why was she found at my house?”
“Do you think she came to see you?”
It was Dara’s turn to snort. “I’m sure she intended to apologize.”
“There’s no other logical explanation.”
“There is. We just haven’t found it yet.” She handed the newspaper to Marnie. “There were two other reviews besides mine and I know both authors. I say we pay each of them a visit.”
“Okay, who’s first?”
“Sara Winston.” She gave Marnie a smug grin. “The queen of murder.”
***
He allowed his car to idle against the curb while he scanned the row of vehicles in the parking lot to assure Dara’s car was still parked next to Marnie’s. An irritated tick moved the muscles at the base of his jaw, evidence of how angered he was by what she had to endure at the hands of Detective Turner and his cronies. He hadn’t planned on Dara becoming a suspect. Damn Turner. The sacrifice was meant as a gift and the detective’s interference changed everything.
He had worked diligently to keep her torment at a minimum and the Primrose policemen made him look like an uncaring idiot. He hadn’t intended to leave a mess behind; really, the blood caused such an awful stain on one of his most expensive shirts and he’d been forced to reduce it to a pile of ashes. Although he didn’t plan on a repeat performance, he would definitely find another method. The nauseating smell alone made up his mind. At least Dara didn’t stay there. What a good friend she had in Marnie.
Movement caught his attention as both women climbed into Dara’s car, chattering as if deep in the middle of a serious conversation. He knew Dara’s inquisitive nature well enough; she’d already begun to analyze his motives. He chuckled as he eased his foot from the brake and allowed the car to creep forward. Soon she would understand.
He followed a safe distance behind, curious as they pulled up to the front of a gray stone mansion and parked in the driveway. As soon as the women stood on the porch well out of his view, he left his car at the curb and tucked himself behind several thick, neighboring bushes. When the door opened, a woman practically flew at them. Sara Winston. What a strange bird. He didn’t like her writing at all. Way too dark – not at all like Dara’s well-written mysteries.
He snuck back to his car and pulled away from the curb. He’d fully anticipated that she’d visit Sara. He’d give her time to process and ultimately she’d come to appreciate his sacrifice.
***
Standing on Sara’s front porch, Dara rang the doorbell and then took a deep breath as she widened her stance and glanced at her friend. “Okay Marnie, take three steps back.”
“What?”
“Just do it,” she said under her breath, “she’s a hyper-hugger.”
“A hyper —”
Dara didn’t have time to explain as the door opened and Sara Winston launched herself straight at her, arms wide open until she closed them around Dara’s arms and squeezed like two hungry pythons.
“Dara! I’m so glad you called!”
She almost felt guilty when Sara released her then reeled Marnie in. Helpless, she worked to pull air into her lungs while Marnie suffered the same wrath.
Sara finally released Marnie and reached to give Dara’s shoulder a squeeze. “Are you okay?”
“Yes thank you, Sara. I’m trying to focus on the investigation.”
“Good for you. Nothing like a good plot to keep your mind off the uglies. Come inside and we’ll talk it out.”
Sara turned to open the door and Dara motioned with her eyes for Marnie to follow. Her friend raised both eyebrows and mouthed a silent no way. With no other choice, Dara followed Sara, hoping she’d hugged enough for one day.
Sara practically bounced as she led them down a hallway and then into a room at the very end. A variety of bright orange and blue geometric
al shapes covered each wall, not to mention the pillows on the two white sofas and matching chairs. Vibrant, just like the author’s personality.
“So, any word from the police?” Sara took an opposite chair and folded her legs beneath her.
“Zip. Nada. Zilch.” Dara shook her head as she answered. “I’m not entirely convinced they know where to start.”
“Funny how we’re usually one step ahead.”
She silently agreed. Somehow plotting a murder just didn’t seem to fit Mace’s usual m.o. “I can’t for the life of me figure out how a murderer entered my house.”
“Let’s go about this a different way. How your suspect got inside is still a mystery but the fact remains that he got in.”
She raised an eyebrow. “He?”
“Was the scene messy?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Then I’d bet your suspect is most likely male.” Sara tilted her head to one side. “I only know a few men who’ve received Evelyn’s attention. What about your maintenance man?”
“Griffin is one creepy little guy,” Marnie answered.
“Do you suspect him?”
Dara shrugged. “As far as I know he doesn’t have access to my unit.”
“What about the head of the Homeowner’s Association? Male or female?”
“Male but I’ve never seen him or interacted with him.”
“Okay, what about a stalker?”
Dara paused. “I have received a few e-mails from a devoted reader, but I have no idea if the author is male or female.”
“What about the content?”
“Nothing but complimentary.”
Sara twisted her lips, almost as if perplexed. “Well, Evelyn obviously ticked off someone. Her wicked tongue finally got the best of her.”
“She reviewed me, you and Georgette Swanson. I have an airtight alibi with four witnesses to back me, and I happen to know you do too.”
“You saw the morning paper.”
“Yes, and congratulations on your achievement award.”
“Thanks, but I only attended the banquet because my agent insisted.” Sara unfolded her legs. “Although I will admit I’m grateful he did. I only write murder.”
“I don’t know how you guys do this.” Marnie rubbed her brow with one hand. “My mind is spinning.”
