“That’s the allegation. He’s accused Blake of stealing his ideas and publishing them under his own name. He said Blake's last two books were totally written by him. In other words, Blake cut Christopher completely out after Christopher did all the writing.
“And the last book, Blake refused to even put Christopher's name on it. He was in the process of taking Blake to court to prove it. I don't know how we missed it. It's all over the internet, and the news.”
“Holy moly!” Kate’s eyes grew wide. “That’s a biggie. Definitely a suspect. I wonder how come Blake never said anything?”
“He obviously didn't want us thinking badly of him. It sure looks like a whole lot of people had reason to want him to be dead.”
“We should talk to Ian. All the people we’ve talked about could’ve killed him.” She ticked the names off on her fingers. “His agent, his last ex-wife, his co-author, the unhappy student, and an obsessed fan.”
“Don’t forget us,” Grace added, “or me.”
“Yes, we could have killed him if we’re totally honest about it. We are going to benefit from his death, no denying that. I suppose we do look like two ripe, sitting suspects to Ian.”
“That’s ridiculous. Don’t get me started on that. He knows we didn’t kill Blake. Do you think we should talk to these people?”
Kate regarded her sister with horror. “Are you crazy? No! Why should we go talk to them? I think you need to go see Ian and ask if he knows about these people. It’s very likely that one of them could be the killer.
“Unless there are other people with grudges against him that we haven’t heard about. I don’t want the killer to know we’ve found him, or her, and come after us.”
“Why should I be the one to talk to him?” Grace demanded.
“Because he's the detective on the case would be a big reason. A smaller reason would be that you’ve never settled this thing between you. Now's your chance. And you’re still in love with him.”
Grace felt her face redden. Had Kate known all this time? “How could you say such a thing? I am not. There have been other men in my life.”
“Come on, it’s me you’re talking to. It’s the way you look when you talk about him. Even when you told him off about questioning us for Blake’s murder, there was something in your eyes. I get it. You still love him. Yes, I know, there have been other men in your life, blah, blah, blah, but you’ve never married any of them, and a lot of them would’ve made excellent husbands.”
“I’m not going to discuss this. It’s total insanity.”
Kate smirked. “Deny all you want, I know the truth. And I'm still volunteering you to go talk to him about our suspects.”
Grace refrained from sticking out her tongue this time.
###
“You and your sister have been busy.” Ian looked up from the list of suspects Grace had brought.
She wiggled around. She wasn't sure if it was because of the look he was giving her— she half-expected death rays to come shooting out of his eyes—or the uncomfortable excuse for a chair her rear end was perched on. “As you can see there are quite a few people who could've killed him, and one of them most likely did.”
“Could be.”
Grace waited a beat. “Surely, from this list you can see that neither Kate nor I killed him.”
“I think it’s best if you left this investigation to me and the rest of the Sweetwater Police Department.”
“And I think you should excuse yourself from this investigation.” She attempted to match his frosty tone, but even a snowman would have a hard time doing that. “You already have your mind made up, don’t you? It was either Kate and me for the money, or me because he wasn’t interested in dating me.”
“Are you done?” Ian asked.
“Since you asked, no, I'm not. All this talk about Kate and me as suspects really stems from me leaving you almost at the altar.” She took a deep breath knowing she had probably gone a little too far.
Ian pushed back his chair and stood. “I'm a professional and I’d be remiss in my duties if I didn't look at you and Kate.”
Grace decided not to acknowledge his point. At least not out loud. “What about all these other people on our list? They have motives galore it looks like.”
“That’s all I’m going to say since I haven't received a bulletin from my superior that you're assisting in Blake's murder investigation. As far as the history you and I share, that's over and done, and has nothing to do with this murder investigation. I resent the fact that you think I'm so petty that I would put you, or your sister, in jail over what happened between you and me. I thought I made myself clear on that before.”
Grace got up. He had another point, she supposed, but she wasn’t about to acknowledge that one out loud, either. “Are you even going to look into these people?” She pointed to the list that now lay on his desk. “They all had reasons to want him dead. Especially, I think, Christopher. Blake stole his writing and claimed it as his own. And his sister has reason, too. Although she probably would’ve done it long ago, so maybe she shouldn’t be up high on the suspect list.”
“I have work to do.” He handed her the list back. “Have a nice day, Grace.”
Saying anything else would be futile. She’d have to tell Kate she’d failed. She grabbed the list from his hand then left without saying goodbye.
She sat in her car before taking off. Deep down she knew Ian was an honorable man and a good detective, but she couldn't help but think he still had Kate and her at the top of his list. Her name was probably before Kate’s, and in bold.
CHAPTER 9
* * *
Grace woke up on the morning of Blake’s funeral and turned off her alarm clock before it started buzzing. As soon as her feet hit the floor, sadness settled in her chest. At least sunlight was peeking through her bedroom blinds. The temperature on her phone read thirty-eight degrees. Not great, but not horrible.
Kate had agreed to drive. Jenna Carra was leaving Thistlewood in her cousin Meg's capable hands and riding with them. Brookhaven was two hours away. The sisters had closed Black Cat Books for the day. She pulled out a winter white pantsuit from her closet, which made her think of Blake’s Santa suit still hanging in the closet downstairs. She supposed they could save it for next year’s tea, and find someone Blake’s size to fill it. But right now, it depressed her to think about it. An hour later she was ready to go.
###
Saint Margaret’s church was filled. There was a crowd on the sidewalk even. Luckily, the twins and Jenna found seats in one of the pews in the middle. Grace looked around at the crowd. How many of these mourners actually knew Blake? she wondered. Her eyes rested on the ornate casket at the front of the church. She read the bulletin an usher had handed her and the service started a few minutes later. Grace looked around, trying to see if anyone looked as if they could've killed Blake. What did a killer look like, anyway? It could’ve been anyone.
###
At the end of the service, which had mostly passed in a blur for Grace, several people got up and spoke about Blake. She recognized several best-selling authors who praised his work, but said little about the man himself. There were a few childhood friends who spoke about their memories of him, but no family members. How sad.
She wondered if Susannah had changed her mind and come? It seemed unlikely. Maybe her son was here, but if so, he hadn’t gotten up to speak. It seemed Blake had few close friends, or relatives that cared about him. She was convinced that most of the people here were other authors and curious fans.
Kate elbowed her. “It’s over. You look like you’re daydreaming.”
Grace blinked. “I guess I was.” She slid her coat on and the three women got in the line leading out of the church.
“On to the cemetery,” announced Kate as they settled in her little red car. “I’m glad the sun’s out, so it’s not so chilly. Blake had a good showing. I think he’d be pleased. I still can’t believe it, though. One day
he’s with us, and then poof, he’s gone.”
“I know,” said Jenna. “He was a great guy. I’ll miss seeing him at the inn, even though he was only there five or six times. He felt like a close friend. He loved you two, and your bookstore. He told me he was now a partner in Black Cat Books. He was so happy about it.”
“We were, too.” Grace glanced at Kate. They weren’t going to tell Jenna everything they’d learned about him. Their grandmother always said ‘don’t speak ill of the dead’. She said it was disrespectful no matter what that dead body had gone and done when it was alive.
They followed a line of vehicles snaking their way to nearby Glenwood Cemetery. They found parking on the side of the narrow gravel lane that wound around the grounds, and followed the crowd, which wasn’t nearly as large as the crowd at the church. Grace, Kate, and Jenna stayed on the outer perimeter.
Grace looked around and noticed a car parked a few feet behind Kate’s. A man got out and seemed to be staring at the mourners. He was probably there for another funeral, she surmised, although she hadn’t noticed another one in process as they drove into the small cemetery.
“Kate, look at that guy standing over there,” she leaned her head sideways toward Kate and whispered. “The one leaning against his car with his arms folded. He looks angry, doesn’t he? Or is it my imagination working overtime?”
Kate looked to where Grace was staring. She pulled her phone out of her purse.
“You're taking a picture of him?”
“Yes. Just in case. I love my smart phone. I take pictures of everything now. It’s an art form.”
If they hadn’t been at a funeral, Grace would’ve snorted. Art form, indeed. “Excuse me,” Grace said to the man in front of her while Kate snapped away. She hoped the guy, and everyone else, didn’t notice. “Do you happen to know who the man leaning against that car is?”
He turned and looked. “No, sorry. I can't say that I do. I don't know Mr. D'Arcy personally, or any of his family. I’m just a big fan of his books. I had to be here to say goodbye.”
“That's okay. Thanks.” Grace turned her attention back to the priest as he was wrapping up.
“What’s wrong?” Jenna whispered.
“Nothing, really,” Grace replied. “Don’t look right now, but there’s a man leaning on a car behind Kate’s and he looks suspicious.”
“Why? What’s he doing?”
“Nothing,” Grace had to admit. “If he’s here for Blake’s funeral, why is standing over there, instead of over here with the rest of us?”
Jenna glanced quickly over at Kate’s car. “I don’t know, but the funeral’s over now, so it probably isn’t here nor there.”
“I want to go thank the priest for doing such a good job,” Kate said.
“Did you get enough pictures of that stranger?” Grace asked as they walked over to the priest. “Maybe a video would be in order?”
“I think I have enough. I only wanted a couple. Really, Grace, a video would be over the top, I think.”
Grace rolled her eyes. Her sarcasm had gone right over her sister’s head. She and Jenna followed Kate over to where the priest stood.
“Thank you, Father, it was a lovely service,” Kate told him. “Did you know Blake well?”
“Thank you. We both grew up here in Brookhaven,” he responded, his smile warm. “He was a year ahead of me in school. We both attended Saint Margaret’s as youths. I saw him occasionally when he came to town. I followed his career all these years. It’s hard to believe he was murdered. What about you? Did you know Mr. D’Arcy, or are you just fans of his books?”
“Both. This is my sister, Grace, and our friend, Jenna.”
The priest smiled again. “I don’t have to ask which one is your sister, do I? Nice to meet all of you.”
“It is pretty obvious, isn’t it,” Kate said, grinning at him. “Grace and I own Black Cat Books in Sweetwater. Blake recently became a silent partner. He loved our bookstore and was going to play Santa at our bookstore’s annual Christmas tea.”
“I thought you two looked familiar. I’ve been in your bookstore, although not recently. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” said Kate.
“Jenna, are you from Sweetwater, too?” he asked.
She nodded. “I own Thistlewood Inn on Main Street. It’s a Bed and Breakfast. The purple Victorian that looks a little out of place.”
“I’ve seen it. It looks charming and I think it fits right in.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Father.”
“Father,” began Grace, “do you know if any of Blake’s family was at the funeral?”
His brow furrowed as he thought. “I don’t know. His parents are gone and I’m not sure about anyone else.”
“His attorney planned his funeral, correct?” Grace asked.
“Yes, he did.”
Grace lowered her voice and leaned in. “Father, do you have any idea who may have killed Blake? Kate and I have a few ideas, but did anyone confess to you that they had killed him?”
“Grace!” Kate hissed. “You can’t ask him that.”
A smile danced around the priest’s mouth. “The confessions I hear are considerably less gruesome, thank the Lord.”
“Did you know anything about his sister, Susannah Ellington?” Grace asked.
“I’m afraid not,” he replied. “It’s lovely meeting you all. I’m going to talk to some of the other people here. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Thank you, Father. It was nice meeting you as well,” Kate said. She turned to Jenna and Grace. “Maybe we should talk to the guy who was leaning on his car.”
They made their way back to Kate's car, but the man in question was gone. “Probably a fan of Blake's,” Grace said as she got in the front seat. “Maybe he didn't want to disturb everyone by coming closer.”
Kate frowned. “That wouldn't disturb anyone.”
“I wouldn't worry about it,” said Jenna. “So he was leaning on his car, I don't think that's particularly mysterious.”
“You know Grace,” Kate answered. “She loves her mystery novels. She sees a mystery in every situation.”
“Make fun,” Grace rebounded. “One day my skills will come in handy.”
CHAPTER 10
* * *
Somehow, all the scrambling Grace and Kate did pay off. Their Christmas tea was back on. The caterer had delivered cranberry orange scones, tomato basil bisque soup, cranberry chicken sandwiches, and layered spinach sandwiches the morning of the tea. For drinks, the twins had asked for Cranberry Cream and Sugar Plum Fairy teas. For dessert, there was cranberry buttermilk upside down cake.
They brought out the china they used every year for their tea: Cups and saucers, and plates ringed with spruce branches, and in the center, a cozy cottage surrounded by snow, with a Christmas tree visible through one of the cottage windows. The party favors came back out, too, special jumbo candy canes made by Delano’s Chocolates in Sweetwater, wrapped in red and silver ribbons, and Christmas-themed coloring books for adults, along with a packet of colored pencils.
The books for Blind Date with A Book had all been placed in red and green wicker baskets around the store and were selling like they were the last books available on the planet. The bookstore was bursting with wall-to-wall people. Grace could hardly breathe, but the store was filled with Christmas joy and happiness. She had the feeling Blake approved, wherever he was. Despite what he’d seemingly done to his sister and others, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. She was disappointed and appalled, and wasn’t sure she’d forgive him, but hating him would serve no purpose.
She was very glad they'd gone on with the tea, and that the turnout had been so fantastic. It had taken everyone’s mind off murder and put it back on Christmas, at least for a little while. She smiled as Emily and Charlotte made their way between people’s legs. Kate had put red plaid Christmas collars, complete with a tiny bell, on them. They looked beautiful, and were eagerly lapping up
all the attention they were getting. Grace had grabbed the last cranberry orange scone, and popped it in her mouth. It was delicious
“Hi. Excuse me. Someone told me you were one of Black Cat Books’ owners. Kate or Grace?”
Grace turned then smiled and stuck out her hand. “Hello. Grace Danning. Sorry about my mouth full.” She tried to swallow. “Is this your first time at one of our teas?”
“I've been here before. Not to a tea, but to your bookstore. Years ago. But I didn't remember what you looked like. I’m Susannah. Blake’s sister.”
Grace was shocked, her mouth fell open for a second, but she quickly recovered. “Susannah! It's nice to meet you. Were you at Blake's funeral after all?”
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