The Fallen Angels Book Club

by R. Franklin James

  I put Post-its on the pages of each book with the actual murder descriptions. There were no similarities. Both authors had their own style of mayhem. I checked for common victim types but found none. The victims were as varied as the real life copycats. The motives in the book murders were also different and had nothing in common with either Rory or Abby—at least as far as I knew.

  I shoved everything to the side and poured myself another glass of wine. First, Rory. Then Abby. Now Bill. I pushed back a mounting fear and took a deep swallow. My pardon seemed further away than ever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I went to the airport to meet Miller on my way back from getting the signature from Imelda’s last nephew. The other Riddick heirs overnighted their signed documents to the office so I could kill two birds with one stone. I made a mental note to never use that saying again.

  Worried about being late, I tried not to show my annoyance when Avery stopped by to ask about Bill before I left the office.

  “I know you were divorced, but if you need to take some time off it’s not a problem.”

  I shook my head. “We were over in every sense of the word years ago.”

  “I just want you to know, I’d understand.”

  “You’re very kind. I always felt I could count on you. Fortunately, Triple D was on the temp agency’s reference list. This job saved me.” I shrugged. “Unfortunately, Bill had some unsavory colleagues. I guess one got tired of him.”

  “So the police don’t have a clue? They don’t think you did it, do they?”

  My flinch was automatic. “No. I don’t know … maybe. I’m just taking things one day at a time.”

  He nodded and patted me on the shoulder. I faked a reassuring smile.

  Construction of a new airline waiting area in terminal two was underway at the Oakland airport. I parked in short-term parking and maneuvered my way through the barriers to the elevators. All my eggs were in the Miller basket. My intuition told me that, although the others had good motives, Miller also had means and opportunity. While my nerves were on edge, at the same time I felt calm and resigned.

  “Hollis, over here.” Miller waved from a table farthest away from the counter but next to a large window overlooking a landing strip. He pushed a mug of hot water toward me.

  “Thanks for remembering.” I reached for the selection of teas.

  “No problem. Look, let’s get to it. You said you thought you knew who killed Rory and Abby. Who?”

  “I need to find out something first. Where do you work?”

  “Why?”

  I fingered the tea packet, avoiding his eyes. “How do you get our books for free? At first, we thought you worked for a newspaper and could get them through the book review section, but you don’t.”

  “We? Who’s we?”

  I mentally kicked myself. Stupid mistake.

  “There’s no we. There’s just me. So?”

  Too late. I had raised his suspicions. He looked at me as if I wore a wire. I had to regain his trust.

  “Look, Miller, I have a lot on the line. I need to have these murders solved as soon as possible. I can’t afford to be a suspect. Please, help me.” I hoped my Little Miss Vulnerable voice would get to him.

  “All right. I guess there’s no harm in telling you. They weren’t for free. I bought them at a discount.”

  “What! Are you joking? Seven books every month for the last three years. Why?”

  “The first month, I did get them for free. It was a fire sale at the independent bookstore where I shop. We didn’t vote that first month.”

  I nodded, remembering.

  “I liked being with the club. It really helped me get over some adjustment humps. I didn’t want having to come up with books to be a deal breaker for members. I wanted to make being a part of the book club easy. It was my contribution. You understand?”

  Not really.

  “I guess. You didn’t answer my question. Where do you work?”

  If there was a dark cloud in the sky, it came to rest over our table. Miller rose up in his chair, leaned over and spoke through clenched teeth. “That’s none of your damn business.”

  A man with roll-on luggage sat at the next table but paid us no attention. Miller slouched in his seat.

  “Don’t mess with me, Hollis. I have a life and a lifestyle I’m not about to put at risk to satisfy your nosiness. If you think you have something on me, go to the police. If you come after me, if you mess up what I have, you better take me out, because I’ll be coming after you.”

  I believed him.

  “Miller, I—”

  “I didn’t kill Rory or Abby, so back off.”

  He was clearly trying to intimidate me and, to a large extent, he was succeeding. “You use an alias. Aren’t you worried about your real name and … background coming out?”

  He grabbed my wrist. “How did you find out about my real name?”

  His grip was firm, but I wrenched my hand back. “You mean besides from the police? Look, Miller, I don’t want to reveal any of your secrets. You say you didn’t kill Rory or Abby. All right, that’s all I wanted to know.” I stood. Where was the exit?

  “Sit down for a minute.” His voice returned to normal.

  There were still people nearby. I sat.

  “My wife … my wife has her own small business. She won’t allow for any scandals. My brother … had a drug habit. I tried to help him out. It almost ended our marriage when she found out I’d been in prison, but we got through it. She’s been able to keep our names out of the paper as suspects, but if your prying about me gets out, I’ll—”

  “You don’t have to threaten me. I get it.”

  This time I stood and walked away without looking back.

  Driving back to the office, I mentally went over the scene. I don’t know what I expected to find out, but if I were to have any credibility with the police, I’d have to figure out what I’d learned. Bill’s letter pointed to someone who would kill to save themselves and Miller was the Fallen Angels’ book link. He got us the books, and he could point us to the plots he needed. He wasn’t stupid, though. Why would he copy the murders from books he provided? Why would he risk bringing attention to himself? It was clear he could ditch his mild manner when he wanted. If he needed to frame me, why make it so complicated? Rory must have been blackmailing him, too. I punched numbers into my cellphone.

  Time wasn’t on my side. I had to see Detective Faber before Miller got away. If I were the killer, I’d be planning to clear out.

  “Do you work here now?” the guard at the metal detector asked.

  I gave him a tight smile. “No, but I can understand how you might think that.” I wrote down my visitor information and got the requisite badge.

  The detectives stood up when I was escorted to the interview room.

  Detective Faber extended his hand. “It was smart of you to get in touch, Ms. Morgan. You think you have something on Marshall Sloane. Miller Thornton to you?”

  This was not the time to tell him I already knew Miller’s alias. I sat down in the chair he pulled out. My seat was still the suspect chair across from the two of them.

  A recount of my book research from the night before didn’t take long.

  “So, only Miller knew the plots of the books to be voted on by the club.”

  Detective Lincoln shifted in his seat. His small frame up against the oversized table made him look even more like a kid. “How did he manipulate the book selection to reflect the plot he wanted?”

  “He knew us well enough to predict what we would want. I can also remember him pushing us toward one book because he could get more copies. Besides, we didn’t know he was really buying the books. We thought he was doing us a favor by getting them for free. Miller would bring us the books the next month after we voted. None of us went out and bought the book if we knew we were getting it for free.”

  Detective Faber said, “So, you do think it’s Thornton?”

  I bit ba
ck a response that I sure wouldn’t be here if I thought it was me. “Yes. It has to be Miller.”

  “You don’t sound absolutely sure.”

  I hesitated. “Miller’s an avid reader. He actually enjoys discussing the characters and plot of a book. He comes across as hugely kind and generous. Today I saw a different man. He must protect his family and Rory could have blackmailed him. You probably know a lot more about Thornton’s, or Sloane’s, background.”

  “Anything else?”

  I shook my head. “No. I went through all the books for the past six months. He was the only link I could find. Detectives, I think Miller did it. Besides, of all the remaining members, he’s the most likely. Everything points to him. I admit I’m a little surprised. I can’t see him killing Abby. Maybe Rory, but if he were desperate enough, who knows?”

  “Well, you know what I can’t see?” Detective Lincoln said. “I can’t see a bunch of ex-felons forming a book club in the first place.”

  He was getting on my last nerve.

  “The book club idea took a little getting used to. Jeffrey Wallace is not only a great parole officer, he’s a good person. He saw the best in all of us. I don’t think we wanted to disappoint him.” I spoke the truth. “Clearly, Miller and Rory weren’t as motivated.”

  “Interesting. I thought your book club was based on confidentiality. Members wouldn’t have their pasts or their current lives questioned. How did you find out all this stuff out about Miller Thornton?” Detective Faber asked.

  “Listen,” I pretended not to hear his question. “You have to hurry. I spooked him; he’s going to run. He was getting on a plane. Miller could have killed Rory because Rory knew he hadn’t given up his old ways. Also, Miller brought in the books. He knew how to set us all up.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I found out Miller’s alias, the one in Marin County, and called the phone number. I confirmed Miller lived there.” I tried to keep my irritation in check. It was important Detective Faber believed me.

  “You happened to find out his alias?” His voice held more than a little disbelief.

  “That’s why I called you. He may think he’s been found out.” I paused. “Look, I have to get these murders solved, or at least have my name taken off the suspect list. My expungement petition is in jeopardy. You said so yourself.”

  “Do you know of any connection between Miller and your ex?”

  I rubbed my forehead. “No.”

  “Can you hold that thought? I’ll just be a moment.” Faber motioned to Lincoln and they left the room. After only a few minutes, Detective Faber returned by himself.

  This wasn’t turning out as I pictured.

  “I … I guess I can’t prove anything. Miller has a solid motive for killing Rory, Abby, too.”

  “Frankly, Ms. Morgan, we’ve already thought of that.” Detective Faber’s chair creaked as he sat back. “While we don’t have a lot of results, we have more than you do. I want you to know we appreciate your efforts, but we want you to stop playing detective and leave the investigation to the police.”

  “But he threatened me and—”

  “You were prowling through his personal background.”

  I bit my lip. “Right. Okay, then. Did Rena Gabriel tell you about the slip of paper she found in her windshield wiper right before Abby died?”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “Did she tell you no one in our group had discussed the book, The Long Pause? Miller had just introduced it.”

  “You had a copy, didn’t you?”

  “I always like a sneak peek, but I hadn’t read it yet.”

  “I see.”

  He just sat there looking at me. Detective Lincoln came back into the room and passed Detective Faber a note.

  “Well, I guess that’s all I wanted you to know. I won’t bother you anymore.”

  Detective Faber stood and so did I. He walked me toward the door.

  “Like I said, if you want to help us, Ms. Morgan, the best way is to let us do our job. You could be putting yourself and the investigation at risk. We’ll continue to talk with Mr. Sloane, your Miller Thornton.” He held the door open. “Oh, by the way, we don’t have to tell you this, but since you seem determined to meddle, Thornton has a verified alibi for the time period linked to Abby Caldwell’s death. He’s also been cleared of Rory’s death.”

  Miller had been cleared, but not me. Great.

  “Yep, you caught him, all right. He’s a librarian. His wife is self-employed in some mucky-muck finance company. They have three kids. You confronted him red-handed on his way to give a speech in L.A. He’s been nominated as a finalist for librarian of the year.” Detective Lincoln didn’t even try to hide his amusement.

  “I didn’t know.” The pit in my stomach seemed bottomless. “I’m sorry for wasting your time. He was the only one left.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Exhausted and harried from a weekend of reliving over and over my conversation with the police, I went into the office early Monday. Mark was waiting for me when I got in.

  “Morning.” I put my purse under the desk and booted up my computer. “Excuse me if I’m a little grumpy,” I said. “I’ve had a rough few days. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here this early, except for that time when you victimized the copy room.”

  “I know. I wanted to get a jump start so we could go over the Riddick matter before our next meeting with Avery.”

  I took a second look at him, trying to put the events at police headquarters out of my mind. He was dressed very GQ in a dark suit and light blue shirt with the same shade tie.

  “Do you have a court appearance today?”

  Mark grinned. “No, I just want to impress Avery with my professional look.”

  “Well, you definitely look professional. Don’t worry; I think he’s always hard on associates. They’ve never fired anyone. You passed your screening when you were hired.”

  He shrugged. “I hope so.”

  After getting coffee for Mark and tea for me, we took the files into the conference room. Our meeting with Avery wasn’t for another hour, but clearly Mark needed this dress rehearsal to calm down.

  He did a great job providing more than adequate answers to my mock questions. We were ready.

  I leaned back in the chair. “So, tell me, how are things with Rena?”

  He glanced up as if trying to place the question with what we were doing then smiled. “Good. Actually, really good. I like her.”

  “Just think; I may be responsible for bringing a happy couple together. I hope it works out.”

  “You hope what works out?” Avery entered the room and shut the door.

  Mark and I both straightened in our seats.

  “Good morning, Avery. Mark was just telling me about a young woman he’s dating.”

  “Really? Well, I hope things work out, too.” He put on his reading glasses. “You two ready? Let’s get started.”

  If Mark was nervous, he didn’t show it. He restated the directions we were given and how we approached the research. For the next thirty minutes, he discussed the applicable case law and appeals. By the time he presented our findings, I was impressed. He finished with a flourish by laying out all the signed documents in front of Avery.

  Avery remained attentive throughout the presentation. Then he nodded and flipped through the documents. “Looks like you’ve done a lot of hard work. What about Glen Riddick?”

  I frowned. “Who?”

  Mark looked puzzled. “Who’s Glen Riddick?”

  Avery shook his head. “Glen Riddick is Imelda’s husband’s grandchild as a result of a relationship prior to his marriage to Imelda.”

  I sat up. “Avery, you never mentioned a grandchild. In fact, you said all the relations were on her side. How were we to know?”

  Mark held up a file. “I have your notes here. There’s nothing about a grandchild.”

  Avery shook his head. “I said from the very beginning
we were trying to substantiate Imelda’s right to have the estate determined based on her early, but still valid, will. I would think one of the first things you would have done was look at Charles Riddick’s background to verify any possible claims from his side of the family.”

  “Why would we?” I said. “You told us she only had nieces and nephews.” I was getting irritated. “Why didn’t you bring this up at our last team meeting?”

  Avery just looked at me. “It’s called complete work.” He turned to Mark. “I don’t hold you responsible, Hollis, but, Mark, I’m surprised at you. Well, maybe not surprised, but I was hoping for more.”

  Mark snorted. “Was I being tested? This is load of crap. All this time you said nothing.”

  Mark’s eyes were unreadable but, judging from the tension rising off his shoulders and the red flush creeping above his shirt collar, he wasn’t happy.

  Avery seemed unfazed. “Not tested in the sense you mean. I did want to see if you would take my word for it or take the initiative and question every premise. You failed. Isn’t that what you told me last time—that you wanted to show initiative? That’s the difference between a good attorney and a merely adequate one. Follow through.” He stacked the file folders. “So, where do we go from here? I’ve decided that, in the essence of time, I’ll contact Glen Riddick and obtain his signature.”

  I felt more than a growing annoyance with Avery and increasing sympathy for Mark. “Avery, I should have caught this, too. I’ve done dozens of estate claims. I should have checked both sides.”

  “As much as you’d like to be, Hollis, you’re not an attorney. He is.” He pointedly put the cap back on his pen. “Mark, I got your memo regarding the value of the Riddick estate and your ideas for exploring other accounts. I’m not going to say this again. Drop this. If you’d done your job and reviewed all potential estate claims, instead of speculating on some hypothetical supposition, you wouldn’t be sitting here with another assignment falling short. Triple D may have to rethink your contribution to the firm.”