A Story to Kill

by Lynn Cahoon

  She grabbed a cup off the sideboard in the dining room and filled it before she entered the kitchen. Shauna had been busy. Muffins, butters, and three different kinds of bread sat on the sideboard next to the three coffee pots. VANILLA, DARK, and DECAF signs were laminated and hung on each pot. If guests wandered down early, there was plenty to keep them busy until the main meal arrived.

  “Good morning,” she called out as she entered. Cat stopped short inside the kitchen. Shauna wasn’t alone. Seth Howard sat at the table, drinking coffee. Shauna set a plate of eggs, bacon, and hash browns in front of him.

  “Good morning yourself. I didn’t expect you until last call for breakfast. Usually, you spend your morning in the office.” Shauna grabbed a pitcher of orange juice and filled a glass, holding it out for her. “OJ?”

  Cat set her coffee down. “I think I’m good. Can I talk to you?”

  “Of course. I have the strata in the oven. Once I’m done slicing up the fruit bowl, I should be ready for guests.” Shauna wiped her hands on her apron. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Can I talk to you in the dining room?” Cat raised her eyebrows.

  “She wants to know what I’m doing here eating breakfast.” Seth clarified the question. “Good morning, Cat. Nice to see you’re still grumpy first thing in the morning.”

  “I am not grumpy.” Cat sighed and sat down at the table. “Okay, so I want to know what the heck you’re doing here.”

  Shauna set a plate in front of her, filled with the same food as Seth’s. The smell of bacon made Cat’s stomach growl. “It’s part of the contract. On weeks we’re in session, since he’s on call for emergencies during the week, he gets a meal a day, just to make sure he checks in with us.”

  Cat decided she really needed to read better the contracts Shauna was asking her to sign. She grabbed a piece of the crunchy bacon and shrugged. “I guess that’s okay.”

  Seth looked up from reading the morning paper. “I take it you didn’t read the fine print?”

  She pointed the bacon at him. “Not your concern, mister. Besides, I trust my staff.”

  “Well, isn’t that just dandy. I’m ‘staff ’ now, instead of your best friend.” Shauna sat down at the table and sipped on her coffee. “Next, you’ll be having me wear a uniform during our retreat weeks.”

  Not a bad idea. Cat brushed the thought away; no use getting Shauna worked up on the first day of their business adventure. “Look, I didn’t mean anything.”

  Shauna waved away her apology. “No worries. Eat your breakfast so you’ll feel more human.”

  They sat in silence for a while, Cat eating, Seth reading the paper and polishing off the food, and Shauna making a list of something in her notebook. Cat caved first and set her fork down. “So, Seth, we’re meeting at two?”

  “That’s the plan.” He didn’t look up.

  “I don’t think that will work today. Can we change our meeting to Tuesday, same time?” Maybe by then she’d have her emotions under control and would be about ready to talk about the attic, not just Seth and their history.

  “You’re the boss.” He opened the sports page of the paper.

  Cat rolled her eyes and decided she’d had enough breakfast. And definitely enough of the company around the table. She took her plate to the sink and rinsed it before putting it in the dishwasher. When Seth was in a room, she could feel his presence, just like always. Heck, she could smell him. Musk, mixed with Stetson cologne and Irish Spring from his shower. Her fingers itched, wanting to touch him. She licked her dry lips before turning around.

  “Okay, then, the dining room looks great. Let me know when everyone’s eaten, and I’ll walk them over to the library.” She glanced at her watch. “Come get me at ten if I’m not down by then.”

  She fled out of the room, not waiting for a response. She thought she heard Seth’s gentle chuckle, but maybe that was just the wind on the siding. Heading upstairs, she ran into Rose.

  “Am I too early for coffee?” Rose looked down at Cat’s travel mug.

  Cat turned sideways on the stairs and nodded toward the dining room. “Nope, it’s all set up. There’s a few treats to keep you from starving before Shauna serves a full breakfast at six.” She held up her mug. “And there’s a travel mug for each of you so you can take the coffee with you if you want to write in your room or in the living room.”

  “Perfect. Daisy’s still snoring, so I’ll bring my laptop down here.” Rose paused, before asking her question. “So are we the only ones awake?”

  “So far.” Cat watched the disappointment on the woman’s face. She really had it bad for Tom Cook. Cat would have to watch her closely to make sure she didn’t overwhelm the author during the week. Fangirl or not, the guy had paid for a quiet writing retreat, and Cat was going to honor that.

  *

  At ten, the group gathered at the foot of the stairs. Well, most of the group. Sara had left early to work at the library, and Tom wasn’t down from his room yet. Cat called up to his room using the reception phone.

  “Mr. Cook, we’re heading over to the Covington Library to get your passes. I hate to bother you if you’re writing, but I told the librarian we’d come together as a group this morning.” Cat waited for an answer, holding her breath and hoping he wouldn’t play the celebrity card and ask her to make an exception.

  “I’m slipping on my shoes right now. Sorry, I lost track of time.” Tom chuckled over the phone. “Tends to happen when I get writing. I’ll be down in a flash.”

  When Cat hung up, she saw the anticipation in Rose’s face. “We’ll be ready to go in just a few minutes.”

  Rose leaned over to her sister and whispered. “He’s coming.”

  Daisy slapped her arm. “I’ve told you to never say that to a romance writer. Now all I can think of is my next sex scene.”

  Cat bit her lip, trying not to laugh. When Tom arrived, she motioned them out on the porch in a group. “So, it’s just a quick walk to the library from here. It’s open from six in the morning until ten at night, and once you get your cards, you can work there or in the living room.” She pointed to the top floor of the house. “Soon, retreaters will have the attic area to use as well. We’re turning it into a cozy den with lots of desks and room to stretch out.”

  “It probably has mice,” Billy muttered.

  Well, aren’t you Mister Sunshine. She tried to keep her voice neutral. “We don’t have a mice problem.”

  Billy ignored her comment and caught up to Tom. “So where do you get your ideas? Have you ever stolen one from a critique group member?”

  “I’ve never stolen an idea in my life. Now, it’s said there are only seven real plot lines, so I’m sure my books are like other authors’ works. But it’s all about the voice and how you tell the story.” Tom nodded toward me. “Don’t you agree, Cat? I’ve read your work and you have a strong unique voice, even though you’re telling a story set in high school. It’s not the setting or the story, it’s the characters that we fall in love with as readers.”

  Cat nodded, glad Tom was ignoring the pointed jab and turning the question into a discussion point for the group. “Buffy was set in a high school, but my work isn’t a rip off of that story. Or at least I try not to be the same.”

  “Same but different.” Rose piped up. “That’s what all the agents quip during the writers’ conferences we attend. They want something that they can relate to and sell but isn’t already out there.”

  “Exactly,” Tom smiled at the older woman, and Cat thought Rose was going to faint. “You need to tell your story and not worry about what everyone else is doing.”

  Cat saw Billy staring at Tom, but when he noticed her attention, he turned his head. That one was going to be a problem, she just didn’t know why. She’d pull his application and do some research to see if the guy was a real threat or just a blowhard. Maybe having Seth around this week wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

  As they crossed campus to the library
building, Cat relayed the history of Covington College. Pointing out the different buildings, she focused on the places where they could write or find something to eat and, of course, the bookstore. They were meeting the head librarian, Miss Applebome, for her standard how to use the library lecture. When Cat opened the door to the library, Dean Vargas stood at the counter with Sara next to him.

  “Welcome to Covington College,” he boomed, in a not-so-library voice. Cat saw a staff member’s head jerk up at the noise, then the woman rolled her eyes and returned to her work. “We are so happy to be working with Catherine and the writer’s retreat.”

  “I didn’t know you wound up back here, Larry.” Tom stepped closer to the dean and held out a hand. “I haven’t seen you in what, ten years?”

  Dean Vargas shook Tom’s hand and then addressed the other members of the group. “Tom and I attended Covington together back in the day. He chose popular culture and I, a more academic field.”

  “Tell them the real story.” Tom smiled at Rose and dropped his voice to a fake whisper. “We both were in contention for the hand of the most beautiful English student ever. Linda and I have been married for fifteen years now. And of course, I also left school with the Covington Cup, all four years I might add.”

  “I guess the best man won.” Dean Vargas smiled as he spoke, but Cat noticed the emotion didn’t hit his eyes.

  “You won the cup four years in a row? I thought the cup had only been retired twice?” Cat studied the man. He was a popular and successful author now; she guessed that, back in the day, his professors must have seen that drive in his early years, too. Maybe the cup hadn’t always been the popularity contest it had become now.

  “The rumor is true. I was the second person in history to take the cup with me at graduation. The guy who did it before me was some sort of poet and wound up teaching at Harvard. Winning the cup is good luck.” Tom slapped Dean Vargas on the back. “Of course, coming in second four years in a row is quite the accomplishment as well.”

  “It’s a beauty contest, not an academic one.” The dean echoed her original thoughts when Cat had seen the award display earlier that year.

  “Sara is this year’s recipient.” Cat had seen the girl’s face fall with Dean Vargas’s words. “I’m sure she worked hard to win.”

  “Last year’s,” the dean corrected. “She’s a grad student this year. But yes, she’s quite the accomplished writer. You’re working on a coming of age story, correct?”

  Sara nodded, but didn’t speak.

  “Congratulations!” Tom grinned at the girl. “You should come by my room later. I brought the cup along, just for giggles. It isn’t every day you get to visit your past.”

  “I’m sure the old cup you have is just the same as the one in the display case.” Dean Vargas took a step forward and positioned himself between Tom and Sara.

  “Except it has my name engraved on the bottom four times,” Tom countered.

  Watching the men posturing, the old saying about teaching versus doing popped into Cat’s head. “I didn’t know you attended Covington. Small world.”

  With the mood broken, Dean Vargas looked at his watch. “Well, I’ll let Miss Applebome take over. Enjoy your visit to Aspen Hills.” He slapped Tom on the back. “Stop by my office before you leave and we’ll get caught up. Maybe we can have a beer down at Bernie’s to celebrate how far we’ve come from our old, poor student days.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll buy.” Tom said to the man’s back, as he’d spun around without even waiting for a response.

  Sara stepped away from the group, following the dean. “I’ll be back at the house later,” she called out to Cat.

  “That girl doesn’t know how to deal with a retreat,” Daisy said. “I doubt she’ll get a word written during the entire week.”

  Cat nodded. “Getting away from your normal life is part of the magic.” She nodded to Miss Applebome. “If you think you can find your way back, I’m going to leave you here.”

  “No worries, I’m excellent at finding my way home. I’ll take care of the group.” Tom put his arms out, making waving motions. “This way, kids; we get to meet the librarian.”

  As Billy walked past her toward the conference room where Miss Applebome stood in the doorway, Cat heard him mutter, “What a complete ass.”

  She was definitely going to look up the guy’s background, just to be safe.

  *

  By seven, Cat had found enough on “Billy Williams” to be relatively sure that wasn’t his real name. Worse, the guy had a blog page filled with comments raging against Tom Cook. If this was the same person, he claimed Tom had stolen his idea for One More Try, the book that had stormed all the lists and made the author a household name. Billy claimed they were in a critique group together in 2007 when he’d read his first chapter aloud.

  Cat printed off most of the comments and blog posts and put them in a folder. She planned to call Uncle Pete in the morning and have him look over the file. If she was right, she guessed she’d have to ask Mr. Williams to leave. Stalkers were one problem she’d never even considered when she’d put together the idea for the retreat business. Of course, she’d also assumed her guests wouldn’t be literary superstars.

  As she closed up her office for the night, she decided to take one more step. Tom needed to know about the possibility of danger. Not that she really thought the guy calling himself Billy would do anything, but she’d sleep better if she had a chat with the writer. That way he could lock his door and not agree to some late-night barhopping with the only other male in the group.

  Maybe she needed to change her application-screening process. One bad apple, she mused as she took the stairs to the second floor and knocked on Tom’s door. She’d wait until she even knew this was a problem before she changed her process. No use fixing something that wasn’t broke.

  Tom didn’t answer the first knock. She leaned in to hear if he was in the shower, but she didn’t hear running water. Voices from what she assumed was a television show via Tom’s laptop murmured through the door, but nothing else. She knocked again, louder this time and called out his name.

  Shauna came up the stairs as she was knocking. “What’s up?”

  “There’s a possible problem with Tom and another guest.” Cat knocked a third time. “Mr. Cook, I really need to talk to you.”

  “Is Rose ready to kidnap him as her personal muse?” Shauna grinned. “The woman has it bad for the guy. I sat with them tonight in the living room and after two glasses, she’ll tell you anything.”

  “It’s not Rose.” Cat reached down to the doorknob and hesitated. Please let him be dressed. “I’m coming in, Mr. Cook.”

  Cat slowly opened the door but paused in the doorway. Her wish had been granted, the guy was fully clothed—laying on one of the oriental rugs she’d just purchased for all the rooms. Blood seeped out from around his head, turning the blue rug into a darker black. She turned to Shauna and blocked her from the room. “Call Uncle Pete, and have him come over now.” Even though she knew it was too late, she added, “Tell him to send an ambulance.”

  Chapter 4

  “I’ve finished interviewing everyone, so you’re free to do whatever you had planned for today.” Uncle Pete poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot and sat at the large oak table in the kitchen. “Well, everyone except this Billy Williams character. What were you thinking, not checking him out before? I can’t believe he’d use such an obvious fake name.”

  “Honestly, it didn’t hit me until he checked in. Then, when I asked him about it, he seemed not to even get the repetition.” Cat refilled her own cup and grabbed a blueberry muffin. She hadn’t been to bed yet. After finding Tom’s body, she’d been existing on coffee and sugar. She ran her hand through her hair. “We were planning on having a free writing day, but I think we need to get everyone out of the house for a while to unwind.”

  Shauna took the muffin out of Cat’s hand. “I’ll take the crew down to the hot springs.
You’re going to bed.”

  Indian Springs was a natural hot springs that used to be just a rock formation before a local entrepreneur had bought up the land next to the national forest and put in a pool. Now the commercial spa served as a great tourist stop, the advertising complete with legends of the water’s healing property. Mostly it was a great place to swim and relax. The naturally heated water kept the place open all year. Cat had loved swimming there as a kid.

  “I think I’m going to take you up on that offer.” Cat looked at her uncle. “Can you tell me how he died?”

  “I can’t release anything until Bob Jenkins gets a look at him.” Cat blinked in surprise. “Yep, it’s the same guy. Your classmate is now the county medical examiner. He’s been in the job for three years, since Harvey passed.”

  Cat shook her head. She’d liked Harvey Newman. Since they were both widowers, Uncle Pete had always brought Harvey along to the family get-togethers. “No one should spend the holidays alone,” he’d say when she’d first asked him why Harvey was at their Christmas dinner. She’d been ten then, and her parents had still lived in the little ranch house across town. Now they were living in a senior complex in Florida, citing their inability to take the Colorado winters. Cat had understood, but she’d missed visiting when they’d lived on opposite ends of the country. Now that she’d moved back to Aspen Hills, at least she had Uncle Pete. And Shauna. And Seth. She involuntarily shook her head against the idea. Seth was her past. Just like Michael. The only difference was Seth would be here working on the house in less than an hour.

  “I didn’t know Harvey had died. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come back for the funeral.” Cat focused her tired eyes on her uncle.

  “You were still upset about the whole Michael thing. I didn’t want you to have to come back and see him with whatever co-ed he’d shacked up with that week. I swear, that man went through women like some men change their shirts. I can’t believe you two stayed married as long as you did.” Uncle Pete stood and drained his cup. “I’ve got to be going. A murder is a big thing in our little town. I’ve got a meeting with the mayor and the president of the college in less than an hour. And the press is going to jump on this sooner or later. You need to be prepared.”