by Essie Lang
Without giving it much thought, Shelby dialed the police station and was pleased when Chief Stone answered. She realized, too late, that she hadn’t given much thought to what she wanted to say.
“Hi, Chief Stone. It’s Shelby. I was just wondering if it was okay to go over to the store today, or is the castle still off-limits?” That sounded reasonable, although she had no plans to follow through.
“Yes, it is accessible today. I’m surprised you weren’t notified. Anyway, everything is back on track.”
“Well, not really everything, right? Have you determined how Savannah Page died?” She crossed her fingers that she’d get an answer.
Stone didn’t answer for a few seconds. “It is against my better judgment to tell you, but I know you’ll find out soon enough. Ms. Page was murdered.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I do know what I’m doing, Shelby. And the coroner agrees. From the way the body landed and the bruising on it, it appears she was pushed and fell backward. Now, that is all I’m saying about this. I have to get back to work. You take care, Shelby.”
Shelby shivered as she hung up. Take care? Murder? Of course, she’d wondered if there had been foul play, and now that she knew, what should she do? Nothing, according to Zack, the chief, and probably Edie. But she knew she couldn’t just leave it. She had some questions and knew she wouldn’t hear the answers from Chief Stone.
So, where to start?
With the only other person they knew for sure had been in the castle.
She wanted to talk to Frank White, the butler. Of course, “the butler did it” was trite, and what could his motive possibly be? He was from the Bay, so what connection could he possibly have had to Savannah? Shelby wouldn’t know until she asked him. Well, maybe not straight out, but she knew he was at the top of her list of suspects at the moment.
She decided on a visit to the soup kitchen where Frank volunteered, before seeing Liam. There was only one in town, so it wouldn’t be a problem to find it. Hopefully that’s where he’d be at this hour of the day. Otherwise, she’d have to find another way of tracking him down.
She watched as J.T. slowly uncurled and stretched before jumping to the floor. The chocolate-brown faux-velvet slipper chair was no longer a solid color, matted here and there with cat fur. She’d tackle that and all the other furniture when she got back home. But now, she’d do the floors.
By ten thirty she felt the cleaning part of her day could come to an end and the running-around phase could begin. She started by heading upstairs to get changed. Twenty minutes later she’d turned left on Market Street, a direction she didn’t often take. There, close to the corner of Fuller, the sandwich-board sign for the Bay Food Focus caught her eye. She pushed open the door to the soup kitchen, wondering how busy it would be at this time of day.
The room was twice the size of Bayside Books and was filled with tables, each with a white tablecloth and eight place settings. The kitchen was visible at the end of the room, and several tables with heating pan holders were positioned in a line, providing a barrier between the two spaces. At the table closest to the kitchen, three women sat drinking coffee. From the aprons they wore and the hairnets pulled over their heads, Shelby guessed they were volunteers on a break.
“Can you tell me if Frank White is here this morning?” Shelby asked as she approached them, and they turned her way.
“Yeah. He’s just taking the trash out,” the youngest of the three answered, waving her hand toward the kitchen. “Just hang out and he’ll be back in a jiff.”
Shelby smiled and nodded. She walked over to a chalkboard on which the day’s menu had been written. Beef barley soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, green salad, and chocolate pudding.
She heard the back door open and looked over at the tall, thin man in the beige flannel shirt who’d just entered. He also had on an apron but no hairnet. Probably because he had very little hair, or maybe it was just too light to see. His wire-framed glasses added a look of studiousness, although Shelby could easily picture him in a black tailored suit and white gloves, holding the chair for Savannah Page at breakfast. Sadly, she hadn’t been alive to have that breakfast.
Giving her head a shake to toss aside the disquieting thought, Shelby walked over to him and offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Shelby Cox, from Bayside Books. I wonder if you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Frank White, although I gather you know that already. You want to talk to me right now?”
“That’s right. I hope you don’t mind my stopping by to see you like this. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you have the time.”
“I gather you’re not the police.”
“No, I’m not. I’m one of the owners of Bayside Books, and Savannah Page had done a signing at the castle location that afternoon. I was just so shocked by what happened. I hope you don’t mind if I just try to get a little closure.”
He nodded and pointed to the table on the opposite side of the room from the women. He waited until Shelby took a seat, then asked, “What can I do for you? It was certainly a shock all around. I only met Ms. Page briefly, when I arrived at the castle in the evening, and she didn’t bother me for anything before turning in. I waited a half hour or so after she said good-night, then turned in myself.”
“You were staying in the nanny’s room?”
“Is that what it was? I guess, if you say so.”
“How would you hear if she needed anything?”
“She had a bell, a real noisy thing that would wake the dead.”
“Had she talked about the fact that she would be wandering around, exploring the castle, so that you wouldn’t be surprised if you heard something?”
“Nope, not a word about that. She asked me a bit about myself and said she’d try not to be a pest. That’s what she said. A pest. Huh.” He looked so uncomfortable that Shelby felt sorry for him. He obviously hadn’t signed on for a death as part of his duties.
“Had you ever met Savannah before this weekend?”
“Nope, and I didn’t really know a thing about her except that my niece is a big fan of her books. I don’t read much, but when I do, it’s science fiction. Can’t get enough of that stuff.”
“Really?” I never would have thought it. “So you hadn’t met her during her stay at the Skyliner Hotel?”
He shook his head. “I retired from that job a good two years ago. I haven’t been there much since then. There weren’t too many people I wanted to keep in touch with. Most of my friends retired around the same time.”
“Hmm. Did you see anyone wandering around outside the castle before you turned in?”
“Nope. I thought I might see that Kessler guy at some point checking things out. I’d met him once a long time ago but didn’t see him that night. And, before you ask, I have no idea how anyone got into the castle. From what I could see, the doors and windows were all locked when I turned in. Mind you, I didn’t really check them closely. That wasn’t one of my duties. And no, I didn’t know a thing about those underground tunnels.”
So he hadn’t heard about them or known if they led outdoors. She tried to think of what else she should ask him but noticed he kept looking at the clock on the wall. He must have chores to do before they opened for the lunch crowd.
“Thanks for talking to me. I won’t take up any more of your time,” she said standing. She noticed that the women had gone back into the kitchen at some point during her chat with Frank.
“You’re welcome, though I know I didn’t help much. Like I said, that was a real tragedy, and I feel pretty badly that it happened on my watch.” He shrugged. “I don’t know that I could have done anything even if I’d been awake. By the way, if you ever have any free time, we can always use a helping hand around here, especially when it comes to dishing out the food. You don’t have to be a cook, you know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” And she fully intended to do so.
Her next st
op was to see Liam, and she power-walked over to the Skyliner Hotel, more for the exercise than to get there quickly. She asked for Liam at the front desk. He was still registered, and she was directed to the house phone in the lobby. After the few seconds it took for the call to connect, he answered fairly quickly and invited her up to his room.
Shelby was totally surprised when she walked into it to find Brad Pitt’s double sitting comfortably in the only guest chair. He stood and walked over to her, hand outstretched. “I’m Bryce O’Connell, Savannah’s agent. Liam’s told me who you are. I came as soon as I heard what happened to Savannah. I’m still in shock. I can’t believe Savannah’s gone.”
They both glanced at Liam, who’d let out a muffled sound.
“I’m sorry, Liam, but we need to talk about it, about her,” Bryce said.
Liam nodded. “I know. It’s just that I don’t think it’s totally sunk in yet. Have you heard any details, Shelby? The police chief isn’t sharing much information with me.” He indicated she should sit on the bed, so she perched on the end of the unmade king.
“Nothing. I was in the store yesterday when they, uh, found her, but the police wouldn’t let me open. In fact, the entire castle was closed to tourists for the day. I was questioned and then sent home. I just wanted to tell you, Liam, how sorry I am for your loss. I didn’t really know Savannah all that well, but I certainly enjoyed the time we spent together.”
“Thanks, Shelby. She spoke highly of you, you know. You did make quite an impression.” He walked over to the window and stood staring out at the river.
I did? It was a nice thought, but surprising.
Bryce patted Liam’s right shoulder, then walked over to sit beside Shelby on the bed. He lowered his voice. “I’d think, being located right in the castle, that you’ll hear things as the investigation continues. Would you consider keeping me in the loop? I feel we both need some closure here.” He glanced over at Liam, who hadn’t moved. “I understand you were an editor at one time.”
“Yes, at Masspike Publishing. How did you know?”
His laugh was quiet and short. “You must remember that very few things are private in the publishing industry. Besides, I looked up your bookstore when Savannah told me she’d arranged some signings. In fact, I checked up on everything to do with Blye Castle.”
“Why?” She was curious. She’d never gotten that involved with a client’s writing or life. Of course, that might be one of the differences between being an editor and being an agent.
He shrugged. “Savannah could be on the intense side. She’d get an idea, say, staying overnight in a castle or writing about the ghost of a Prohibition-era gangster, and jump right in. I tried to keep her grounded.”
“It sounds like you were close.”
He glanced at Liam again. “Maybe we could go out for a coffee and continue our chat?”
Shelby also looked at Liam, at his sagging shoulders and air of sadness. She had really wanted to talk to him, but what else could she say at this point? It would border on intrusion. But Bryce was another matter, and it sounded like he might have some answers.
“Sure. There’s a restaurant downstairs, or over a few blocks there’s a really cool coffee shop, Chocomania, owned by my good friend Erica.”
“I’m a chocolate man, myself. I’ll just say a few words to Liam and meet you downstairs?”
What could she say to that? “Sure. Uh, goodbye, Liam. Again, I’m so, so sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Liam turned toward her, and she could see that his eyes were red as tears slid down his cheek. “Thank you, Shelby. Thank you for coming over.”
She nodded and left the room as Bryce walked over to Liam. After about ten minutes, he joined her in the lobby.
“I feel so bad. I really do wish there was something I could do to help,” Shelby said as they crossed the parking lot.
“There might be.”
Shelby looked at Bryce. He didn’t stop walking but after several more steps continued, “I’m serious about wanting to know how the investigation is going. I think both Liam and I are owed that much, but the police aren’t talking. And since you work in the castle, I thought you might pick up on things, like something the officers might let slip as they’re investigating or what the talk is around the castle. People love to speculate, and often there’s some truth involved.”
“I really don’t want to get on the wrong side of the police,” Shelby said, but refrained from adding again.
“I can understand that.”
“So, why can’t you wait to get the details? The police will inform everyone involved once they’ve got something to say or have solved the case.”
“You saw Liam. He’s a wreck, and I’m sure he will be until he has some closure. He’s blaming himself for not being there with Savannah.”
“But she wouldn’t let him join her.”
“We all know that, but it still doesn’t prevent him from feeling guilty.”
“What about you? What’s your hurry?”
He stopped and turned to her. “To be perfectly honest, besides wanting this solved, I also would like to get hold of her laptop, and I’m hoping you can help there, too. I need something to give the publisher, some hint of whether there will be a story or not. She might have left detailed notes, or maybe she’s even written enough chapters so that I can hire a ghostwriter. So to speak,” he added with a sheepish smile.
“She didn’t keep you up-to-date about the book?”
“We didn’t talk daily, you know. Also, she’d work in spurts.” He began walking again, and Shelby scurried to keep up.
“Did you ask the police about the laptop?”
“Yes, but they say they didn’t find it.”
“Are you sure she had it with her?”
“Of course she did. She used it for everything. Nothing in longhand for her.”
They’d arrived at Chocomania, and Bryce reached for the door, holding it open for Shelby as he glanced around the shop. Shelby waved at Erica, who smiled and waved back. Her eyes were on Bryce, though. Shelby gave a knowing smile and followed Bryce to the counter.
“Dynamite,” he said, slowly enunciating the word into its individual syllables. “What a cool combination—chocolate and coffee. And beauty, of course,” he added, looking straight at Erica.
Shelby smiled and made the introductions, feeling like Cupid. “Erica owns the shop, and she supplies the most amazing truffles for us to sell at the castle bookstore.”
“Even better. What would you like, Shelby?”
She placed her order for a latte and a chili-lime truffle.
“The same for me,” he said, pulling his wallet out.
“You two sit and I’ll bring it all over,” Erica said. When Bryce had turned and walked to a table, she grinned at Shelby and licked her lips.
Shelby laughed, then joined Bryce. “Tell me more about Savannah.”
“Well, to be honest, she was more than my client at one point. She was a close friend. In fact, we were involved before she met Liam.”
“Wow, that must have been hard on you, working with her so closely after that.”
Bryce leaned toward her. “At first it was, but my work always takes precedence. She felt the same way, and these days we were totally focused on her career. She was a very savvy writer, you know. She also had a sharp mind when it came to marketing.”
He waited until Erica had placed their order on the table, gave her a wide smile, then picked up the truffle. “Excuse me, pleasure before business.”
He popped it into his mouth, and Shelby watched as his eyes widened. She noticed that Erica was watching, too, from back behind the counter. In fact, she seemed extremely interested in her new customer. Interesting.
“Wow, you were right about the truffle.” He took a sip of the latte. “Savannah was my client for eight years, right from the start of her writing career. She queried me and I was immediately intrigued. We worked on he
r first manuscript a bit, and then I sold it straightaway. She put out a book every two years after that. That was the professional Savannah Page.”
Shelby had been savoring her truffle but quickly wiped her mouth with a napkin. “And the personal?”
“As I said, we dated, but for less than a year until I came to my senses. I really prefer not to mix business and pleasure, but for Savannah …” He shrugged, his hands lifted in that universal what’s a guy to do pose. “She met Liam not long after, and they got engaged a few months back. She seemed to be totally happy with him.”
He stretched his legs out to the side of the table, looking completely relaxed. “Liam was telling me that you all spent some time together. I was just wondering if Savannah had talked to you at all about this new book she was researching.”
“No, not really. She just said she was looking forward to staying overnight in the castle to do research, and she asked me some questions about Joe Cabana. She seemed fascinated by him.”
“Between you and me, she seemed a bit scattered about this book at first. She’d never written about a cold case before, but it was more than that. It was almost like she’d lost, or misplaced, her mojo. But then she got this idea about staying overnight in the castle and she was her old enthusiastic self again.”
“Do you think that’s because of the ghost?” Shelby’s grin was mischievous.
“Uh, you’ve heard. She had this thing about all that stuff—tarot cards, tea leaves, séances. I’m sure she was very open to the idea of meeting a ghost.”
“Well, that would have made readers take notice. How did you sell the book to her publisher if you know so little about it? I heard she had a contract for it.”
“No, not yet. You can’t believe all the rumors flying around. But it would have happened. Guaranteed. They loved her. We all did.”
Apparently not everyone.
Chapter Eleven
Tuesday morning it rained. Shelby stared out the window of her houseboat, watching what little activity there was on shore, while she ate breakfast. Her mind focused on the slow day about to unfold. There’d be fewer tourists, that was for sure, and those who showed up would be a soggy lot. She just hoped they’d shake off any clinging raindrops before walking through the bookstore. Since the space was so small, it could be hard to get up close to the shelves without brushing against something, usually books.
