by Essie Lang
Shelby clapped her hands. “I’d love to win that one. That’s very generous of you.”
“Not really. The chamber of commerce pays for the prizes and it’s great for business, so I’m happy to be involved each year.”
“So, I guess you can’t win that one, but it’s got my name on it, just saying.”
“All right, as if I have anything to do with it. I’m actually holding out for the big one. Maybe, if I put in enough planning, it will happen. It wouldn’t hurt for you to get started on it, too. I think I know someone who might appreciate some pampering at that hotel.”
“Yes, you’re right, I would,” Shelby answered, refusing to rise to the bait. “But then again, so would Edie.”
“Oh, right. Edie. Hmm. I guess being partners, you’d either have to go together … or arm wrestle for it.” Erica grinned at the thought, while Shelby looked stricken.
Their orders arrived quickly, and they both concentrated on eating for a few minutes. Finally, Erica spoke. “Do you really think it’s purely business between Bryce and Rachel?”
Shelby tried to think of something to say that would set Erica’s mind at rest once and for all. Nothing came to her. “Yes, I truly do. Rachel is very ambitious, and having an agent has got to be up there on her to-do list. Now, will you get your mind back on track about Christmas?” Or, she might even try to seduce him to get to that end, Shelby thought, but quickly tried to erase it from her mind.
Erica grinned and went back to eating. They lingered as long as they could after finishing their meals but decided it wouldn’t be right to stay any longer, with a line forming.
As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Erica unexpectedly handed Shelby a small white paper bag with the Chocomania logo on it.
“What’s this?”
“This is for your dessert, and to thank you for making me feel better earlier, and once again just now.”
Shelby peered inside, although it was getting darker. “My favorite. Truffles. How did you ever guess?” She gave Erica a quick hug before they parted ways, Erica scooting across the street while Shelby continued straight ahead.
She ate one of the truffles—ginger lime—on the way home while watching the streetlights beaming along the way. She hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. She tucked the remaining truffles in her purse and searched for her key, finding it and transferring it to her pocket.
She’d enjoyed having dinner with her best friend. That was a comforting thought. Far better than another evening thinking about murder.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
As Shelby stepped onto her dock, she heard the sound of footsteps crunching across the parking lot behind her. Oh, no. Not again.
She spun around to check who was there, surprised to see Rachel. Again.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” she joked, although her heart pounded in her chest. She didn’t like to be surprised, especially at night.
“Oh, I agree,” Rachel said, moving closer but without any similar playfulness in her voice. She sounded deadly serious.
“What can I do for you, Rachel?” She took a couple of small steps backward.
“Believe me, I only wanted to have another talk with you, but I think we’re way past that at this point.”
The tone of her voice didn’t give any hints as to what was coming next, but Shelby didn’t like where this was going. She squared her shoulders and tried to look like she was driving the conversation. “What does that mean?”
“I’ve tried to avoid this, believe me, Shelby. I like you. I like all booksellers, especially now, when I’ll have a publishing contract soon. I had hoped you’d support me, hold a book signing or even the launch, talk me up to all your customers.”
“I can do that. You just have to let us know when it’s out.” Shelby felt unnerved, and the thought crossed her mind that maybe she should call someone. Where was her phone? Why didn’t she have Chief Stone on speed dial?
“Oh, I will, and it won’t be long now. You know, Bryce O’Connell as good as offered to represent my new book, the one about Matthew Kessler’s wife. You see, he wants to help authors.”
She obviously didn’t know that Shelby had talked to Bryce.
Rachel’s smile turned into something more sinister. “But you don’t really want to help me, do you? You’ve made that fairly obvious. Of course, you’re only half of Bayside Books, aren’t you? Maybe your aunt can help me, if you’re not around.” She planted her feet, then continued.
“And, to top all that, you wouldn’t even connect me with Matthew Kessler. I asked you nicely, but it didn’t work, did it? He could have been a big help to my career. What bugs me is that he could even have provided me with the research for this book. I’m sure he has a lot of research and newspaper articles filed away, although I couldn’t find it. But now, since you didn’t do your bit, I have to rely on my own methods to get that information, and I can. Just as soon as I sign with Bryce O’Connell, I’ll be all set.”
“You’ve found an agent. That’s great news, Rachel. That should do the trick.” Shelby tried to inject as much enthusiasm into her voice as possible rather than giving way to the ominous feeling that had started to grow in the pit of her stomach. “But you know, I did warn you about Matthew, how he guards his privacy.”
“That’s your story, but I know I can convince him otherwise. But that won’t happen with you standing between us. I need him. I need this story. My books haven’t been selling too great, but this one would be a big thing. And do you know why? Think of it. Best-selling author, accused of murdering his wife, drops off the radar and then turns up as a caretaker. What’s happened over those years with the case? Do the police have any more information? Is Kessler back in the frame, or was he never out of it? And most importantly, why is he hiding out on a small island?”
“He’s not hiding out, Rachel. He just doesn’t like the attention. Not everyone does.” She doubted Rachel could relate to that.
“The word according to Shelby.”
The tone of her voice sent shivers down Shelby’s back.
“And do you know what else, Shelby? I also know you’ve been asking questions about me. Do you think I would kill someone, Shelby?” She moved a step closer. “Do you really think that I would kill Savannah, even though she deserved it.”
Deserved it? “I don’t think that, Rachel. I just want to find out what happened, but I don’t know enough about anyone to suggest she or he is a killer.”
Shelby noticed a small movement behind Rachel and to the left. It sort of looked like Erica was ducking into the boat shed. Was it her? At least someone was in there. Could that person tell what was going on? And did he or she have a cell phone to call for help?
“What are you afraid of, Rachel?” Shelby asked a little more loudly. She wanted to signal Erica, or whoever was there, that things were not right here.
“Is this the part where you question me and start recording on your phone? Pull out your cell phone, Shelby.”
Shelby realized she might have underestimated Rachel—not her determination but her sanity. She pulled the phone out of her purse and held it up for her to see.
“Good. Now throw it in the water.”
Shelby groaned. “Not really? It will get ruined.” And worse might happen to me.
Rachel pulled her hand out of her pocket and waved a small gun at Shelby. “I’m not kidding.”
Shelby felt all the blood drain out of her face. She struggled to keep her voice steady. “No, okay, take it easy. I can see that you have a gun.” Could she be heard? She tossed the phone into the river. “There, now what do you want?”
“I wasn’t really sure what I would say to you, but I guess things have sort of accelerated now, haven’t they? How can I stop at this point? I’ve said more than I should, and I know you’ll be sure to call the police if I let you go. I don’t have time for that, and for sure, I’m not going to jail. I have a book to write. This time, no one will take it from me. It’s my tu
rn, isn’t it? I’ve already paid my dues.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You think you’re so smart, but you don’t know anything. Savannah Page may have been a good writer, but she was a fraud. She used other people’s ideas and hard work.”
“What makes you say that?” Had she been talking to Jenna?
“I know because we were part of the same online critiquing group at one time, and so I reached out to her with a story idea. She was encouraging about it and even offered to read what I had written. I was a fool to send it to her, of course, but she was a famous author. Who would think she’d do something like steal it?”
“What are you saying? Which book are we talking about?” Not another writer wanting to set a story in Blye Castle.
“I hadn’t finished it—in fact, I’d written only a few chapters—but I sent my outline and everything. I’d been working really hard researching the story for over a year. I had great hopes for it. And then, there it is, published under Savannah’s name.”
“Do you mean Lies and Deaths? That’s the book you were working on? What happened after you sent it to her?”
Rachel nodded. “Oh, she eventually got back to me, all right, but she said it needed a lot more work. She even suggested that I spend more time developing another angle. I trusted her, so that’s what I was doing when I saw on Twitter that she’d written the same book and it had just been published. Hindsight is weird, right? I should just have finished it and sent it out to a publisher.”
The conversation was beginning to feel very weird to Shelby. She hoped to keep it continuing for a while, at least until she could figure out what to do, or until help arrived. If it actually would.
“What were you planning to do about it?” she asked. “As you said, the book’s already been written.”
“She agreed to have coffee with me after the signing, which I knew was just a ploy on her part. She must have had some excuse ready. Or maybe a payoff. Money would have been nice.”
Rachel waved the gun in Shelby’s direction and continued. “Depending on how it went, I planned to either break the story in the New York Times or take her to court. Or take the money and run.”
Shelby nodded, trying desperately to think of how to distract Rachel and maybe get that gun out of her hand. Hopefully, Erica, if it had been Erica, had phoned Chief Stone by now and she’d be arriving any minute.
“So, since you missed the coffee date, you went to the island to talk to her, right? How did you get into the castle? How did you even get over to the island?”
“As I’ve already told you, I know this area. When I was a kid, my family would often bring visitors to this area for tours of the castles. I knew about the passages and about the outside entrance. I also knew which room she’d be staying in that night. The volunteers around there like to talk. So, I came in through the underground passages, hoping to sneak into her room and grab her laptop. It would have my chapters and emails, the proof I needed. But she wasn’t in her room sleeping. She was wandering around. When I came up the staircase, she was there, and she sure was surprised. Shocked, actually.” Rachel allowed a small smile. “We argued, of course, when I accused her. She lost her balance and fell backwards down the stairs. That was it.”
Or you pushed her. Chief Stone wondered about the bruising on the body. Did you check to see if she was alive? How could you just step around her body and leave?
“It sounds like an accident,” Shelby said instead. “In that case, you should explain everything to the police.”
“I’m not that dumb. Why would they believe me? I’m better off just getting away from here.”
“You haven’t really planned this through.”
Shelby saw the puzzled expression on Rachel’s face, which disappeared as fast as it had appeared, so she jumped in. “Where would you go, for starters? The police are pretty smart, and they have a lot of resources. They’re sure to eventually find out the truth and track you.”
“I’m sure I’ll figure it out once I tie up the loose ends.” The look of confidence was back.
“What do you plan to do with me?” It had to be asked.
Rachel looked at the gun in her hand. “I’m sorry to do this. I hadn’t started out to be a murderer.” She looked back at Shelby, a smile on her face. “But, in fact, this could be good research.”
Shelby started shivering uncontrollably but noticed motion again. It was indeed Erica. She now was moving cautiously from the shed towards the dock, a plank of wood in her hands.
If she hit a crunchy part of the parking lot … Shelby started to sing, loudly. She wasn’t aware what she was singing, but she kept on going, to cover up any noise.
Rachel stopped advancing and stared at her like she’d gone mad.
That gave Erica a chance to run. Rachel turned toward the noise and Shelby launched at her.
She landed on Rachel as the gun fired. Shelby stayed on top of Rachel, but looked for Erica. Please let her be okay. She let out the breath she’d been holding when she saw Erica get to her feet from where she’d ducked, several feet away.
Shelby looked for the gun. It wasn’t in Rachel’s hand. She spotted it laying on the dock, just a foot or so away.
Rachel saw it too and elbowed Shelby, jostling to push her off. Shelby rolled to her right, stopping herself before she slid off the dock. She hit Rachel in the chest with her bent knee, sending her off-balance and into the river. The splash sounded colossal.
Shelby crawled over to the edge, trying to see if Rachel had stayed afloat and if she’d managed to grab the gun as she fell.
Erica reached Shelby, the plank in one hand and her cell phone in the other. She switched on the flashlight and shone it on the water, finding Rachel, who sputtered while thrashing about. Shelby couldn’t see a gun in her hand, but it wasn’t on the dock any longer either. Rachel had started swimming toward the shore.
“We can’t let her escape,” Shelby shouted, pushing herself up and stumbling to the end of the dock. Erica almost bumped into her when she stopped abruptly. “Where did she go?”
Erica shone the light back over the surface of the water and then along the shore. No sign of Rachel. After a second scanning, they saw her pulling herself onto the next dock just as a police car pulled into the lot, siren on and lights flashing. Chief Stone jumped out of the SUV and pointed her gun toward them. Erica directed the light in Rachel’s direction, and she watched with Shelby as the chief strode quickly toward the dripping Rachel. When she had the handcuffs securely in place, Stone looked at them and gave a little wave.
Shelby hugged Erica, and they stood like that for several minutes, breathing heavily.
They heard the door of the SUV being opened and shut; then Chief Stone walked their way. “That was a close call, I’d say. Nice work calling me, Erica. And you, Missy Shelby, can’t you stay out of trouble?”
“Believe me, Chief, I’ll try even harder from now on.”
“Huh. Somehow I doubt it. So, what have you got to tell me about this person?”
Erica waved her phone. “I taped it after calling you, Chief. Rachel as good as admitted to killing Savannah. You can take this, but I want it back as soon as possible, okay?”
Shelby asked, “Can I borrow it first?” She peered into the water, shining the beam where she thought her phone might have landed, but it was too murky. Her hands were shaking so hard she had to use them both. With a deep sigh, she finally passed it back to Erica.
“Darn. I’ll miss that phone.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Shelby woke to the sound of someone pounding on her front door. She glanced at the bedside clock. Six thirty AM, usually a good time to be getting up, but not so much after the night she’d had. J.T. leaped out of her way as she swung her legs out of bed and grabbed her robe. In bare feet, she hurried downstairs and over to the door, glancing out before opening it. Zack! Uh-oh. She’d been hoping to fill him in before he heard about her standoff with Rachel.
/> He was in the room before she’d finished pulling the door completely open.
“Why didn’t you call me last night? I would have come over. What do you think you were doing, anyway? Do you realize that you could have been killed?” He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you?”
“Yes, I do realize it. I was there.” The realization still scared her, and she felt the need to act tough.
He wrapped his arms around her and then quickly released her. “I don’t get it, Shelby,” he said, pacing around the small room. He also sounded argumentative. “I warned you not to get involved. We’ve been through this before. You were almost killed a few months ago. Do you have a death wish?”
“Now, just a minute,” she said, hugging herself. She missed the brief warmth of his arms. “I tried to not get involved. I really did, but it just kept snowballing. And I wish you wouldn’t yell at me.”
“I know, I shouldn’t. But how else can I get through to you?” He walked back to her and pulled her into his arms again. “I worry about you, you know?”
“I do know, and believe me, I appreciate it,” she mumbled into his jacket. She pulled away and started her own pacing. “You worry about me, and Aunt Edie worries about me. That’s a lot of responsibility for me.” She tried to make light of it. She wasn’t sure how to handle it other than to burst into tears, and that wouldn’t do. “And I haven’t even had my coffee.”
She marched over to the counter, pulled out the coffeemaker, and got it started. She grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard while she waited, unwilling to turn around and face Zack. He didn’t say anything, but she could hear him sit down at the counter behind her. When the coffee was ready, she turned and slid a mug toward him, then took a slow sip from her own before settling on the stool next to him.
“I am sorry, you know,” she finally said after a couple more sips.
“I know, and I am, too. I shouldn’t have barged in and gone at you like that. It’s just that when Chief Stone called to tell me, I went a bit …”
