Death on the Page
Page 25
“Out of control?”
The smile of his that she liked so much was back. “Yeah, that about covers it.”
“Why would the chief call you, anyway? You told me you weren’t involved in the investigation.”
“Seriously? You don’t think people know how I feel about you, even if you aren’t ready to accept it yourself?”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, but it was as good an opening as any.
“So, just how do you feel about me?” She was almost afraid to look at him, but she needed to see those eyes.
He put his mug down, reached for hers and also set it on the counter, then took her hands in his.
“I’m nuts about you, Shelby Cox. I probably should have come right out and said it before this, but I know you’ve been hesitant, so I didn’t want to push you. So I won’t ask how you feel about me. Not at this moment. But maybe we can discuss it some more over dinner tonight, at my place?”
She nodded, not sure she could speak.
“Good. Now, I’m sorry to run out on you like this, but I have to be in court first thing this morning, so I need to get going. I’ll see you at six?”
“I’ll be there.”
He leaned over and kissed her. She could tell he wanted to say and do more, but he pulled himself away. She was smiling as she got ready for work.
* * *
Shelby’s day was divided between being interviewed by Chief Stone, who had agreed to do it at the bookstore, and talking on the phone with Edie, reassuring her that she’d not been injured, nor even gotten wet. Then she had to stop at Edie’s after work and let her see for herself.
“I don’t think my heart can take much more of this, Shelby, you getting yourself in danger.” She stood with her hand over her heart, the jangling of her bracelet getting softer.
Shelby smiled and patted Edie’s arm. “Your heart is fine, Aunt Edie. It’s your knee we’re worried about.”
“Nice try, but not reassuring.” She sighed. “I just wish you wouldn’t get mixed up in these things.”
After leaving Edie, Shelby hurried home, freshened up, and changed before walking over to Zack’s house. She felt a bit anxious as she knocked on the door, but that disappeared as soon as he opened it. He gave her a quick kiss.
“I’m sorry, I’m at the critical stirring-without-stopping spot in the recipe. I’ve poured a glass of wine for you,” he said, pointing to the table.
“Thanks.” She shrugged out of her jacket and draped it over a chair. “That smells delicious, whatever it is.”
“It’s my top-secret sauce, yet another of my specialties.”
“I’m even more impressed, although you don’t have to do anything more to convince me.”
“No?” He turned around and looked at her, suddenly serious.
“No.”
He grinned and went back to stirring.
“Can I help?”
“Just make yourself comfortable while I grill you some more about what happened last night.”
She groaned, but knew it had to happen. She sat at a stool at the counter. She loved the open kitchen design, much like her own.
“So, what tipped you off to Rachel?” He glanced at her. “Aside from what you’ve already said about her.”
“Huh. I’ll admit that, at first, I just found her a bit pushy and annoying, especially after finding her in the castle. But I hadn’t connected the dots to accusing her of murder.”
“Which didn’t really matter, because you stirred things up enough that she felt she had to make a move, namely, to eliminate you.”
“True. What I didn’t know anything about was Rachel’s claim that Savannah had stolen the idea for her latest book. It seems that Savannah had a recent history of stealing ideas. I find it hard to believe, but there it is.”
“Who thought crime writing could be so deadly?”
Shelby looked at Zack, but his back was to her. “Anyway, after Savannah’s death, Rachel started asking all about Matthew and was so upset when he wouldn’t meet her. If you’ll remember, I did wonder if she’d been the one who had broken into his house.”
“I never forget things, Shelby.” He had finished plating the white fish with sauce and roasted potatoes he’d made and set her plate in front of her, pausing to squeeze her shoulder.
Her shoulder tingled where he had touched it. “What surprised me,” she went on, “was learning from the chief that Rachel is Frank White’s niece.”
“She is, and that gave her access to information about the castle, and to a boat.”
“How did you know? Have you already heard the story?”
“Chief Stone did share some details with me,” he admitted as he sat down across from her.
“Ha. I thought you said you weren’t on really good terms with her.”
“I can be persuasive.” He had come around the counter, taken her hand, and led her over to the table.
“Hmm, I know. So what else did she tell you?”
“Frank White didn’t know that Rachel had used his boat to get over to the island, but he did start wondering after the murder, especially since Rachel had asked a lot of questions about where he’d be staying that night, and which room was for the author. Anyway, Frank didn’t do anything because she’s his sister’s daughter.” Zack slipped a forkful of the fish into his mouth and seemed pleased with the taste. “What I haven’t heard is her motive.”
“Rachel said she wanted to steal Savannah’s laptop, because she figured the proof that Savannah had stolen her plot was on it, but I don’t think she was being rational. Surely Savannah would have erased any emails or information that Rachel had sent. Anyway, they struggled at the top of the stairs, and the fall was an accident.”
“Or so she says. You do know she stole the plans from the castle?”
“Why would she do that? According to Rachel, she’s seen them before, and also she knows the castle fairly well after all those years of visiting it.”
“According to Chief Stone,” Zack said, “Rachel found the plans in the suite while she was searching for the laptop and decided they might come in handy.”
“Savannah took them to start with? Wow, I didn’t see that coming. Why? Maybe to help with her research? But I also find it hard to believe that Savannah might have stolen plots for her books, not once but twice. What are the chances of two writers accusing her of the same thing if it wasn’t true?”
Zack shrugged. “Do you really want to know if it’s true?”
Shelby thought a moment. “No, I guess not. She’s still dead, regardless of what she may or may not have done. The penalty sure wasn’t appropriate to the crime.”
“And you sang? Seriously?” His face eased from looking grim to amused.
“Who told you that?”
“Chief Stone. It was recorded on Erica’s phone, you know. Not a bad voice, but you suck at lyrics.” He watched her face like he was memorizing it, then leaned across the table and kissed her.
Later, after coffee and a truffle, Zack led her over to the sofa.
“I know this won’t make much difference,” he said. “But I hope you’ve realized how dangerous it can be, trying to investigate a murder. You really do have to give up this sideline of yours.”
“Uh-huh.” She was finding it hard to concentrate with his hand massaging the back of her neck.
“Have you given any thought to what I said this morning?”
“Uh-huh.” She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all day. “And I have to admit that I’m nuts about you, too.”
She’d meant to say more, like how she was still a bit hesitant, no, scared. But he kissed her for a long time, and that was just fine with Shelby.
After Zack had walked her home and they’d shared one final, lingering good-night kiss, she bundled up and went to the top deck, sitting on a chair and staring out toward the river. She felt happy. She felt loved. She felt safe.
This was her home now, and that made her happy, too.
>
She thought for a moment about what she’d said to Edie.
“Don’t worry. This is sleepy Alexandria Bay. What else can happen?”
Also available by Essie Lang
Trouble on the Books
Author Biography
Essie Lang has been nominated for an Agatha Award for Best First Novel and has also been short-listed for an Arthur Ellis Award from Crime Writers of Canada for Best Short Story under other pennames. She is a former mystery bookstore owner and still loves reading all the mysteries she can get her hands on. She also loves choral singing, which is not always so pleasant for her Siamese cat, Keesha, who must endure hours of practice.
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Linda Wiken
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-64385-294-2
ISBN (ebook): 978-1-64385-315-4
Cover illustration by Teresa Fasolino
Book design by Jennifer Canzone
Printed in the United States.
www.crookedlanebooks.com
Crooked Lane Books
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New York, NY 10001
First Edition: March 2020
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