by Kylie Logan
“I have been. Honest.” I crossed a finger over my heart. “Sitting right here and taking it easy.”
“And hosting all those people tomorrow?”
I picked up the list and waved it. “I’ve already called all of them and told them the meeting is here. Except for you. I didn’t call you because I knew you’d be here. And I talked to Luella’s daughter, Meg. She was all excited, she figured I had guests again and she’d be back to doing my baking. She got over her disappointment fast enough, though, when I told her about the meeting and we’ve come up with a menu for tomorrow night. Nothing elaborate. Some finger foods, bottles of Kate’s wine. Tracy from the fudge shop will be here and she says they have new flavors—cinnamon pumpkin, chocolate and banana cheesecake, and coconut rum—and she offered to bring samples, so that means we won’t need dessert. So I’ve gotten a lot done, and I swear, I haven’t moved a muscle, and since Kate and Luella said they’ll be happy to help, I won’t have anything to do tomorrow, either.”
“And Chandra?”
Automatically, my gaze traveled to her place. “She’s not home. Or she’s not answering her phone. But I’ll talk to her later. Book discussion group is here tonight.”
“Here?” Since Levi had just taken a bite of corned beef sandwich, he talked with his mouth full. “You can’t—”
“There’s nothing for me to do,” I assured him. “We’ll sit here on the front porch and talk about Gone with the Wind. What could possibly go wrong?”
• • •
God bless the county health department!
When the inspector left, he handed me an official certificate that said Bea & Bees was as perfect as an inn could be.
No health violations.
No code problems.
And certainly no bedbugs.
By the time the members of the island Chamber of Commerce arrived the next day, I planned to have copies of that certificate framed and hanging in very conspicuous places of honor. Between that and offering tours, I was confident that I could turn around the unwarranted bad publicity.
We were on the front porch and I’d just finished telling Kate and Luella about my plans when we heard a door smack closed in the distance and saw Chandra heading across her yard, then mine, to join us for the latest meeting of the League of Literary Ladies.
“I wondered if she’d come,” Luella said below her breath. “She’s been acting—”
“Weird.” Kate made a face. “I mean, weirder than usual. Which, when you think about it, is pretty weird.”
“Shh!” As if we were talking about nothing at all, I smiled when Chandra got to the steps and waved her up to the porch to sit down. “We were just about to start,” I told her.
“I brought cookies.” She set a plate on the table and stepped back, and Kate, Luella, and I eyed what looked like chocolate chip cookies—green chocolate chip cookies.
“There’s matcha in the recipe,” Chandra sniffed when she saw the looks of wariness on our faces. Or maybe the fact that we were all sitting on our hands, staring instead of reaching for cookies, sent the message loud and clear. “Matcha is dried green tea leaves that have been ground up, so it’s full of antioxidants and fiber and chlorophyll. Go ahead, try one.” Still no one moved, and Chandra shot a look all around. “Unless you all think I’m trying to kill you with poison. You know, the way you all think I killed Vivien.”
“Nobody said that!” I blurted out.
“We never would,” Luella insisted.
“Where did you hear something as dumb as that?” Kate demanded.
Chandra dropped into the nearest chair. “I suppose you all think I’m the one who knocked Bea over the head, too.”
“No one ever even dreamed that.” Now that Chandra had made me feel nice and guilty, I reached for one of the cookies and took a bite. It tasted like grass. I smiled and chewed and smiled some more, and thankfully, Levi had made a pitcher of iced tea for the Ladies, so I washed it all down with a big gulp. “I know you’d never do a thing like that, Chandra.”
She crossed her arms over her purple top studded with green and gold sequins. “Well, that’s good, because I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Well, good!” Anxious to get off an uncomfortable subject and onto one that was bound to take Chandra’s mind off the murder, I grabbed my copy of Gone with the Wind from the table in front of the couch and plunked the book down on my knees. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, we can talk about what we’re supposed to be talking about.”
“The book.” Of all of us (even me, and I am a writer), Luella was the one who loved reading the most. Kate, I was sure, put up with our group because she didn’t want to miss out on any gossip. Chandra liked to daydream about plots and heroes and immerse herself in story and setting. I admit it, it was the words of any book that got to me, some of them delicious and evocative, others like the ping of BB shot against the page.
But Luella . . . one look at the way she clutched her copy of the book in both hands, and anyone who saw her knew how much reading meant to her. “It’s a hokey story,” she said, then, for Chandra’s sake, added quickly, “but that doesn’t make it any less riveting. It’s a classic, isn’t it? We all know what happens, so there are no surprises. And yet, I don’t know about all of you, but I couldn’t help but keep turning the pages.”
“I wonder what it was like to read it back when it was first published.” I tipped my head back (well, a little, anyway, since I still wasn’t 100 percent sure of what would happen when I moved too quickly) and thought about this. “Before the book and the movie were cultural icons. I wonder what it was like coming to the book without any preconceived notions.”
“It must have really been something.” I noticed that Kate took a look at Chandra when she said this. She paused, too, giving Chandra the perfect opening for throwing in a fiddle-dee-dee or two.
When she didn’t—when Chandra didn’t say a word—Kate cleared her throat. “We’re all going to the gala on Saturday night, aren’t we?”
Both Luella and I assured her we were, and when Chandra still didn’t speak, we all turned her way.
“You’re more excited than anyone on the island about the gala.” I knew I didn’t have to remind her. “Don’t tell me you’re not going to go.”
“I haven’t decided.” Chandra bit her lip. “If I go and anyone says anything about how I’m a murderer . . .”
“That’s not going to happen,” I assured her. “Because nobody thinks it’s true. Besides”—I could be devious in the name of a good cause—“that’s not the way Scarlett would have handled things.”
Chandra perked right up. “You mean—”
“Think of the scene when those women find her with Ashley and assume the worst.” I tapped the book with one finger. “Scarlett didn’t stay home and hide her head. She went to Ashley’s birthday party and she never backed down.”
Chandra’s chin quivered. “I can do that.”
“And we’ll be there with you, every minute,” I promised her. “Now, Chandra”—I leaned forward in my chair—“what are you wearing?” This, too, of course, was a cleverly devised question. I knew nothing would get Chandra’s mind off murder like the thought of playing the role of the Southern belle. “Hoop skirt? Big picture hat?”
A smile tickled Chandra’s lips. “You think I’m going as Scarlett.”
“I think every woman on the island’s going as Scarlett,” Kate said. “I know I am. I had a seamstress on the mainland come up with a perfect little picnic dress.”
“And I was thinking of something more refined,” Luella put in. “Wasn’t going to bother making something or having something made. That kind of fuss is for you young girls. But I’ve put together a long black skirt and a top that would be perfectly appropriate for the widow of a Southern warrior. What about you, Bea?”
What about me?
I thought it best to downplay the fact that I’d contacted one of the costuming wizards who’d worked on the wardrobe for the movie made from one of my books and had him come up with a confection sure to turn the heads of every Ashley and Rhett in the room. Of course, that was before things between Levi and me were back on an even keel and his was the only head I was worried about.
“I’ve got something that will work,” I assured them. “It should be an interesting evening. If only . . .”
“You’re hoping that the case gets solved before then,” Chandra said, and let out a long breath. “You and me both.”
“Actually, I was going to say that I wish we weren’t going to Tara for the party,” I admitted. “But I guess that’s the whole point. A Gone with the Wind gala wouldn’t be right without Tara. It’s just that those Twins . . .” I swallowed the rest of what I was going to say. The Ladies knew that Tara’s gain had been my loss, business-wise. There was no use pointing it out and looking like a sore loser.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were the ones who started that rumor.” Chandra grabbed a cookie and bit it in two. “You know, about the bedbugs. Maybe they’re trying to sabotage your business.”
I reminded myself about the health department certificate and took heart. “That lie will all be cleared up by tomorrow,” I told them—and reminded myself. “And why would the Twins want to do something like that, anyway? They don’t need to hurt my business. Not when theirs is going gangbusters.”
“Maybe it’s someone who doesn’t like you poking around in Vivien’s murder,” Kate suggested, and I had to admit, though I hadn’t thought of it before, the theory did have merit. “If someone wants to discredit you—”
“Making you look bad would be a good place to start,” Luella added.
“Maybe that means I’m actually getting too close to finding out the secret.” Yeah, brave words, but I knew they didn’t mean squat. “It sure doesn’t feel like it.”
“How about the business of Vivien’s house being all messed up?” Kate asked, then, for Chandra’s benefit, added, “Hank and Bea were there and it was turned upside down.”
“Really?” As if this didn’t jibe with reality as she knew it, Chandra puckered her brow. “It wasn’t like that when I was—” She caught herself and shoved the other half of her cookie in her mouth.
Luella and Kate exchanged looks but I didn’t dare join in. I was afraid my expression might give something away. Something about that scrap of gauzy white fabric I’d found at Vivien’s. “You and Vivien weren’t exactly friends,” I said, playing the innocent. “Everybody knows that. When were you at her house?”
“Me?” Chandra asked this with her mouth full, pointing to herself. She swallowed and washed down the cookie with some iced tea. “Years ago.” She waved away my question. “We were collecting canned goods for the local food bank. You remember that, Kate. We went from house to house, asking for donations.”
“And you asked Vivien for a donation?” Considering their history, it seemed out of character, but if there was one thing I knew about Chandra, it was that in the name of a good cause, she just might knock on Vivien’s door.
Chandra nodded, and her dangling earrings (orange and purple balls) glimmered in the evening light. Her lips thinned. “The way I remember it, she tossed three cans of tuna into the box I was carrying. Three cans of tuna! She could have afforded a whole lot more than that.”
“Maybe not,” I told them. “Hank says her finances weren’t all that great.”
“Which probably means someone didn’t kill her for her money,” Kate said.
“It could have been anyone,” Chandra added. “No one liked Vivien.”
“Especially you.” When Chandra flinched, I held up a hand. “Come on, it’s no secret. And I’m just saying. Which actually brings up a point, Chandra.” I thought about the white scrap of fabric I’d found at Vivien’s. “Are you sure the last time you were at Vivien’s was when you collected that canned food a couple years ago?”
Chandra lifted her chin. “I told you. I was there once. Why would I want to go to Vivien’s?”
Why, indeed.
“So . . .” Since that was a dead end, I edged the conversation the other way. “That walk you went on Friday. Was one of the places you walked Estelle’s backyard?”
Chandra’s jaw dropped and she glanced around at the circle of friends on my porch. “Do you really believe that?”
“I really believe someone saw you, and that means it’s something we need to talk about,” I told her.
“Good. Fine. Believe somebody else, not me. That’s just fine. That’s how friends treat each other.” Her face red and her eyes moist, Chandra popped out of her chair. “If that’s how you’re all going to be, I’m leaving. Let me know when you decide that I’m the murderer. It will be nice to know I have that kind of support from my so-called friends.”
Before any of us could say anything or stop her, she raced down the steps and across the lawn.
I hated to say it, so I kept my mouth shut, but it was pretty obvious that Chandra was gone with the wind.
13
If I weren’t so exhausted from not sleeping on Sunday night, I would have spent that Monday night pacing the floor and worrying about Chandra.
She was up to something.
She was involved in something.
And whatever it was, she wasn’t talking.
That in itself was plenty suspicious. Chandra talks about everything. All the time.
The way it was, though, I slept like a log. Well, except for the times Levi came in and woke me up to make sure all was well. According to the doctor, this was the last night he’d need to do that, and to tell the truth, I was glad. The longer Levi stayed at Bea & Bees taking care of me, the guiltier I felt for keeping him from his own business. Not to mention the fact that the longer he stayed with me, the better I felt, and the better I felt, the more I was tempted to ignore that ban on physical exertion.
I reminded myself that we might get there again, Levi and I. But even an author with an overactive imagination and an overpowering attraction to a certain bar owner/PI knew that after all we’d been through, we needed to find our way there slowly.
I kept that in mind on Tuesday morning when he zipped through the kitchen dressed in worn jeans and a black T-shirt with a green and white cotton plaid shirt open over it. The island Chamber of Commerce was set to descend on the inn in a few hours and Levi had been up long before me taking care of the details.
“I’ve got your usual cleaning people coming in an hour to do a quick once-over on everything,” he told me, checking that item off the list he was carrying. “And when I was outside this morning, I noticed that one of the slate tiles on your roof is loose. I don’t think it’s any big deal, and it doesn’t have to be done today, but I called Chuck over at the hardware store anyway and he’ll come by when he has a chance to take a look. I dragged that big extension ladder out and put it in back of the garage so if he shows up, he can use it. Oh, and Meg says she’ll be here at three with the food.”
“And you really should sit down.” I caught his sleeve so he couldn’t escape. “I should be taking care of all that.”
“You should be taking it easy.”
There was no use arguing, and as it turned out, I didn’t have a chance, anyway. The front doorbell rang, and just to prove how much better I was feeling, I popped out of my chair and went to answer it. It was a delivery. All the way from Hollywood.
Levi leaned over my shoulder and checked out the box. “What’s that?”
“A surprise.” When I tried to get around him so I could carry the box into my suite, he plucked it out of my hands and took it there himself. “I’m not an invalid!” I called out after him.
“Yes, you are. For one more day.” He returned with the stack of health department certifica
tes that I’d copied on the printer in my little office and, together, we put them in the frames he’d picked up for me in the grocery/variety store that was an island mainstay.
Cheap, quick, and easy—and when we were done, he put one certificate in each guest room and I put one on the fireplace mantel in the parlor and the last one in the dining room where the food would be set out that evening. Not exactly subtle but that wasn’t the point.
“So now that you’re feeling better”—the final framed certificate leaned against the back of the mahogany sideboard in the dining room, and Levi stepped away, looked it over, then straightened it a bit—“you’ll get back to investigating?”
“Are you going to tell me it’s too dangerous?”
“You did get bashed over the head.”
“Only because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Obviously, whoever ransacked Vivien’s house didn’t find what they were looking for and figured they might have better luck at her office. A Sunday morning, they probably figured they were home free. But there I was.”
“And you never saw a thing?”
I thought back to my visit to the real estate office. “I was looking through files.” With everything that had happened since the time I walked into the real estate office, I couldn’t remember if I told Levi this piece of the story. “Estelle’s files were there, and that makes sense. Estelle probably kept them at home and Vivien was cleaning everything out of the house. The files were all piled up on Vivien’s desk.”
“Mine, too?”
It wasn’t my imagination; he actually looked worried I might have taken a peek.
“Estelle handled the sale on the bar,” he said, explaining away his interest. “I just wondered—”
“Your file was there. So was mine.”
“Makes sense. Like you said, Vivien was taking care of wrapping things up as far as Estelle’s business was concerned.” I can’t imagine there was anything all that interesting in the sky outside the dining room window, but that’s what Levi was concentrating on. Was that a little case of the nerves I saw reflected in his rigid shoulders and his too-steady chin? I had no doubt of it and I had to give him credit—he did his best to make it sound like there was nothing but natural curiosity (and not worry) that I might have seen more in his file than I should have when he asked, “The pictures of my place, were they there?”
