Georgina Franklin was the last person who saw Hannah Rhodes alive and is the prime suspect in her murder case. Could it be that Miss. Franklin has finally lost what’s left of her addled mind? Could she be an arsonist and murderer on the loose? Surely, the local police department has to do something about this. The longer she is left free to roam the streets, the more danger there will be for the residents of Gossip.
Our sweet town deserves better than a murderess like Miss. Franklin, if that is, in fact, her real name. I would encourage residents to put their safety first and avoid Franklin’s inn and whatever food it may offer.
“It’s a hit piece,” I said, instantly fuming. I ached to ball up the newspaper and throw it across the room. “It’s a hit piece.”
“This is terrible. The inn is everything to Georgie. She’s going to freak when she sees this.”
“Don’t show it to her,” I said.
“I can’t hide it. She’s probably got her own copy upstairs.” Lauren tugged on the strings of her apron. “Everyone in Gossip has a subscription.”
“Fine. If she finds out, she finds out, but don’t go out of your way to tell her.” I scanned the article for its byline.
Written by the Ed, Jacinta Redgrave.
“Are you OK, Charlie?” Lauren asked.
She’d never seen me angry. I took a breath, putting up a smile that probably looked maniacal. “Where are the Gossip Rag’s offices?”
“They’re just off Main Street on Wandering Way. But Charlie, what are you going to—?”
I was up and out of my seat, the paper in my hand, marching toward the exit. Cocoa Puff fled before me. I didn’t bother stripping off my apron. This Jacinta woman would retract the article before the end of the day, or she’d regret it.
“Charlotte?” Smulder appeared in the library doorway.
I ignored him and strode past, snatching up my Gamma’s car keys from the hook next to the front door. I stormed down to the Mini. A few months ago, when I’d been under investigation for a crime I hadn’t committed, my pictures had circulated online and I’d had no choice but to lay low and say nothing about it. Not this time. This wasn’t just my cover at stake, but my grandmother’s. And, believe it or not, she had far worse enemies than I did.
She’d been putting away war criminals, arms dealers, and enemy spies for a lifetime.
I opened the Mini’s driver’s side door and got in. The passenger door opened too, and Smulder’s handsome face appeared creased with lines. “Charlie, what’s going on?”
“See the paper this morning?”
“No?”
I thrust it at him. “Get in or stay here. I’m leaving. Now.”
Smulder got into the Mini. I was too angry to care.
I reversed out of Gamma’s parking space, the tires spitting gravel and raced off. My grandmother wasn’t the only one who’d taken accredited professional driving courses, and a few that the NSIB had provided for advanced driving tactics, as well.
Smulder bumped against the door, holding up the paper and scanning it as we drove. “Turn the car around,” he said.
“No.”
“You can’t do this, Charlie. You’ll compromise your cover.”
“No.”
“I’ll have no choice but to—”
My brakes screeched as I parked outside the paper’s offices on Wandering Way, drawing shocked gasps and yelps from passersby on the sidewalk. I glared at him. “I don’t care what you do, Smulder.”
“Marble,” he growled.
“Whatever. I don’t care. This is my grandmother’s livelihood at stake. She’s the only person I trust, the only person who’s always looked out for me, and you can be sure that I’m not going to let anything happen to her. Not on my account.”
He opened his mouth again but no words came out.
I didn’t hang around so he could catch a second wind. I snatched the paper from his grasp and exited the Mini.
People scattered around me. I barged through the glass front door of the office—a double story brick building. The receptionist looked up from her desk. “Um, hello? How may I help—?”
“Jacinta Redgrave,” I snapped. “Where is she?”
“She—I—she’s in a meeting, ma’am. I’m afraid—”
“Point me in the right direction, now.”
The receptionist lifted a quivering finger and directed it toward a closed office door with a misted glass window. I had to look a sight with my batter-stained apron. Smulder crashed through the doors and followed me.
“Charlotte.”
I charged into Jacinta’s office.
She sat behind her desk, her glossy black hair falling past her shoulders. She had to be a few years older than me, closer to forty than thirty. She twirled the end of a phone cord around her crimson fingernail, the receiver plastered to one ear. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Gilmore. I understand you want to—” She looked up and raised perfectly penciled eyebrows at me. “I’m sorry, but it looks as if I’m going to have to call you back. My useless receptionist has let in another straggler off the street.” She set down the phone and interlaced her fingers, resting them on her desk blotter.
I slapped the paper down on the table. “You’re going to retract this.”
“Pardon me?”
“The hit piece you wrote about Georgina Franklin. You’re going to retract it.” I glared at her.
She didn’t so much as flinch. Apparently, Jacinta was made of strong stuff.
Smulder stepped up beside me. “Our apologies for the interruption, Mrs. Redgrave.” She had a silver plaque on her desk, bearing her name.
“It’s Miss.” She winked at him.
I rode another wave of fury.
“No apologies here,” I said, poking the newspaper with a finger. “You’re going to retract this article or you’re going to pay for it.”
“Pay for it?” Jacinta sat back in her chair, cocking her head to one side. “Intriguing. What did you have in mind?”
“I—”
“She doesn’t mean anything.” Smulder took me by the arm and pulled me a few steps backward. “Sorry about this, ma’am. Things are a bit tense at the moment. Everyone’s worried about the, uh, the murder. And the fire.”
“Of course. We all are,” Jacinta said, her dark eyes glimmering with mal-intent. “It’s the reason I penned that article in the first place.”
“Is that what we’re calling it nowadays?” I asked. “Looked like trash to me.”
“How rude.” Jacinta grinned. “How very rude. What’s your name?”
“We were just leaving,” Smulder said.
I could’ve smacked him around the head, but he dragged me out of the horrible woman’s office before I had the chance. I could have incapacitated him, or broken into another scuffle, but it wouldn’t have helped. It might have made things worse.
“Stop it,” I hissed, tugging free of Smulder’s grip. “I’m fine.”
He placed a hand in the small of my back and guided me out into the street.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“I’m helping you maintain your cover,” he said.
“I shouldn’t have let you come with me.”
“You wouldn’t have had a choice. You know I’m here to protect you.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I didn’t want to admit that was true. It was easier to think about him as an interloper.
“We’re going to have a serious talk about this back at the inn,” he said, putting out a hand. “The keys?”
“Dream on.” I unlocked the car and got into the driver’s seat.
I DIDN’T GIVE Smulder a chance to lecture me about my outburst. It had been foolish, yes, but I was used to attaining my goals through sheer force of will. Or through subterfuge. Maybe there was a way I could get through to her using another technique? Research?
“Charlotte,” Smulder said. “Let’s talk in the library.”
“I have work to do.” It was a lie, and I
didn’t regret it. All Smulder would have to say was that I’d made a huge mistake and he would have to report me if I did it again. Or he would report me right away. I didn’t need the PSA.
“Charlotte.”
I ignored him and hurried toward the stairs. The kitchen was empty, the silverware already packed away, and I had about an hour before I had to help Lauren prep for lunch. An hour that I could use to do research.
Getting through to Jacinta probably wouldn’t help as much as solving the murder would. They would have to retract that article if I proved them wrong.
I dashed upstairs, opened my bedroom door, and found Cocoa Puff lying in the sun at the end of my bed. “Lazy,” I said.
He purred at me in response. I shut the door, locked it, then brought my cellphone out of my pocket. I grabbed my notepad and flipped it open. I searched online for Abigail Rhodes, my first suspect, and her social media profiles popped up, instantly.
Boy, was she active on social media. She had picture after picture after picture, none of which were hidden from the public. Most of them were of Abigail, blonde and wearing tight-fitting clothes or bikinis, and always surrounded by young men.
I didn’t spot Sebastian Tombs in any of them—my second suspect. But there was something about the pictures that drew my focus. What was it?
Hmm. There!
The same guy. In every single picture, a guy with a blond bush of hair and a pair of glasses. Who was he? Why was he in every picture? He wasn’t tagged. But I made a note of it anyway.
Other than that, there was nothing. Abigail was perfectly happy. She was wealthy and popular and she had no reason to go ahead and murder her librarian sister. So why couldn’t I shake the feeling that she was involved somehow?
I flipped my notepad closed, grumbling under my breath. It wasn’t enough information.
That left only one thing to do. I’d have to go back to the scene of the crime and case it out for real evidence. If Abigail had been involved, she would have left something behind.
It was a tenuous lead at best, but it was the only one I had.
Now, I just had to get out of the inn and to the library without Smulder following me like a lost puppy dog.
14
“Out like a light,” Gamma said, shutting the door to Smulder’s room.
“You didn’t drug him, did you?”
“You know I’m more tactful than that, Charlotte.” Gamma looped her arm through mine and drew me down the hall and onto the staircase. “Chocolate chip cookies, warm milk, and an early afternoon of work in the greenhouse concocted the perfect storm. Your friend won’t be bothering us for at least another two hours.”
“Perfect.” I’d have to remember the ‘hard work, cookies, and milk’ tactic the next time I wanted to knock out an enemy. A tranquilizer dart was so much simpler, though.
Gamma gave my arm a squeeze. She lifted her chin, her gaze filled with shining excitement. “To the library.”
We’d planned everything perfectly, bided our time for a day, and Gamma had even filled her wicker basket with books she hadn’t finished reading yet. The Gossip Public Library was open for business again, and we’d have our chance to check out the crime scene.
Gamma and I piled into her Mini and took off, no tire screeching this time, her grinning broadly. “It’s good to take control,” she said. “If we stay focused, we’ll solve the crime before things get any worse.”
“You don’t seem upset about what happened with the paper.”
“Jacinta’s little piece?” Gamma asked. “Oh, she’s always had it in for me. But don’t you worry, I’ve got my plans for her.”
“Plans?”
“Let’s just say, the Valentine’s Day Dance is going to be interesting this year.”
I held back a groan. I’d totally forgotten about that—Gamma and Lauren had roped me into helping out at the dance and a festival approaching at the end of this week. We’d be serving Valentine’s Strawberry Cupcakes. Somebody save me. It wasn’t the helping out that bothered me. It was the red and pink heart confetti and the googly-eyed look everyone got around this time of the year.
And there was no way I could get out of this either.
Gamma pulled into a parking space in front of the library, and we headed inside. The atmosphere was the polar opposite to what it had been the last time we’d come to drop off Gamma’s books and find new ones. A long line stretched from the front counter, where two librarians, both elderly, one with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses on a string of beads, stood helping the borrowers or lenders or whatever they were called.
“Well,” Gamma said. “That’s not ideal.”
Not that we’d expected to have the whole place to ourselves, but this was… it seemed everyone had come to the library. Maybe that was because they wanted to check out the crime scene too. Everyone in Gossip loved to well… gossip. And get involved in other people’s lives.
“Let’s skip the line,” Gamma whispered, putting down her basket.
The one advantage of it being this busy was that no one noticed as we slipped by. The advantage of having trained to be a spy was that it was easier to hide in plain sight. Spies didn’t sneak, they were casual—they acted as if they belonged.
“Let’s head for the mystery section first.” Gamma took the lead.
We entered her favorite cramped section, filled with mystery books and with that flickering fluorescent above, then stopped. A rendezvous before we headed around the end of the bookcase and out into the open. What would we find?
Most likely, nothing. A forensic team had come in and taken what evidence their might’ve been. But it was worth a shot.
“Can you believe it?” A woman spoke nearby, from the other side of the shelves—not in the crime scene, but on the other side of our aisle. “She thinks she’s so amazing, but she’s not.” The voice had a nasal quality to it, a whine. Sounded like a young woman? Just out of her teens. “Like, I didn’t even get a chance to call her after it happened, so why is she making such a big deal out of it? Yeah. Yeah. I know.”
Gamma held up her thumb and pinkie to the side of her face and mouthed, “Phone.”
“Yeah, well, it’s whatever. If she doesn’t want me to stay at her place, that’s fine. There’s an inn in town. I can just go stay there.”
Apparently, we’d stumbled upon a new customer.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t be caught dead staying with my mother. Abigail’s such a… fine. OK, yeah. Well…” The woman’s voice trailed off as she drew further away.
“Abigail,” I whispered.
“Focus on the crime scene first.” Gamma pursed her lips. “Who talks on a cellphone in the library? There’s a rule against that, you know.”
“There’s also a rule about returning books late.”
My grandmother pursed her lips at me. “Don’t be cheeky.”
“Let’s check out the scene.” I spoke softly. “I’ll take right, you take left.” I didn’t have to tell Gamma to act casual. She knew the drill.
I strolled past the bookcases of mystery and thriller novels, reached the corner then turned into the aisle where we’d found Hannah. It had been cleaned up, all right. The floor was spotless—whoever had washed the carpeting was a pro—and the shelves were organized as usual. Gamma stopped at the other end, feigning interest in a novel, even though we’d entered the middle-grade fiction section.
Chatter and the occasional burst of laughter came from other areas of the library, but our coast was clear for now.
“You take low,” Gamma said.
I immediately bent to the floor, clicking my fingers. Gamma brought out her box of latex gloves from her handbag and offered it to me. I extracted a pair and snapped them into place then got down on all fours. I moved to around about where Hannah had fallen and checked the carpeting for scuffs or any form of unknown fiber.
Nothing.
My nose itched, but I didn’t allow myself to sneeze or scratch it. If someone heard and turned the corner,
found us here, Gamma on her tiptoes searching all the shelves and me on my knees, they’d… well, suspicion didn’t even cut it.
I scanned the undersides of the shelves, bringing out my cellphone and directing the light from its screen underneath. A glimmer caught my eye.
“Found something,” I whispered.
Gamma dropped onto her heels and crouched next to me. “What?”
I reached under the shelving and extracted a ring. A blood-stained ring. I rose, quickly, and Gamma brought a plastic baggie out of her purse. She opened it for me, and I popped the ring inside.
“It’s chunky,” I said, as I stripped off my gloves and disposed of them in another plastic bag from Gamma’s purse. “A man’s ring?”
She held up the evidence, examining it. “Looks like it. Or a thick woman’s ring. I’m not sure.”
“We should get it back to the inn and check it out.”
“I’ll keep it in my room. It’s less likely your friend, Brian, will be looking for anything there.”
I blinked. “You’re not suggesting he’s been snooping in my room, are you?”
“What would you do in his position?”
Now, there was a disconcerting thought.
“Don’t worry about it now, Charlotte,” Gamma said, sliding the ring into a side compartment in her handbag. “Let’s get back and talk to Lauren about this. She has an eye for jewelry—it’s her second passion. She’ll know whether it’s a man’s ring or not.”
15
“There’s blood on it,” Lauren said, skin whitening around the mouth.
“Yes, dear, there’s blood on the ring.” Gamma patted her employee on the arm. “But do you think it’s a man’s ring or a woman’s?”
“I—I—”
“Give her a minute,” I said, between chews of my strawberry cupcake. I wasn’t excited for the Valentine’s Day Festival tomorrow, but man, Lauren sure knew how to bake a tempting cupcake.
“We don’t have that many minutes.” Gamma pursed her lips.
We couldn’t be sure when Brian would make an appearance—Gamma had given him a task in the greenhouse, but he liked to pop up at the most inopportune times. “It’s OK, Lauren. Just pretend the red stuff is rust or whatever.”
Mission Inn-possible 02 - Strawberry Sin Page 6
