Murder by Page One

by Olivia Matthews

  “That’s hard to believe.” Although I hadn’t meant to say that out loud, I was sincere. Spence looked quite fit in his onyx shirt and steel-gray slacks. He was about the same height as my brother. It was hard to picture him with excess weight. “Do your siblings cook too?”

  “I’m an only child. What about you?”

  “I have an older brother, DeAndre. He’s married to one of my favorite people, Kaylee. Their four-year-old son, Clayton, is one of the great loves of my life.”

  “You’re very close to your family. Moving away from them must’ve been hard.” Spence filled a cup halfway with cold water, then added a tablespoon of cornstarch to it.

  An image of my parents came to mind. They were in their early sixties, but their smooth brown features and still-dark hair helped them look at least fifteen years younger. Regular exercise kept them fit. I shook off my sudden homesickness.

  “It was.” I didn’t recall the cornstarch ingredient for either the chicken or the green bean dish. “What’s that for?”

  “I’m going to add this to the cooking juices from the chicken to make a sauce.”

  My stomach growled its approval. My face heated with embarrassment. “I guess that soup I had for lunch wasn’t quite enough.”

  “It won’t be much longer.” He appeared to check the time on the silver wall clock behind me. “Luckily, there are only six of us for dinner. It’s easier—and faster—to cook for smaller groups.”

  “And you thought the dinner party would be impossible to pull off in such a short time. I wish I could’ve helped, though.”

  “I appreciate your company—and your restraint.”

  “You’re welcome for the company. Don’t get used to the restraint.” Although, recalling his obstinacy when I’d attempted to pay for the supplies for the dinner I’d volunteered him for, restraint seemed to be the better part of valor. That experience had taught me to pick and choose my battles with the bossy amateur chef.

  Spence leaned back against his kitchen counter and folded his arms. “Marvey, what makes you think we can solve a murder? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to help with this investigation, but I don’t know how.”

  “I’m not trying to solve a murder.” I met his solemn midnight eyes. “I want to gather enough information to clear Jo as a suspect. Candidly, I don’t know if I can do that, either. But I know I need to try.”

  “And you’re certain she’s innocent?”

  “Aren’t you?” The question shocked me, especially coming from him. My faith in Jo was rock solid. I needed Spence to feel the same; otherwise, we couldn’t work together on this.

  “Of course.” His response was fast and firm, much to my relief. “But Whatley and Cole have put her at the top of their suspects list. Are we missing something we need to identify in order to clear her name?”

  “No, but I’m pretty sure the deputies are. How much experience do they have? Despite recent evidence to the contrary, everyone keeps saying murders don’t happen in Peach Coast.”

  “Well, there aren’t a lot, but—”

  I ignored his interruption as my frustration broke free. “As you know, my brief internet search uncovered one murder. It happened two years ago, but it’s still unsolved.”

  “That’s true, but—”

  “Is Deputy Cole even old enough to shave?”

  Spence raised his eyebrows. “Feel better?”

  “Not really.” And I was suddenly craving chocolate.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this. I just want to make sure we’re not missing anything.” He pushed away from the counter. “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Don’t ask a question you may not want the answer to?’”

  “I’m not afraid of this question, because I already know the answer: Jo’s innocent.” I frowned. “If you believe the same, then what are you afraid of?”

  Spence paced across the kitchen with restless movements. “I grew up in this town with most of these people. I don’t want to think of any of them as a killer.”

  That gave me chills. I hadn’t grown up in Peach Coast, but I’d been a resident for more than four months. What if the killer was someone I knew? A regular at On A Roll. A member of the Peach Coast Library Book Club. A library patron.

  I understood why he found the idea so unsettling. “Is that the reason some people are focused on Jo?” His silence was answer enough. “Wouldn’t it be more concerning if your law enforcement was ruled by those same feelings? Do you want a killer to go unpunished because you grew up with him? Would you rather an innocent person was convicted instead?”

  Spence dragged a hand over his close-cropped hair. His agitation crackled in the air between us. “You’re right.”

  “Let’s help clear Jo. Then we’ll work on a way to help the community recover from this murder. I know a couple of books that might help.”

  Chapter 10

  The Southern definition of “casual dress” appeared to be “something one would wear to a gala at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

  The other librarians must’ve driven together, because they arrived at the same time. Their nervous excitement preceded them into Spence’s home. Assessing their formalwear, I felt like the poor relation. The memory of our conversation about the dress code for Spence’s dinner party played on a loop in my mind. Since when were gowns and tuxedos considered “business casual?”

  And why didn’t anyone tell me?

  Corrinne was almost Spence’s height in those silver five-inch stilettos. “Your home is even lovelier than I remembered.”

  Spence smiled. “Thanks, Corrinne.”

  Viv, in her amethyst gown, looked like an ad for expensive perfume. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”

  Spence nodded. “Thank you for coming.”

  Adrian stepped forward. Where had he gotten that tailored three-piece suit? “I’ve heard about your dinner parties, but I never imagined I’d be invited to one. Thanks, Mr. Holt.”

  “Call me Spence. This dinner party is overdue. We haven’t had one for the librarians since you joined the staff. Now Marvey’s here too, so it’s time.”

  Adrian was blushing as he walked away.

  Floyd looked like a character from The Great Gatsby in his black tuxedo and bow tie. He inclined his head toward Spence. “I brought my appetite.”

  Spence chuckled. “You won’t be disappointed.”

  Floyd grunted. “I wasn’t last time.” High praise indeed.

  I couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Excuse me, but I thought we’d agreed on business casual.” I gestured toward the sapphire blouse, black pants, and matching pumps I’d worn to work. “Floyd, did you rent that tux?”

  Corrinne rushed to reassure me. “Marvey, you always look so wonderful.”

  Viv nodded her agreement. “You’d look perfect in everything, even in sweats.”

  Spence turned to me, his expression solemn. “Marvey, you look absolutely lovely.”

  That was spreading it a bit thick, but I allowed their Southern charm to mollify me.

  Our host led us into the dining room. The spontaneous gasps and interjections of admiration must’ve been gratifying. I know I was grateful, and I literally hadn’t lifted a finger to help.

  Conversation flowed easily from the Southern pecan and apple salad course straight through to the entrée. From his seat at the head of the table, Spence asked a ton of questions about the library and each of us, and seemed genuinely interested in our responses. Since Adrian and I were the newest librarians, he asked about our previous career experiences.

  “This is my first job out of college.” Adrian was on Spence’s left. He nodded as he finished his second helping of green beans.

  Seated across the table from the library assistant, I’d noticed his initial reaction to the side dish. Vegetables didn’t appear to be his favorite food group. Spence�
�s Georgia green beans seemed to have changed his perspective. I’d had a similar reaction to the baked chicken and peaches. It was both sweet and savory, like a combination of a main course and a decadent dessert.

  Spence sipped his white Zinfandel. “Why did you choose to become a librarian?”

  Adrian nodded again. “When I was fixin’ to pick a major, my advisor asked me what I wanted to do. Told him I wanted to be a student for the rest of my life. I love learning. He said I should try library science. Working in a place filled to the rafters with books and magazines, well, I reckoned that would suit me just fine.”

  From her chair at the foot of the table, Corrinne set down her fork. “That’s one of the greatest joys of being a librarian: being around books and introducing others to the joys of reading.”

  Everyone’s plate was clean, and there weren’t any leftovers. It was a silent round of applause for a meal well served. Floyd had even loosened his belt.

  After declining our help, Spence made quick work of clearing the table, then returned with a tray of peach cobbler and vanilla ice cream. He offered each of us a bowl before returning to his seat.

  Adrian gave a greedy grin. “I’m already feeling fat as a tick.”

  In context, that was a Southernism even I could understand.

  I slipped Spence a look meant to warn him I was going to start our investigative questioning. “Thank you again for hosting this dinner for us, Spence. It’s a nice way to wind down an unsettling day. People around town have been talking about Fiona Lyle-Hayes’s murder. We even discussed it at the library.”

  Floyd waved his dessert spoon. “Didn’t the deputies speak to you at the crime scene? Why’d they need to speak with you again today at the library?”

  Adrian leaned toward me. “Is it because you’re friends with Ms. Jo? Are you like a key witness or somethin’?”

  Viv shook her head vehemently. A lock of hair slipped from the bun she’d gathered on the crown of her head. “Jo Gomez is not a murderer. Besides, why would she kill one of the featured authors at a scheduled book signing right before her event?”

  Floyd made a disparaging noise. “And then to leave the body in the store? It’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard.”

  “I agree that doesn’t make sense,” Corrinne said. “Ever since she opened that bookstore, Jo’s whole world has revolved around it. She’d never do anything to jeopardize her business.”

  “Murder would jeopardize it, all right.” Floyd inclined his head in agreement without lifting his eyes from his dessert. “Having dead bodies popping up all over your store will chase your customers away.”

  Spence and I exchanged a look of relief. Unprompted, the librarians had agreed with us about Jo’s innocence.

  “Who would you consider to be a more viable suspect for the murder?” I asked the question as casually as I could, but Floyd wasn’t fooled.

  The older man gave me a suspicious look before directing his question to Spence. “What’s this dinner really about?”

  I hurried to reclaim Floyd’s attention before Spence could respond. “What do you mean?”

  “Come now, Marvey.” Corrinne’s gracious smile softened her chastening tone. “We noticed you arrived here separately.”

  I tried to shrug that away. “I wanted to check on Phoenix first, since we’d probably be out late.”

  Viv cocked her head. “You checked on your cat, but you still made it here before us.”

  “And we were on time, which means you were early,” Adrian added.

  Caught. But my associates seemed more amused than accusing. Well, I couldn’t see Floyd’s reaction. He was busy trying to scrape the painted design from the porcelain dessert bowl.

  I held up both hands. “I didn’t lie about checking on Phoenix.”

  Floyd made a rude noise. “Never said you did.”

  I ignored him. “And Spence really had planned to host a dinner for us.”

  Spence gestured around the table. “As you know, I’m a huge fan of the library. And I have to say I’m impressed with the deductive reasoning skills you used to assess this dinner.”

  Corrinne inclined her head at the compliment. “Librarians tend to be underrated. We have inquisitive minds and suspected something else might be going on in addition to the dinner.”

  I cleared my throat. “I apologize for misleading you. That was my idea, not Spence’s.”

  Spence touched the back of my hand. “I was in on this from the beginning. I’ll take my share of the blame.”

  “We can argue that later.” I squeezed his forearm before turning back to the librarians. “I’m glad you also believe Jo’s innocent. Spence and I are determined to clear her. We’re trying to get compelling information to bring to the deputies to show there are much stronger suspects than Jo for Fiona’s murder.”

  Floyd set aside his dessert bowl. “We can help you with that. Fiona didn’t have a shortage of frenemies. Got a pen?”

  Chapter 11

  “When Buddy Hayes divorced Ms. Betty to marry Ms. Fiona, Ms. Betty pitched a hissy fit with a tail on it.” Adrian’s nod added emphasis to his statement.

  “Ms. Betty was furious.” Viv’s dark eyes twinkled as she translated Adrian’s Southern phrases for me. “Popular opinion is she was the one spreading gossip about Fiona. Those rumors were pretty vicious. And whenever they crossed paths, Betty would get really stiff and totally ignore Fiona. I’m interested in body language. It expresses a lot that people don’t always say with words.”

  Interesting. “How would Fiona react?”

  “She wouldn’t.” Viv shrugged a shoulder. “She was just normal.”

  “Granted, Betty was over the top, but I can understand her anger.” Corrinne slid aside her empty dessert dish and folded her hands on the table in front of her. “She and Buddy had been married for more than twenty years. Their divorce was such a cliché: husband leaves wife for a much younger woman.”

  “Betty still loved Buddy despite his betrayal.” Viv sighed. Her expression was almost dreamy. “Whenever he was near her, she only had eyes for him. And she was always touching him.”

  Spence sat back on his chair. “Buddy’s death hit Betty really hard.”

  Hearing this made me feel sorry for Betty and blame Fiona. “Did Betty and Fiona have any public disagreements?”

  Corrinne’s brow creased. “Not that I can recall.” My other companions chimed in to agree with Corrinne.

  “But things can’t be going that well for Betty,” Viv added. “She’s taken a second job, working at the general store.”

  I glanced around the table. “If Betty had that much animosity toward Fiona, why would she attend Fiona’s signing?”

  Adrian seemed to vibrate with excitement. “If I were a bettin’ man, I’d say she was after causin’ a scene and ruinin’ the event for Ms. Fiona. D’y’all know what Ms. Fiona’s book is about?”

  Viv’s brow knitted in concentration. “The protagonist’s husband dies of natural causes, but she suspects he was murdered.”

  “By his ex-wife.” Adrian’s gaze circled the rectangular table. “Now, I haven’t read the book myself yet, but I found a spoiler site on the internet.”

  “Did you just ruin the ending for us?” Floyd glared across the table at Adrian.

  Adrian rolled his eyes. “Don’t go pitching a hissy fit, now. I didn’t give away the endin’. I don’t think.”

  A horrified silence hung over the table as the five of us considered Adrian may indeed have ruined Fiona’s book for us.

  I pulled myself together first. “That motive sounds plausible.” I made a note of his theory. “But could you see Betty actually killing someone?”

  The room felt heavy with their collective hesitation. Floyd’s booming voice broke the silence. “I could see Betty offing Fiona, if she was angry enough.”

/>   “And Betty’s heartache is still fresh.” Viv sighed. “Her divorce from Buddy had been finalized only two years ago. Buddy and Fiona had been married for a year before Buddy died almost a year ago.”

  Adrian blew out a breath. “Now, that would explain why Ms. Betty’s always madder than a puffed toad.”

  “Betty’s definitely on our list of potential suspects to investigate. She has a plausible reason for murder: revenge.” I wrote her name in the notebook, along with her motive. “Who else?” I asked the room in general.

  “No one in the writing group liked Fiona.” Floyd seemed to relish that point. “That gives you twelve suspects right there.”

  “Let’s put that into context.” Corrinne raised both of her hands, palms out. “I had the impression it wasn’t that the other writers didn’t like her. They didn’t know her. Fiona was a difficult person to get close to.”

  “I agree with Corrinne.” Viv leaned into the table. “Fiona used to come in for help with research for her novel. Her manner was cool, as though she was deliberately keeping me at a distance.”

  Viv’s observation corroborated my initial impression of Fiona as secretive. “She kept you at a distance. She kept her writing group members at a distance. Her social media pages are sparse and impersonal. It’s as though she was trying to hide something.”

  Spence balanced his elbows on the table. “Like what?”

  A quick look at our dinner companions revealed a variety of baffled expressions. I set aside the idea of Fiona keeping secrets to pursue at a later date. “What brought Fiona to Peach Coast?”

  “Fiona was from South Carolina. Beaufort,” Floyd said. “Her uncle had property here. When he died, he left that property to Fiona, and she hired Buddy to sell it.”