Book Fair and Foul (Ashton Corners Book Club) (18 page)

Lorelie took her turn next, and after a significant pause, possibly for a mental cleansing of palate, gave a slow and dramatic reading with beseeching glances at the audience when she reached the romantic parts, a sinister scrunching of eyebrows for the mystery and sweeping gestures throughout. When she’d finished, the floor was opened up to questions and that kept the authors busy for over twenty minutes. Finally, with a gesture to the clock hanging at the front of the room, Isabel thanked everyone for coming and suggested they visit the bookselling table to stock up for signatures. Most did as asked, crowding around the table where Stephanie and Andie sat selling books, moving over next to the signing table. By the time Isabel ushered the final attendee out the door, the authors had fallen silent. A.J. stood and stretched.

“I’m totally wiped out. It’s been a long day and I, for one, am looking forward to a quiet evening. But what a great response, Ms. Isabel. I do thank you.”

“Why, it’s my pleasure,” Isabel beamed.

Carter collected Caroline, who left with a muted “Thanks,” leaving Lorelie to beg a lift from Molly.

“I’m passing right by there,” Lizzie said. “I’d be happy to drop you off.”
And get a chance to ask more questions.

“Why, that’s nice of you, Lizzie.”

They said their good-byes and left. Lizzie didn’t waste any time once they were on the road.

“I was just wondering if you’d given any more thought to what you told me about Caroline and Ashley.” Lizzie said, as she turned left onto Bishop out of the parking lot.

“No. Should I?”

“Perhaps not but I did hear that you and Ashley had clashed about a missed award submission.”

“Whoever told you that?” Lorelie sputtered.

Lizzie didn’t answer the question but said instead, “So you got over the fact that Ashley neglected to send your book in for the Cozy Lovers awards this year?”

“Yes,” Lorelie said in a tight voice. “Ashley admitted she’d made a huge mistake and I graciously forgave her.”

“Why would she make such a mistake? I’ve been hearing how great she was at her job.”

Lizzie caught Lorelie’s shrug out of the corner of her eye. “She said she’d been preoccupied with something more important in her life. Although that was her job. What could be more important than making sure your top writers are entered in awards?” Lorelie’s voice had turned shrill.
So, not so forgotten. Maybe not even forgiven
.

“Is that why in your new book you had the publicist as the victim?”

Lorelie turned sideways to face Lizzie. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten into your head. Are you insinuating I murdered Ashley or something equally crazy? I’ll bet Caroline put you up to this. You’ve seen how she can get. Caroline Cummings is on a downward spiral. Her sales are plummeting, she’s losing her fan base.”

Lorelie said something under her breath that Lizzie didn’t hear, except for the word “loser.”

“Is she losing her husband?” Lizzie asked.

Lorelie gave her an icy stare. “How would I know?”

Lizzie thought it best to let Lorelie believe it was an innocent question. Lizzie shrugged instead. “I don’t see them together much. And Carter seems at loose ends much of the time.” Lizzie glanced over at Lorelie, who had shifted back and sat staring straight ahead. “Do you think Carter Farrow knew Ashley very well?”

Lorelie’s head gave a slight jerk. “Carter? Why, I don’t know. I hardly know the man. He doesn’t say much when we authors get together, although he’s always an angel and willing to run errands for us all.”

Lizzie wondered if that were the truth. Had her eyes been playing tricks on her when she thought she’d spotted the two of them together? Of course, Lorelie was a writer. Perhaps she was spinning out some of her own lines.

Lizzie pulled up in front of the Quilt Patch and Lorelie quickly opened the car door.

“Thank you for the ride, dear,” she said, her voice on the frosted side. She shut the door without waiting for Lizzie’s response.

And sometimes, they were to be feared.

WRITTEN IN STONE
—ELLERY ADAMS

S
unday morning dawned as one of those days that comes just when you think you’ve escaped summer, and it surprises you with a great gust of humidity and sunshine. Not that Lizzie would complain. She knew the rains would soon be coming. Not a lot, but enough to give all the fall plants a growth spurt.

She rolled over slowly in bed, careful not to displace the cats that had decided sometime overnight to abandon the crooks and nooks of her body in favor of stretching out, head to head, the length of the bed. They knew the concept of overheating.

Lizzie eyed the clock. Seven. She debated about going for a run but caved to the small voice telling her that taking a day off was actually a good thing. Besides, she wanted to get over to see her mama midmorning before the heat became oppressive. Even in the air-conditioned comfort of Magnolia Manor, Evelyn Turner tuned in to the outdoor heat and would often spend such an afternoon napping.

The phone rang as she stretched and wiggled her toes.

“Good morning, beautiful. I hope I’m not waking you,” Mark said before she had a chance to say anything.

“No way. I’ve been up for hours, done a long run, mowed the lawn and washed my car already.”

“Hah. No way. I’m sorry I didn’t make it over last night but it was a rowdy night at one of our more formidable drinking establishments.”

“Are you at the office right now?” Lizzie asked.

His voice lowered and took on a cozy, caressing tone. “Yes, but my thoughts are elsewhere.”

“Right along with mine.” Lizzie sighed. “You didn’t spend the entire night there, did you?”

“No. I got a few hours sleep at home and then walked Patchett before coming back in. I’ll finish up some paperwork and then thought you might be free after seeing your mama?”

“Umm. I’ll be back after lunch. But then we’ve got the author readings at the band gazebo in the town square, remember? A certain police chief asked us to set that up?”

“That does ring a bell, now that you mention it.”

“And then, we’re invited to Molly’s for dinner with the authors. I hope you can still come to that.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. How about you give me a call when you get home from the afternoon excitement and I’ll give you a ride to Molly’s. Service with a smile.”

“Hmm. Sounds too good to pass up.”

“Good. See you soon.”

Lizzie hung up, a smile on her face, and got up to start her day.

*   *   *

E
velyn Turner sat on a three-seat swing out on the back patio, a light breeze keeping her cool in the shade. Lizzie sat down beside her and started the swing moving back and forth. After about five minutes, Lizzie could feel Evelyn’s feet helping with the propulsion.

“It’s such a beautiful day, Mama. I’m so glad you’re taking advantage of the good weather even though it’s a bit hotter today. And I just love this swing. We can get a bit of a breeze on it. I wonder if I’d have enough room for one on my back patio. Probably, but only if I didn’t want anything else out on it.” Lizzie kept up the monologue until she realized she was really reaching for things to say. Nothing had elicited a response but Lizzie felt they’d shared a good visit.

They went back inside and Lizzie waited until Evelyn went into the dining room for her lunch. Lizzie knew how important routines were in Evelyn’s life. The visits were every bit as important to Lizzie, even knowing she wasn’t recognized most times. She glanced at her watch and realized she’d have just enough time to grab something to eat at home and then head over to the band gazebo for the author event.

*   *   *

W
hen she arrived at the town center, she noticed that the four authors were all seated in the gazebo and a respectable number of attendees were getting settled on the large lawn in the center square. Many had brought fold-up garden chairs and some were even seated on blankets. The number should make the authors happy.

Molly acted as host of the day, doing the welcome at the start and a short intro before each author read. Lizzie sat at the bookselling table set up close to the parking lot and enjoyed just lazing with the sun shining on her face, fanning herself with a book. At the end of the event, she roused herself and helped with the selling. As the authors made their way over to the table to sign books, Lizzie wondered if Lorelie would still be upset with her. A gracious smile from Lorelie assured Lizzie that, at least in public, all was forgiven.

*   *   *

M
ark arrived just as Lizzie pulled the iced tea from the fridge. She’d made a fresh pitcher that morning before heading out. Mark came up behind her at the counter as she poured them each a glass and wrapped his arms around her.

“And how was the grand event this afternoon?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.

“It was a big hit. I was amazed we got such a huge turnout. I think Molly’s going to be doing this again real soon. And it’s all thanks to you.”

“Hmm. Wish that keeping them here longer could have paid off more.”

“Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of that.” Unfortunately, Mark wasn’t very forthcoming with an explanation on the drive over to Molly’s.

When Lizzie and Mark arrived, A.J. Pruitt and Gigi Briggs were already seated in the sunroom, nursing cold mint juleps. Sally-Jo, Jacob and Stephanie, along with baby Wendy, came through the door next followed by Bob, and then Andie, whom he’d given a ride to. Andie rushed over to Wendy and spread out a blanket on the floor, along with the tote bag of toys Stephanie had brought along, and started playing with the baby.

Molly, who’d decided to cook the dinner herself, kept watching the clock, hoping the other authors would arrive before long. She let Lizzie and Sally-Jo help serve the hors d’oeuvres of crabmeat on crackers and stuffed endive but shooed them out of the kitchen when they tried to lend a hand with the main meal.

“Too many cooks,” Molly told them, laughingly. “Now shoo. Get back in there with your beaux.”

“Yoo-hoo. I’m here,” Teensy announced in a singsong voice as she sashayed into the kitchen. “You know, Molly, your front door is unlocked. Who knows how many unwanted guests you might be attracting. Myself excluded, of course.”

Molly laughed. “I thought the divas might let themselves in, just in case we don’t hear the bell. You didn’t happen to see them, did you?”

“No, I didn’t but I’ll bet my new red garters they’ll appear anytime soon. Those gals have radar and can tell just the right moment to make an entrance.”

Lizzie bit back a smile. Teensy would know.

Right on cue, they heard the front doorbell followed by an entrance by the divas, similar to that made by Teensy.

“I’m so sorry if we’re late,” Caroline said as she accepted the drink Bob held out to her. “The hours just fly by.”

Lorelie, not to be outdone, sat grandly on one of the wicker chairs, her hand outstretched to Bob. “Y’all know that a Southern belle cannot be rushed in any circumstances. I hope we haven’t ruined your schedule, Molly.”

“Not at all, but I’m afraid you won’t have too much time to linger over your cocktails,” Molly answered with a light tap on Bob’s arm. “Now, I’ll just check on the food and be right with you.”

Carter had followed the two women in and nodded a hello around the room, although he hadn’t said anything. He walked over to Bob, standing by the drink cart. “I could do with a cold beer if you have any there.”

Bob grinned. “Right up my alley.” He pulled a Coors from the small cooler on the bottom shelf. He looked over at Mark, who shook his head. “Molly is always prepared for any emergency.”

The meal was ready before they knew it and they retraced their way to the seats they’d taken just a short week earlier.
Was it really only a week ago all this started?
A lot had happened in that week’s time. No one would have imagined it all. Or had someone? Lizzie looked around the table at each of the authors and Carter. No one had an obvious motive to kill Ashley.

Lizzie believed that if her argument with Ashley needed to be recognized for what it was, nothing major, then the others deserved the same benefit of the doubt. Besides, she didn’t believe that anyone in real life would commit murder because she felt his or her book needed more exposure. A dead Ashley meant a momentary lapse in publicity, except for that which surrounded the actual murder. And a new publicist could choose to go either way. In fact, she or he could turn out to be worse. No, not a good motive.

“Lizzie, honey, would you pass along the roasted butternut salad, please?” Molly must have been asking a few times from the look on her face.

Lizzie shrugged an apology and passed the plate to Jacob on her left. She thought she’d bypass the extra calories this time.

“So, Chief,” A.J. asked, leaning slightly toward Mark, “who’s your number one suspect in the murder? I don’t believe that Lizzie should hold that spot for one minute.”

Lizzie grinned at him and quirked an eyebrow at Mark, who sat across from her. He finished chewing the forkful of pork roast in his mouth before answering.

“That spot is wide open at the moment. I can tell you, though, that we’re seriously looking into Ashley Dixon’s connections here in town, aside from Lizzie that is.”

Lizzie noted that Mark had been closely watching each of the authors in turn as he spoke. She wondered if he’d been enlightened any.

“The puzzler,” he went on, “is how Lizzie’s cell phone happened to be at the scene of the crime.”

Lizzie could hear the sound of the large mantel clock at the end of the dining room ticking away. No one had any comment on that topic, she was sorry to note.

“Surely you were able to pull some fingerprints from it, other than Lizzie’s?” A.J. asked, leaning on his elbows. Lizzie noticed he seemed to be relishing the discussion. Of course, she reminded herself, he did write police stories.

“Funny thing about that,” Mark answered. “It had been wiped clean. There were no prints on it, not even Lizzie’s.” He finished the last of the roasted potatoes on his plate but Lizzie could tell he was alert to what was happening around him.

Gigi made a squeaking sound. “Oops, excuse me,” she said and cleared her throat. “Isn’t that really odd?” she asked.

Mark looked at her a few seconds before answering. “Very. Why wipe your phone if you’re just carrying it? And why plant a phone with no prints if you’re wanting to frame someone?”

Gigi shifted in her seat. “That would make a good plot.”

“A plot involving your funeral home?” Lorelie asked in a voice registering her disapproval. Lizzie wasn’t sure of what, though.

Molly cleared her throat and asked, “Can I get anyone anything else? More roast? More veggies?”

Everyone was in agreement on one thing anyway, and that was they were quite full.

Gigi glared at Lorelie and then said, “Well, I saw you put your cell away in your purse, Lizzie, at the book fair in the morning just as it was getting started. You must have lost it later in the day or evening.”

“Probably,” Lizzie answered and wondered why that would stick in Gigi’s mind anyway.

“Well it sort of sounds like a plot in one of Margaret’s books,” Carter said, then looked startled. He turned to his wife and said, “Sorry, that’s Caroline’s books. Do you remember? The one about the guy who murdered his wife?”

Caroline looked miffed. “Most of my plots involve the husband murdering the wife.” She turned slightly to look at Carter. “Or the wife murdering the husband.”

Lorelie snorted in a very unladylike manner. She excused herself and dabbed at her mouth daintily with her napkin.

“I must admit,” Molly said in a loud voice, “to having cheated with the desserts. We have a marvelous bakery in town, LaBelle’s, and I’ve chosen two of their most delicious offerings.”

She started clearing the table with the help of Andie and Lizzie while Sally-Jo noted everyone’s preferences for coffee or tea. Gigi brought into the kitchen a couple of serving dishes while Lizzie was stacking the plates.

“I’m pretty amazed that you can remember me with my cell phone last week,” she said to Gigi.

“Well, I am a writer. I’m very observant. It’s like doing research all the time.” She left the room and was back in with two more dishes in a few minutes. “You know, though, on second thought, I may have seen you put the Nokia down on the registration table. Hopefully it wasn’t tossed in the trash. Or perhaps someone picked it up.”

“As in the killer?”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean that,” Gigi said hastily. She left again and when Lizzie went back to the dining room, Gigi was deep in conversation with Jacob. And Lizzie was left thinking that Gigi really was very observant to know the make of her old cell phone.