Authors: Erika Chase
Chapter Seventeen
Murder doesn’t round out anybody’s life except the murdered’s and sometimes the murderer’s.
THE THIN MAN
—DASHIELL HAMMETT
T
he bell over the door announced her arrival at the Book Bin. Jensey Pollard looked
up from the catalogue she perused. Lizzie noticed the store was empty so she’d have
all of Jensey’s attention.
“Is this usually a slow time of day for you?” Lizzie asked. She was surprised, so
close to Christmas.
Jensey covered a yawn with her hand. “You can never tell with the book business. There’s
really no such thing as a regular day, except for Saturdays. They’re always busy,
which is a damn good thing.” She let out a long sigh. “And the Christmas daily rush
usually starts around this weekend.”
“It must be tougher these days what with e-readers and the like.”
“You’ve got that right. It’s tough being an independent these days, what with online
buying and the big-box stores, too. But I still have my regulars who check the Internet
for new titles, then come in and buy them from me. And then, of course, there are
lots of folks who are paper book junkies, like me. They need to be able to feel them,
see them and often use them in decorating schemes.” She laughed. “That’s why I always
have such a nice selection of hardback coffee table books on hand.”
Lizzie made sympathetic noises, picked up the latest Krista Davis from the front display
and casually said, as she pulled out her wallet, “Ken Wicks was telling me yesterday
that Derek Alton had lived in Ashton Corners about twenty-five years ago.”
Jensey fumbled with the page as she turned it. “Did he really? I wonder where he got
that? I’ve never seen that in a bio anywhere.”
“I know. I’ve checked but his bios are sadly lacking any real information and there’s
nothing previous to his winning the Onyx. But you’ve lived here a long time and you
don’t remember him.” She left the statement hanging.
“No, I never heard his name until, like you, with the award. Now, can I put that through
for you or can I tempt you with another title?”
Lizzie shook her head. “One per visit after last Saturday’s splurge, I’m afraid.”
She handed over the cash. “Can you suggest anyone I should talk to in town who might
know for sure, one way or another?”
“No. Why don’t you just leave it to the police? I’m sure they’ve been real thorough.
And you having so much on your plate and all.”
Lizzie nodded. “You’re probably right.” But she wondered why Jensey was so concerned
about her plate, which wasn’t really that full.
* * *
L
izzie pulled into the empty parking spot in front of the Corners Realty at the stroke
of three thirty. When she entered the office, the face she’d seen on so many Corners
Realty “For Sale” signs smiled up at her from the reception desk. Lizzie walked over
and introduced herself.
“Oh my, yes. And you’re right on time, too. If you don’t mind, we’ll talk out here.
I’m covering for our receptionist, who’s just run out on an errand.”
“That’s fine,” Lizzie said as she sat in the armchair facing the desk. “I won’t take
up much of your time. I just wanted to ask if you knew Derek Alton, since you’d inquired
about attending the book club meeting last week.”
“Oh my, Derek Alton. Now, that was such a shame, wasn’t it? To think something like
that could happen here in Ashton Corners. And he was shot dead in your very own house,
wasn’t he? That was just dreadful. How are you coping, dear?”
Lizzie inwardly cringed. She hated being called “dear” by anyone, especially if that
person might be only fifteen or so years older than she. “I’m doing all right, Ms.
Henshaw. I guess you heard about it on the news?”
“Yes. Yes, I did.” Her voice had taken on an edge. “I’m curious why you wanted to
come to the meeting. We haven’t had anyone ask to do that before and then we had two
requests for the Derek Alton night, you and Calvin Knox. It seemed odd.”
“Calvin?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“The name sounds a bit familiar but he’s not someone I socialize with. Does he live
in town?”
“No, in River’s End.”
“Well, did he say why he wanted to attend the meeting?” Henshaw sounded like she was
conducting an interrogation.
“Uh, no. Just that he was a fan. Like you.”
“Well, yes. I loved
Judgment
and I was looking forward to hearing about the book he was working on. I’d heard
it was to be a sequel. Did he tell you anything about it? I understand you’d had dinner
with him.” She leaned forward across the desk, a steely look in her eyes.
Lizzie guessed she’d better get used to having that dinner thrown in her face. Small
towns and all that. “He didn’t say anything about his book. He was saving that for
Thursday.” And that’s all she planned to say about that.
“Uh-huh. A romantic dinner, then.”
That woman would just not leave it alone
. I wonder if she’s friends with Officer Craig?
“More a fact-finding dinner. About the book club. So, did you know him other than
as an award-winning author?”
“No, not Derek Alton. I admired his talent and after reading
Judgment
, I wanted to meet him and talk to him. That’s easy to understand, isn’t it?” She
was starting to sound hostile, so Lizzie thought it time to change the topic.
“I’ve seen your signs all over town. You must be one of the busiest Realtors.”
“I’ve been very successful in this business but it’s not easy for a woman, you know.
The men in it are ruthless and I’ve had to work extra hard to reach the top.”
“How long have you been a Realtor?”
“Over eighteen years now.” She glanced at the sales award framed on the side wall.
“And are you an Ashton Corners native?”
The eyes narrowed again. “Why do you ask?”
“Just that it’s probably especially difficult if you’re new to the town and don’t
have any of the contacts that go along with growing up here.”
Henshaw’s shoulders relaxed. “You’ve got it.”
“Where exactly are you from?”
“Oh, upstate but I consider Ashton Corners my home.” She looked pointedly at her watch.
“I really must get on with my work now. I have several clients to phone.”
Lizzie stood. “I understand and I thank you for your time. Did you move here when
you got your Realtor’s license?”
Xenia shrugged her shoulders. “Around that time.”
“By the way, are you sure you didn’t know Derek when he lived here, if you’ve been
around that long?”
She bristled. “Who told you he’d lived here?”
“I’m not sure . . . I’ve spoken to so many people about him.”
Henshaw took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “As I already said, I didn’t know
Derek Alton. Now, you really must excuse me.” She stood and walked around to the front
of the desk.
“Thanks for your help,” Lizzie said, and she left with a dozen questions floating
around in her head. Primarily, had everything she’d been told been the truth?
Chapter Eighteen
“At any rate, my friend,” he said seriously, “I know now something I wanted to know.
Let us leave it at that.”
THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
—AGATHA CHRISTIE
C
alvin Knox had been there all along. Lizzie couldn’t believe she’d missed his name
and number in the online 411 directory. Must have been a typo on her part. She copied
down his phone number and address, picked up the phone to dial and then decided to
pay him a visit instead. She glanced at the clock on her desk. Four thirty. It would
take only half an hour to drive to River’s End. She’d always wondered about that name,
seeing as there was no river and therefore, no end.
Oh well
. She keyed the address into Google to search for directions on the computer, printed
it out and hurried downstairs. She filled the cats’ dishes, grabbed her keys and dashed
out to the car.
The drive took her over to the 49 heading north past Gleeson. If she were out for
a pleasant afternoon drive, she would have delighted in the passing scenery. Instead,
she formulated questions as she drove along. And worried about whether he’d be home.
She knew nothing about the man, where he worked, what hours, whether it would be safe
to talk to him alone. Yet she felt certain if she alerted him to her visit, he’d make
sure he wasn’t there. He hadn’t answered her email, after all.
She also wondered if Mark had already tracked him down and checked him out. That was
likely but it didn’t mean she couldn’t do the same.
She easily found the address belonging to a two-story, four-apartment building. Calvin
resided in the lower right-hand unit. Lizzie rang the doorbell and shifted from foot
to foot while waiting for him to answer the door. It finally creaked open and a sleepy-looking
man poked his head around the jamb. His thinning brownish hair hung in his eyes. He
curled out his bottom lip and blew it away, then donned a pair of brown-rimmed glasses.
“Who are you?” he managed to get out before being overwhelmed by a coughing spell.
Lizzie waited until he’d finished before answering, backing away slightly. “My name
is Lizzie Turner and I’m part of the Ashton Corners Mystery Readers and Cheese Straws
Society. You contacted me about attending our meeting last week, the one that Derek
Alton was supposed to attend.”
His glasses had slid forward on his nose and he pushed them back up before answering.
“Um, yes. Yes, I did.”
“I didn’t hear back from you.”
“Thought there was no point since he’d died and all.”
“Why were you planning on coming in the first place? Were you a big fan or did you
know him?”
“I thought I did.” He backed away from the door. “You had better come on in.”
She walked hesitantly through the door and into the living area. A single couch, a
worn-out wing chair and a battered coffee table took up much of the space. His small
kitchen table was cluttered with a computer and papers, allowing only small portions
of the yellow Formica top to peer through. The kitchen counter did little to hide
the few but messy dishes piled there.
What appeared to be manuscript pages were laid out on the coffee table along with
two coffee cups, still holding the dregs of whitened coffee, and a stained white ceramic
ashtray semifilled with cigarette butts.
Lizzie was hesitant to sit on anything but had to once Knox had plunked down on the
couch. She perched on the edge of the couch and tried to surreptitiously read the
pages in front of her.
“So how did know Derek Alton?” she asked.
He stared at her a couple of moments before answering. “He stole my manuscript.” He
held up his hand to ward off any comments when he saw the look of incredulity on her
face. “I know you won’t believe me. Nobody has. I’ve told the publishers, the media,
anyone who would listen, but I don’t have any proof.” He rested his head in his hands.
“I don’t understand. Which book are we talking about?”
Knox reached for a cigarette and Lizzie cringed. He noticed the look on her face and
put it back in the package. “You know how big a hotshot writer he became after his
first book won that prize? Well, he just couldn’t get it together for the second one.
So he got a job teaching creative writing at night school. That was in 1995. I had
a brilliant idea but couldn’t quite get the hang of writing a novel so I took his
course. He encouraged me, said I had real talent and offered to critique any of my
work. So I gave him my manuscript. He took it and after several weeks, gave it back
and said it didn’t work and that rather than belabor it, I should just ditch it and
start all over on something new. I was devastated but I believed him, especially when
he told me I had talent. Just had to keep plugging away at it. So I did. And then,
a couple of years later, he published his second novel, only it was my plot. My characters.
He had changed it a whole lot but it was still my book. But I hadn’t kept a copy of
it so I couldn’t prove it.”
“Did you confront him about it?”
“I did but he said he didn’t know what I was talking about. After I contacted his
publisher, he got in touch with me and said he’d sue the pants off me if I didn’t
back off. And, he’d make sure I never got anything published in the future. I believed
him, so I let him get away with it.”
“So, why did you want to see him again? What did you hope to accomplish?”
Knox stood abruptly and walked over to the window. “I wanted to make him pay. I don’t
know how, but I wanted the famous author to pay.”
“Did you shoot him?” Lizzie surprised herself by asking, then glanced at the front
door in case she needed a fast escape route.
Knox turned and looked at her, a look of total surprise on his face. “Of course not.
I don’t believe in weapons of any kind. That was a long time ago and I’m still not
published so his threats mean little to me now. I guess I wanted to embarrass him.”
Lizzie pointed at the manuscript. “It looks like you’re still writing.”
“In my spare time. I have a job at Herren Farm Supplies, and I write at night. Every
now and then I send it somewhere but it always comes back. I really don’t believe
anymore that I’ll ever be published but I keep on sending it anyway.”
Lizzie nodded. “Did you see him at all when he came to Ashton Corners?”
“No. He died in his full glory, not an embarrassment to his name. Lucky bastard.”
Lizzie drove home quickly. She’d been creeped out by Calvin Knox’s obvious hatred
of Derek and his displeasure at not having had a chance to put his plan into action.
But why had he told her about it? So she’d think him innocent? Basically admitting
to having a motive but not to being a murderer?
He didn’t sound like a murderer. Unless he’d built himself up to such a frenzy by
the time Derek had arrived that he quickly abandoned his original idea and pulled
the trigger instead.
That could be a possibility. She just wasn’t sure how to prove or disprove it. She’d
put it to the book club. In this instance, six heads would be better than one.