Read and Buried (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-seven

She patted my hand and gave a little laugh. “That’s an excellent idea.”

STATE FAIR
—EARLENE FOWLER

L
izzie stopped by the Corners Realty on her way home from school the next day. If Officer
Yost, today’s escort, asked why, she planned to say she was thinking of buying a house.
Which she did think about once in a while. Just not now. She’d spent most of the afternoon
ducking Vanda Striker, but she did want to see Xenia Henshaw. After she’d finished
her second reading of
Judgment
, she’d lain awake thinking about the plot, and thinking about the number of female
callers over the past week, all with the same question. Why, even Jensey Pollard had
asked about Alton’s new book. Again.

She’d developed a theory but wasn’t quite ready to share it with Mark. She now seriously
believed that the callers were worried that Derek might write them into the new novel.
But what did they have to hide? The affairs? Were these the same people she’d just
finished reading about? Was it really based on his short stay in Ashton Corners and
would the sequel be even more revealing?

She wasn’t so sure Xenia would be that cooperative but she had to try. This time when
she entered the realty office, someone else sat at the main desk. A young woman in
her midtwenties, dressed in a baggy orange knit sweater, one hand rocking a baby carrier
that sat on the floor beside her, looked up and asked how she could help. Turns out
she couldn’t. Xenia had taken the day off and was at home nursing a migraine. Lizzie
thanked her and left. She knew where Xenia lived. She drove over to the west side
of town where the houses were older but still well maintained. Xenia lived in a pale
yellow clapboard bungalow. The side wraparound porch looked inviting, even though
it lacked furniture. The two bushy cedars on either side of the front steps needed
trimming.

Xenia answered the door on the third ring. She looked surprised and less than happy
to see Lizzie, who knew she’d better talk her way through the door quickly if she
wanted any answers.

“I’m really sorry to bother you at home but I just have to ask you a couple of questions.
It won’t take more than a few minutes,” she promised.

Xenia let out a deep sigh but stepped back to allow Lizzie to enter. The interior
didn’t follow through with the warmth of the outside appearance. The entry needed
a light turned on, which Xenia didn’t do. Instead she opened a leaded glass door and
led Lizzie into a blue and white living room. It looked like something out of a decorating
magazine, but Lizzie shivered in the cool tones.

Lizzie sat in a wing-back chair covered in blue brocade while Xenia sank onto the
white leather sofa, her thigh-length black sweater flowing out around her.

“I’m really not much up to talking today,” Xenia said, putting on some dark sunglasses
that had been on the end table.

“I promise this will be fast. You’d said Derek, or Harvey, rather, had affairs when
you lived in town before. Did he ever talk about them?”

Xenia’s bottom jaw dropped open. “What? You’ve got a nerve asking a question like
that.”

“Not really. You brought the topic up last time we spoke. I just wondered if you knew
the names of any of the women. It happened so long ago, I thought you’d be well over
it. Surely you didn’t carry a grudge after all these years?”

Xenia played with the bottom fringe of her sweater. “No, of course not. He meant nothing
to me now. He did have several short affairs. That was his style. He needed an ego
boost, I guess. I put up with it for a while but then I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“And that’s why you divorced?”

“What do you think? Of course it was.”

“You said you’d loved
Judgment
?” Lizzie asked. “Do you think he would use himself as the main character and write
about his affairs?”

“Actually, you could say I wasn’t quite truthful about that. I had no desire to read
it but I needed a logical excuse to go to your little club.”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed at that comment.

Xenia sat with her own eyes narrowed, obviously giving the question some serious thought.
Finally, she replied. “But to answer your question, it’s possible. He’d been struggling
with his writing. He just couldn’t do characterization. Couldn’t get into the heads
of his characters. At least, that’s what the rejection letters all said. So maybe
that’s how he overcame the problem. He wrote from his own viewpoint. What a bugger.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows.

The phone rang. “Excuse me while I take that. I’m waiting for an important client
call.”

She left the room and Lizzie heard a door shut farther down the hall and then the
ringing stopped. She stood and wandered around the room, glancing at book titles in
the small bookcase next to the sofa.
Judgment
was tucked in between two nonfiction titles. So, what else had she lied about? Or
maybe she just hadn’t gotten around to reading it. Possible.

A small circular end table sat next to the bookcase. A clear Rubbermaid container
sat on it. Lizzie glanced at the handwritten white label. “Book Club.” Surprised,
Lizzie took a closer look. The container had cookies in it. She opened the lid and
looked at the peppermint chocolate chip cookies, the kind Derek had said he carried
everywhere with him. She quickly closed the lid and wondered about the label. Why
bring cookies to the book club?

Lizzie heard a door close and footsteps getting closer. She managed to sit back down
just as the door opened.

“I’m sorry about that. Realtors are not allowed sick days. They need to be available
to clients twenty-four/seven.”

Lizzie made sympathetic sounds. “If you have a chance,” she said, “I wish you’d read
Judgment
and let me know what you think of it. Especially if you think it’s based on reality.
I can lend you my copy.”

“I’ll think about it. I hadn’t wanted to read anything of his. I really haven’t wanted
to know what was going on in his mind, not for a long time now.”

Lizzie drove home slowly. Xenia sounded like she was telling the truth. It didn’t
seem like she had anything to hide. She was forthright in her opinion of Derek and
in sharing how she felt about him and the breakup of their marriage. Or so it seemed.

But what about those cookies? Derek’s favorite and the only kind he would eat. He
had said he always brought his own supply. Although, if his ex-wife thought he would
be visiting, it’s possible she would have made some for him. But they weren’t even
friends anymore, so why would she? And the book. Why borrow Lizzie’s copy when she
had her own? Clearly, she didn’t know this woman at all.

* * *

T
he next morning, Lizzie did her usual early run, Officer Craig following in the cruiser.
As Lizzie passed Nathaniel’s place at the start of her run she did a double take.
The silver Prius sat parked in the driveway. Awfully early for a visit. She soon forgot
about it until on her way back she glanced at Nathaniel’s front window. A gray-haired
woman appeared briefly, and either she liked casual wear or she had on a robe. The
Prius hadn’t moved.

Lizzie thought about it while she got ready for school. Surely, she’d been mistaken.
The robe was merely a colorful long sweater. Maybe he’d gotten a new housecleaner
and it was a smock. That had to be it. But his house must be very clean for the amount
of time that Prius spent in his driveway. She was dying to know what was going on
but not about to burst into his house and ask. She’d have to come up with a plan.

With just three days to go, the school gym had been blocked out for the individual
classrooms to practice their pageant numbers. Lizzie’s schedule would revolve around
these rehearsals as she tried to put together some fill material to talk about between
performances. She sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair next to the door. A couple
of the mamas who had volunteered for general duty sat close by, critiquing the kids
and discussing the latest sale at Walmart. When their own children were onstage, they
sat in rapt silence.

By noon, half of the classes taking part had finished and Lizzie had pages of notes.
She knew what her evening would be spent doing. At lunch, she suggested to Sally-Jo
that they go to Tessa’s Tex-Mex around the corner for some tacos. She was dying to
get out of the school.

“Did you finish
Judgment
?” Lizzie asked as they waited for the Creole chicken tacos they’d both ordered.

“Three chapters left to go. I’ll finish it tonight. If, as you think, it might be
a fictionalized version of Ashton Corners and some of its more desperate women, I
had no idea what’s been brewing underneath the genteel exterior. So, what else have
you learned lately that you’re holding back?”

“Hah. I’ve learned it’s true that Derek Alton used to live here, before he wrote
Judgment
. He changed his name when he sent the book out to publishers.”

“How do you know that?”

“His former wife, Xenia Henshaw, confirmed it.”

“Get away. Married? She was his wife? Give details, girl!”

Their food arrived, and between bites, Lizzie continued. “They were married back when
he was Harvey Warren. She returned to her maiden name after they divorced and then
moved back here and reinvented herself.”

“Wow. Did she admit it?”

“Eventually.”

“Do you think she killed him?”

Lizzie shrugged. “Hard to say. She says no and there’s no proof.”

“I truly don’t believe a woman scorned, especially if multiple times, is likely to
forgive and forget,” Sally-Jo finally said.

“But it was over twenty years ago. You think she’s still carrying a grudge?”

“Or maybe even a torch. Some women just like to lead tormented lives. That could be
part of the reason she moved back here. You know, memories around every corner, that
sort of thing.”

“That’s a pathetic thing to do, isn’t it?” Lizzie asked, washing the last bite of
her taco down with a long drink of sweet tea.

“Who’s to say this woman is normal? Or not? We don’t know her. She could be really
good at putting up a façade. Just look at all the serial killers who became serial
because no one could imagine them doing such a thing. We believe what feels good.”

“Wow, you’re very philosophical today. You could be right. However, Xenia has an airtight
alibi for the time Derek was murdered. She was showing a house to a client.”

“She could have hired someone to kill him. She probably can afford it.”

Lizzie sat thinking. “Okay, say you’re right. But why try to kill me, too?”

“To stop you from nosing around?”

“Sounds like a drastic way of doing that, don’t you think?”

“Uh-huh. But that’s the only way it could work, if she’s the killer. What’s nagging
at you?”

“Those cookies. If she still hates him, why bake his favorite cookies? Not only favorite,
but also the only kind he can eat? And why plan to bring them to the book club?”

“Maybe the container originally had something else in it that she was planning to
bring.”

“Like what?”

Sally-Jo shrugged. “Not a clue.”

“If she was planning to bring cookies for us all, why do that? She didn’t know any
of us, didn’t know we eat as much as we discuss. She had no reason to bring food.”

Sally-Jo shrugged. “I’m all out of ideas. I’ll tell you, though, I’m so relieved we’re
finding out he has a past here in town. It makes me look so much less likely a suspect,
don’t you think?

Lizzie reached across the table and squeezed Sally-Jo’s hand. “Yes, it does. But back
to the cookies. What if she was planning on poisoning Derek by making the switch at
the meeting?”

“What? We’d all get poisoned in that case.”

“Not if she managed to pass the plate to him or fake it in some way.”

Sally-Jo was silent for a few moments. “Hard to prove.”

“The proof is in the cookies.”

“I have two words for you. ‘Chief Dreyfus.’”

* * *

A
ndie was waiting on her doorstep when she arrived home. Lizzie told Officer Craig
she’d be home for the rest of the day and evening, while Andie did her usual inspection
of Lizzie’s car. Officer Craig watched in silence and slowly shook her head. She told
Lizzie her replacement would arrive shortly and be there for the next shift.

“So, how is the studying going, Andie?” Lizzie asked after they’d taken their jackets
off and gotten settled. She passed Andie a glass of orange juice and poured one for
herself.

Andie groaned. “I tried what you suggested last week and I thought it was helping
but I did a self-quiz last night and I suck.” She made a gagging gesture.

Lizzie sat looking at her for a few moments before suggesting, “Maybe you’re trying
too hard at this point. If you thought it was a good study method and you were learning,
you probably were. Once you added the pressure of the quiz, you tensed up and forgot.
Maybe we should try some relaxation techniques, too.”

“Oh yeah . . . like what?”

“Some deep breathing and maybe some positive visualization. You know, imagine your
end goal—a good grade on the exam—and how you’ll feel getting it. Then try to study
with that feeling in mind.”

Andie eyed her suspiciously. “You think that stuff really works?”

“It does for me. And it certainly can’t hurt. The deep breathing is a good technique
to try anytime you’re feeling a bit tense. And it’s easy. Sit up straight and we’ll
try it.”

Andie sat up and her black T with red splotches slid up her tummy. She pulled it down
and mimicked Lizzie, drawing her breath in until her tummy pushed out. She made a
face but continued to do nine reps.

By the time they’d finished the exercise, they were both totally relaxed.

Chapter Twenty-eight

It was going to be a long night.

DROPPED DEAD STITCH
—MAGGIE SEFTON

T
he doorbell rang and Lizzie quickly put the open bottle of wine down on the counter.
She’d asked Mark to stop by on his way home from work. She planned to tell him about
Ellen Germain and also about her Xenia Henshaw theory, but now that he was here, she
was having second and third thoughts. For starters, he’d be mad that she’d done as
much as she had. For seconds, he’d think she was nuts. Neither option pleased her.

She glanced in the hall mirror as she passed by and paused long enough to retwist
her hair and pin it up. She noticed Edam hovering on the top stair, having revisited
his intention of walking down at the sound of the bell. “It’s okay baby, just Mark.”

When she opened the door, Mark quickly entered, closed the door behind him and gave
her a big kiss.

“That’s such a great way to end a long, tiring day,” he whispered into her neck.

She pulled back slightly and gave him a quick kiss, feeling a bit guilty that his
day wasn’t yet over. “How about a glass of red wine while we talk? Or, I have some
Coors in the fridge.”

“Talk, huh? Fine. Red wine would be good.”

She led him into the living room, where she’d already closed the drapes, gave him
a gentle shove backward onto the settee, poured them both some wine and then sank
down beside him. They each took a couple of sips and then she leaned back and decided
to just get it over with. Ellen Germain would be the easier story to tell, especially
since all she really knew was that Ellen had attended the same college as Sally-Jo
and might therefore have known Derek Alton. Pure speculation.

Mark had pulled his notebook out and jotted some points then tucked it away and reached
for Lizzie. She grabbed his hands, took a deep breath and filled him in on her visit
to Xenia Henshaw. It didn’t take long.

“And just what was Officer Yost doing at this time?”

“I had said I was thinking about buying a new house,” she said, her cheeks turning
an embarrassing shade of red. “But you know what’s really interesting about all this
is a Rubbermaid container of cookies that was sitting on an end table in the living
room. It had a hand-printed label on it that said, ‘Book Club.’ So I assumed she’d
been planning to bring the cookies to the meeting.”

“This is leading somewhere, isn’t it?”

“Of course. Remember I told you that Derek Alton said he’d be bringing his own cookies?
Peppermint chocolate chip cookies. Well, that’s what was in her container. And being
his ex-wife, she would have known all about his allergies, right?”

Mark sat, glass in hand, staring at Lizzie and obviously processing what she’d just
told him. “That’s a fairly popular cookie. Lots of people, me included, like them.
You think she was going to take them to the book club and substitute them for the
ones Alton brought?”

“I do. But it doesn’t mean a thing unless they’re either strong enough to give him
a whale of an allergic reaction or she was meaning to poison him.”

Mark didn’t say anything for a few minutes. It was better than him laughing outright
at her, but not much. Finally he sat forward.

“There could be any number of innocent explanations, Lizzie.”

“Or not.”

He finally nodded. “I guess I’m going to have to get a warrant and have some of those
cookies tested. That’s what you were hoping, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I mean, it could just be a nice gesture on her part but I sort of doubt that.
And, since she did know all about his traveling with his own cookie stash, what a
great way to just knock the guy off.”

“Motive?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s still seething that he left her. Or she feels all those
affairs he had made a laughing stock of her.”

“That’s not too likely since she’s built up such a successful real estate business.”

“You’re right. But he did pay her a visit on his way over to my place. What if something
he said to her just made her go off the deep end?”

“And pick up a rifle, follow him and shoot him?”

Lizzie nodded and took another, longer, sip of her wine.

“It must have been a hell of a conversation. She has an alibi but I’d better check
it out more thoroughly.” He also took another sip. “So how do the cookies fit in?
She would have prepared them before that point.”

“Maybe they’d talked when he first arrived in town and something he said at that point
made her want to make up a batch of his cookes and tamper with them. She called about
coming to the book club the day after I met him in the store. He would have had time
to call her.”

Mark didn’t have an answer for that.

“And there’s more, but not about Xenia Henshaw. I’ve been getting phone calls from
women wanting to know if Derek mentioned anything to me about the content of his new
book. It’s supposed to be a sequel to the first,
Judgment
, and if, as I suspect, it was based on people in Ashton Corners, then there might
be a few women with secrets they don’t want revealed. Even if it is fiction. Xenia
Henshaw might be one of them.”

“Did he tell you about the new book?”

“Only that it was in the early writing stages. It would be good to read the manuscript.
Did you find a copy of it?”

“I’d have to take a look at the inventory. We did go through his computer but I was
interested only in emails that might have pointed to someone he knew here in town.”

“Okay. Could we maybe go to your office and see if the manuscript is on the computer?
Is that where it is now?”

Mark groaned. “I was so hoping for an evening away from work.” He downed the rest
of his wine. “I guess we might as well get this theory checked out.” He stood and
held out a hand to her.

“I’d imagine you’d like to be in on this,” he said with a grin, “and since you’ve
have read the first book, it would be a good idea to have you check this one. Even
though it’s against my better judgment.”

Lizzie glanced at him quickly to see if he’d meant the double entendre. He grinned.
He had.