Authors: Erika Chase
“I know that was his name when he lived in Ashton Corners over twenty years ago and
before he became a famous writer, at which time he changed his name. And, I know that
he was very cozy with some women in town.”
Trendy nodded. She wrung her hands. “I . . . I just can’t bring myself to tell you.
I can’t let anyone know.”
Lizzie leaned toward her and spoke in a gentle voice. “Mrs. Trendy, I’ve no wish to
spread any gossip or tell anyone something that might damage your reputation, if that’s
what you’re worried about. I will have to tell the police, if it suggests you might
be a murder suspect, though.”
Trendy gasped. “I did not kill Harvey—I mean Derek. I didn’t. You have to believe
me. And you might as well call me Nola.” She sighed and stared out the window, into
the past. “I knew he was in town and I heard he’d be speaking to your book club. But
I went out of my way to avoid seeing him. I had no idea that Derek and Harvey were
the same person until I finally read
Judgment
about three years ago. I saw his picture on the cover. He’d changed a lot. He used
to have glasses. Maybe he used contacts these days. And he now has a beard. It took
a minute or so but I knew it was him. I was totally shocked, especially when it mentioned
on the jacket that the book was set in a small Southern town. So much of it sounded
like Ashton Corners, I thought. And I got to wondering if he might have been basing
some of it, at least, on people here.”
“Did he try to contact you?”
“No, thank God.” She was almost in tears. Lizzie felt badly but had to press on.
“What made you think it was Ashton Corners?”
Trendy took a deep breath. “Some of the descriptions. You probably wouldn’t connect
it if you weren’t looking for it, but I was. Especially after I’d read about the . . .
the affairs the main character, Flynn, had.”
“Did you recognize some of those women?”
“I thought so but I wasn’t positive.”
“Were you one of them?”
The tears started and she pulled a tissue out of her pocket. She nodded. “I was newly
married and my husband, he was a salesman for Rallest Chemicals and traveled a lot,
and I was so lonely. I decided to take a night-school class at the high school and
Harvey was the teacher. He told me I had talent and offered to help me. Well, one
thing led to another . . . and we had an affair. It only lasted a month, though, and
then I saw him with another of the students and knew it was her turn. I was so ashamed,
I quit the class, never wrote again and also didn’t tell anyone about it.”
“Really, it won’t get spread around,” Lizzie assured her, thinking how much it sounded
like Sally-Jo’s story.
“It can’t. I’m a grandmamma. Who wants stories like that going around about their
granny?”
Lizzie felt badly for her. She sounded like a really decent woman who’d given into
temptation and now lived in fear of the truth getting out.
“I’m not certain if I have to tell the police about this. I need to think about it.
Can you tell me the names of anyone else he was having an affair with? I’m just looking
for someone who may have been in contact with Derek recently.”
Trendy thought a few minutes then shook her head. “I’m sorry. No, wait . . . I’m pretty
sure Karen Goodrow had a relationship of some sort with him. I saw them kissing in
the park one day, behind a tree. I hurried off before they saw me. And Cassie Noonan.
She was in the night-school class. Of course, I don’t know their married names. Cassie
went to Ashton High and was a couple of years behind me but I didn’t know Karen at
all before the writing class.”
“Does any of this help?”
“It might.” Lizzie stood. “I should get to work now. I’m truly sorry for making you
feel so badly, Nola, but I really thank you for being so candid.”
Trendy stood and gave her a shaky smile. “You know, I do feel better for having finally
talked about it. Confession must be good for the soul.” She gave a thin laugh. “If
you read the book and didn’t make the connection to Ashton Corners, that’s also a
relief to know. I think I’ll finally put this all behind me.”
At the door, Lizzie impulsively gave Trendy a quick hug and left the other woman smiling
as she went out to her car. Lizzie gave a thumbs-up to Officer Verge and got in her
car. History seemed to repeat itself with Derek, Lizzie thought as she drove off.
Chapter Thirty
No, no, dear lady. I’m sure everything you did was for the best.
A RARE MURDER IN PRINCETON
—ANN WALDRON
V
anda Striker leaned over the front counter in the main office, her back to the door,
arms waving. Lizzie took that as a signal to quietly back out and disappear. The school
secretary saw Lizzie as her savior and waved at her. Vanda pivoted and her face lit
up.
“Lizzie. Thank God you’re finally here. I have a major calamity about to happen and
I need to attend to it right away. I’d like you to take charge of the dress rehearsal
this morning, please.” She had just the right amount of begging in her voice to make
Lizzie agree, although she resented the dig at the hour of her arrival. She was ten
minutes early, for pity’s sake.
“Of course. What’s going on?”
“Santa Claus is in the hospital. His wife called about a half hour ago to say he was
admitted last night. Now I’ll need to find a replacement real quick.”
“What happened to him?” Lizzie asked. She could see Betsey, the secretary, roll her
eyes toward the ceiling and clamp her mouth shut. This oughta be good.
“Seems like he was putting up the outside lights at their house and the ladder got
away from him. He landed in the holly bush and was in such a rush to get out of there,
he tripped and hit his head on the wooden sleigh in the yard. He’s not seriously hurt
or anything, thank goodness, but he is out of commission for a few days. You’d think
she could have let us know last night and that would have given me plenty of time
to start calling around.” Vanda finished with a huge sigh.
“I guess his wife was pretty worried about him. It would have slipped her mind until
she saw it on the calendar or something this morning,” Lizzie ventured.
“I know you’re right and I should feel sorry for the poor guy, but this pageant is
jinxed. He’s the second Santa we’ve gone through, what with Ken having to leave early
on vacation. In fact, he got his neighbor to stand in. This guy has been playing Santa
for years now, even has his own costume, which was just great. I don’t have a clue
where to start looking.”
Vanda turned back to the secretary. “Would you please check in the directory and on
the Internet and see if there’s a Santa Claus society or association or some such
thing in town. I just need a contact and I can go from there.”
Lizzie suggested, “Why not call the man’s wife back and ask if she or he can suggest
someone?”
Vanda stared at Lizzie a moment, her mouth slightly open, as the words pushed through
her self-created stress zone. “Why, that’s brilliant, Lizzie. Thank you so much. I’ll
do that right now. Of course, she’s bound to know of someone. I should have thought
of that myself.” And with that, she fled down the hall in the direction of her own
office.
Lizzie watched in amazement. She’d never seen Vanda so stressed before. Unflappable
Vanda Striker. Wow. She gave Betsey a shrug and followed in Vanda’s direction, making
a beeline to the gym. She wanted to check that everything had been set up for the
day’s pageant rehearsals. Several rows of chairs had been placed theatre style for
the various teachers and whoever else might stop by to watch. Although it wasn’t open
to the public, often mamas would trickle in for a sneak preview. Also, the entire
school would be watching today, since they were putting on the program, the classes
wouldn’t be able to sit in the audience tomorrow.
Satisfied, Lizzie glanced at the large clock hanging to the left of the stage. Rehearsals
would begin, in order of the program, in twenty minutes. She wondered what was left
for her to do. She’d received a copy of the schedule yesterday in her mailbox, as
had all the teachers. They all knew their roles.
She pulled out the file folder with her notes and comments. She’d been working on
them, polishing them as she watched various classes practice, and she hoped they’d
work. It was the timing that concerned her. If a class went overtime, Lizzie would
have to edit her comments on the fly; she would need to add filler if the reverse
happened. Her main role was to introduce the teachers and the classes, along with
a little spiel about what they’d be doing. She pictured herself on the stage, in her
elf costume, and shuddered.
* * *
T
he classes started arriving in time and sat in order of performance. With all the
shuffling it took longer than expected, but the level of excitement was high. Lizzie
smiled and took her place at the podium, set up on the extreme right of the stage,
ready to welcome them all.
By the time the final class had performed, there were still twenty minutes before
lunch. All had timed out rather well, Lizzie thought. But still no sign of Vanda.
She went in search of her and found her hunched over her desk, phone receiver to her
ear.
Lizzie gave her a thumbs-up sign when she finally glanced over; Vanda nodded and waved
her out of the room. Lizzie took that as a sign to mean she was off the hook and decided
to go home for lunch. She wanted to be out of sight, out of mind, for an hour. An
hour all her own and she’d spend the rest of the time trying to figure out what the
code names they’d found in Derek’s notes meant.
The cats did not come running when she opened the door, a sure signal they were tucked
in asleep somewhere, probably on her bed. She ran softly upstairs to check, and sure
enough, that’s where they were.
She went down to the kitchen, pulled out the tuna salad wrap she’d made for lunch,
filled a glass with water and set them on the kitchen table. She glanced out the window
and felt a small spasm of fear. Maybe she shouldn’t sit in full view. Nonsense. There
was a police car out front, and besides, she didn’t believe the killer was after her.
Maybe if she kept telling herself that, it would be true.
She found her notes, sat down and ate while she read through them. She sat thinking
about the plot of
Judgment
. She’d enjoyed the writing style—smooth and yet snappy but with an undercurrent of
sarcasm. Overall the story had left her feeling down. The main protagonist was a male,
midthirties, a visual artist with a well-developed ego but small bank account. Although
married, to a travel agent, he put a lot of time and energy into casual affairs with
women in the town. Most of them didn’t know how to play by his rules and explosive
scenes would take place throughout the book. However, the final of his conquests was
the affair that lasted the longest. He didn’t know why because he readily admitted
he didn’t love her. He laughed it off. After several months, she told him she was
pregnant and he demanded she have an abortion. She offered to divorce her husband,
suggested the artist should divorce his wife and they’d marry. She threatened to kill
herself, which again he laughed off. At this point he simply packed up and left town
with his wife. No one knew where they’d gone. Leaving his lover poised to kill herself,
rifle barrel stuck in her mouth. The end.
Lizzie shook her head. “The Lady, or the Tiger?”
all over again. Did she kill herself or not? And, who was she? Someone real, from
Ashton Corners?
Lizzie wasn’t quite sure why the book had won an award but admitted she often couldn’t
understand what others saw as winners. She did have definite thoughts on the inspiration
for the plot and characters. Although Ashton Corners was not identifiable in any way,
Derek certainly was, from what she’d learned about him. Derek Alton as Flynn, writer
and artist.
And even more so, was the book he was working on indeed the sequel to this? Nothing
more could happen to the final lover, but what did he have in store for the others?
Were they the code words she’d found listed in his notes at Mark’s office? She glanced
at the clock. She had to get back to school and, she was sure, another meeting with
Vanda Striker.
Chapter Thirty-one
Murder will out.
“THE PRIORESS’S TALE”—CHAUCER
A
note awaited her in her mailbox in the school office. Vanda Striker would be out
of the school for the remainder of the afternoon. She would see Lizzie first thing
in the morning. Hooray! Lizzie decided to play hooky, also. Although that wasn’t truly
the case, as she had to go down to the school board office and pick up some books
she’d ordered that had arrived there. They’d never make it through the internal mail
drop before school vacation started the following week.
She found the parking lot at the downtown location surprisingly empty. Either Christmas
holidays had started early at the mother ship or other things were afoot. She gasped
at that thought. Today was the staff Christmas luncheon being held at Bennie’s Bistro
just down the street. She’d been invited, although she couldn’t remember if she’d
RSVP’d. Hopefully she had and sent her regrets.
She gave a quick heads-up to Officer Verge and ran inside to the Curriculum offices
on the second floor. She checked her mailbox and read the note that books she’d ordered
were on the floor behind the counter. She read the labels. Great—her Rapid Reads.
That Canadian supplier wasted no time. She hoisted the two boxes off the ground and
made her way back out to her car. Officer Verge jumped out of his cruiser and relieved
her of the boxes while she searched for her car keys, the ones she thought she’d slipped
into her jacket pocket but were actually lying at the bottom of her purse. Boy, she
was losing it.
He stashed the boxes in her trunk and, after hearing that Lizzie would be heading
home for the rest of the day, got back in his cruiser and waited to follow.
She arrived home just as Andie came sauntering down the street. Andie stooped to look
in the window of the cruiser and scoped out the driver before turning onto the driveway.
Lizzie stood at the trunk of her car, an amused look on her face.
“Does he meet with your approval?” Lizzie asked.
“I just wanted to make sure his eyes were open and he’s not dozing on the job. I hope
you’re still checking your car in the mornings. I don’t trust those guys to stay awake
all through a night shift.”
Lizzie chuckled. “I have the utmost confidence in them all. Now Andie, if you don’t
mind, I’d like you to tote those two boxes inside for me.”
Andie shrugged. “Sure.” She passed her backpack over to Lizzie and picked up both
boxes at the same time.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have done that. It’s bad for your back. One at a time, Andie,”
Lizzie chided.
Andie leaned against the car. “I already have a mama.” She added under her breath,
“Sort of.”
Lizzie bit her lip. Best not to laugh at a serious Andie. “You’re so right. I apologize.
I’ll open the front door and you can leave them at the bottom of the stairs, please.”
Andie stood after depositing the boxes. “I could truck them upstairs. I don’t mind.”
“Thanks, but I’m going to sort them down here first. Now, how’s the studying going?”
Andie groaned as she retrieved her backpack from the floor where Lizzie had placed
it. “If I flunk out of English Lit, will I have to drop the book club?”
Lizzie found that both pleasing and disturbing. The thought she might not pass was
upsetting, as it was Lizzie’s job to make sure she knew the work. But the fact that
she wanted to stick with the book club was heartening.
“No, you won’t, but let’s make sure you pass the exam. What’s giving you the most
trouble?” She led Andie to the kitchen table, poured them both some iced tea and slid
a plate of sugar cookies in front of her as Andie routed through her backpack. Her
choice of clothing didn’t reflect her despondency, Lizzie noted. The black long-sleeved
T looked like an artist’s splatter board. Her black jeans sported red and yellow circles
highlighting the torn parts. And on her feet were the bloodred New Rock boots she’d
been lusting after for months. Perhaps an early Christmas gift?
“This passage that starts on page 127”—she opened her book and pointed it out—“I still
don’t have a clue what the guy’s saying, ya know?”
“Well, tell me what you think about him. What’s he like as a guy?”
Andie went into a well-thought-out description that pleased Lizzie and gave her hope.
Andie seemed pleased by it, too.
“Okay, so what do you think his response would be to what’s happening? Think of him
as one of your friends. You know pretty well what they’d say or do. So what about
our fictional guy?”
Andie sat playing with her pencil, eyes focused on the wall across the kitchen. The
silence became longer and drawn out. Lizzie feared she’d lost her when suddenly Andie
explained what she’d been thinking.
“Not his words, of course, but that’s what he’s been getting at. Very good, Andie.”
Andie beamed. “Yah, I guess. That made it so much easier. You think if I look at all
the characters in that way, it’ll become easier to understand?”
“I’d say so. Now, any other specifics?”
They spent the next two hours going over passages and possible questions Lizzie had
found from old exams. By the time Andie left she seemed more confident. Lizzie hoped
it would last until her exam on Monday morning. She reiterated that Andie didn’t need
to show up for the book club meeting later but Andie insisted she needed a break and
promised not to stay too long.
Lizzie was hoping Molly would come but wasn’t so sure. After storming out of the last
meeting, even though she did apologize and seemed to be on good terms with Bob at
the concert, Lizzie wasn’t assuming anything. She’d just wait and see. She started
tidying the place then took a quick dinner break, thawing a piece of frozen catfish
and then baking it in a Creole sauce in the toaster oven. She added some leftover
veggies to the plate and sat to eat when the fish was done.
By the time Sally-Jo arrived, Lizzie had the place ready. She’d vacuumed the entire
main floor, washed down the powder room and put some empty serving dishes out on the
counter. Sally-Jo put her armload of goodies down on the table and shrugged out of
her heavy jacket.
“There’s a chill to the air tonight. Maybe we’ll have it cold for Christmas,” Sally-Jo
muttered.
“A cozy fireplace Christmas would be nice,” Lizzie agreed, thinking it was too bad
she didn’t actually have a fireplace. She helped Sally-Jo add some double chocolate
cookies to one of the serving plates. The doorbell rang and moments later, Stephanie
waddled into the kitchen followed by Jacob.
“We’re so glad you were able to come out, Stephanie,” Lizzie said.
“Me, too. I was going nuts in there. This child just doesn’t want to leave me,” Stephanie
replied, laying her right hand on her swollen belly. She reached over for a cookie
and bit in. “Oh, mama, this tastes so good. Sorry for not restraining myself but I
just cannot resist baking these days.”
“No problem,” laughed Sally-Jo. “They’re meant to be eaten.”
Jacob reached over and took one also. “In that case, I’m happy to help out.”
Jacob answered a knock on the back door and Andie entered. “Yo, Lizzie. Whoa, Steph . . .
you’re as big as a horse.”
“Thanks, Andie. I hope that’s good.”
Andie didn’t appear to have an answer. She just stared at Stephanie’s belly.
“Here, Andie,” said Sally-Jo, thrusting two plates of cookies into her hands, “please
take these into the living room and place them on the end table. In fact, y’all just
move on into the living room now. We’re done in here.” She finished filling the glasses
with tea and picked up the tray to follow them in.
Lizzie bit back a grin. Sally-Jo certainly seemed a lot more determined tonight. Maybe
it was the thought of facing the relatives next week or maybe she’d finally stopped
worrying about still being on the suspect list. Maybe they could ease that fear even
more tonight.
Bob and Molly arrived as they were getting seated. Lizzie was so pleased to see Molly
and also to see that she’d taken great care with her appearance. The old Molly was
back. She said a silent prayer of thanks. Molly, looking elegant in a mauve cashmere
sweater and matching pants, took a seat next to Lizzie while Bob hung up their jackets.
He sank into the wicker chair next to Stephanie, who sat on the straight-backed kitchen
chair Lizzie had provided just for her comfort, and gave her a wink as he asked, “You
still hanging around here? I thought we’d be visiting you in the hospital by now,
young lady.”
Stephanie sighed and Lizzie watched her belly rise and fall. “I sure do wish that
was so, Bob. I’m getting right tired of waiting. My body is so sore all over I just
want this to be over. I thought tonight might help take my mind off it.”
“Well, you can’t have the baby until Christmas Eve,” Andie wailed. “It would be sooo
cool. And then he could play the baby Jesus in the manger concert at the church next
year.”
Lizzie was surprised at Andie’s enthusiasm. She wouldn’t have thought it of her.
Bob said, “I hate to burst your bubble but a one-year-old’s not likely to lie in any
manger for a concert, not so far as I remember anyway. Only if you tie him in.”
Stephanie laughed. “Not that it would happen anyway because this here baby’s a girl.”
“Huh. You got that in writing or did you have one of those scans?” Bob asked.
“No. I just know it’s a girl. We’ve been bonding already.” Stephanie gently rubbed
her belly.
“Let’s hope that’s so, then,” Molly added. “Now, before we begin, I need to apologize
to y’all. I am truly embarrassed by my behavior the last time we were all together.
My manners just went all out the window.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jacob said. “We’ve already forgotten. That is, until you brought
it up again.” He grinned.
Molly couldn’t help but answer his smile with one of her own.
Lizzie smiled, too, hoping they were back on track. “Well, my reason for calling this
meeting tonight is to compare notes about
Judgment
. I take it y’all have read it?”
Everyone nodded.
“Good. I’ll lay out what I’ve learned about Derek Alton and how I’m thinking it all
ties into this book.” She told them about what she’d discovered since their last meeting,
including the search for the new manuscript. “I haven’t heard from Mark, Chief Dreyfus,
as yet so I’m assuming he hasn’t heard back from the agent. So we’re no further on
the new book. Except for this list of words. I wonder if they could be code names.
They don’t make sense otherwise, unless they were meant to trigger some thoughts.
I’ll read them out: ‘citron,’ ‘ending,’ ‘xenolith,’ ‘neglect,’ ‘julep’ and ‘veritas.’
What do y’all think?”
Bob said, between taking bites of his cheese straw, “It sounds like a long shot but
that’s what they could be. If so, what are you thinking they refer to?”
“Well, if
Judgment
was based partly on his escapades in Ashton Corners, then there are a lot of women
out there who were depicted in the book. Or maybe others who missed being in the first
go-round are now awfully anxious this is their turn. That would explain all those
women calling me and refusing to leave their names. Maybe these are codes for those
names.”
“If he was going to mention anything that could possibly identify them, then the married
ones in particular would be very nervous,” Bob said.
“Nervous enough to kill him?” Stephanie asked.
“Could be,” Bob agreed. “Anyone got any ideas about who those names refer to?”
Lizzie made a list as she spoke. “The only names I have are Xenia Henshaw, Karen Goodrow,
Cassie Noonan and Nola Trendy, along with a lot of unidentified callers.”
Molly had written them down, too. After a few minutes she said, “Well the first letter
could refer to the person’s first name. For instance, ‘xenolith.’ That’s got to be
the oddest word on the list. It could refer to Xenia Henshaw, in which case the last
letter in the code word would be the person’s surname.”
“You’ve got a mind like a steel trap,” Bob said, and Molly turned pink.
“And ‘neglect’ could be Nola Trendy,” Lizzie added. “It makes sense, Molly. ‘Citron’
for Cassie Noonan. But nothing for Karen Goodrow.”
“Y’all know who ‘julep’ would be then, don’t you?” Sally-Jo asked. “J. P.?”
Lizzie’s eyes grew wide as it dawned on her. “Jensey Pollard. I didn’t have her on
the list because she was too obvious. We know she knew Derek because I met him in
the Book Bin. But she told me she hadn’t known him before that. Of course, she could
be lying. Or it could be another J. P. entirely.”
“What could be her motive?” Jacob asked, taking a cheese straw from the plate Andie
passed around. “And what about you, Lizzie? We haven’t been seriously looking at who
would want to shoot you.”
“That’s because it’s unlikely anyone would. I haven’t made any serious enemies and
surely the killer must realize by now that I know nothing or he or she would be in
custody.”
“You’re probably right but I see the chief’s not taking any chances. You still have
your escort.”
“I’m going to suggest that end. I’m sure the officers are hoping by now that someone
will shoot me, just to make their shift more interesting.”
Molly gasped. “Oh, don’t even suggest that, honey.”
“No, really. I honestly and truly don’t believe I need protection.”
I hope.
“I have a question,” Jacob said. “If he was Harvey Warren when he lived here but he
wrote as Derek Alton, how do all these women know to call and ask about the book?”
“Good question,” Lizzie agreed. “Probably like Nola Trendy. She recognized his photo
on the book jacket.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to need a hand standing up,” Stephanie wailed. “I really need
to use your powder room, Lizzie.”
Jacob and Sally-Jo both launched out of their chairs and gave her a hand. Stephanie
waddled down the hall and they all found it hard not to stare. Lizzie spoke to get
their attention refocused.