Authors: Erika Chase
“Any suggestions?”
“Re-read, re-think and re-solve . . . how’s that?” Bob suggested.
“Wow,” Andie exclaimed. “That’s cool.”
They all agreed and tucked into another cheese straw, passed around this time by Sally-Jo.
They’d all steal glances toward the doorway, and after a very long time, Stephanie
came waddling back in. Lizzie breathed a sigh of relief. She’d envisioned a water-breaking
crisis or some such thing. Although it would be better if it happened with them all
around and able to help.
“I’m sorry but I gotta go home and lie down. Baby’s getting tired.” Stephanie looked
exhausted.
Jacob leapt up. “I’m ready. Andie, I’ll give you a lift also if you like.”
“Don’t forget our Christmas party is next Thursday night. And only a small gift for
the name you drew,” Lizzie reminded them.
“Looking forward to it,” Jacob said and opened the door for his passengers.
The three left followed by Sally-Jo and then Bob and Molly.
Lizzie fell asleep trying to picture who in Ashton Corners might be on that list.
The problem was, she kept rejecting faces that came to mind. Other than Xenia Henshaw
and Nola Trendy, she had no idea what type he went for. Well, Sally-Jo. But that only
broadened the possibilities. She needed to narrow them down.
Chapter Thirty-two
If I hear or see anything else I’ll report back. And don’t forget, this is between
us two.
WARNING AT ONE
—ANN PURSER
T
he school halls were teeming with parents streaming toward the gymnasium, with the
aid of some teens from the high school who were helping out as ushers as part of their
community involvement marks.
Lizzie could hear Vanda Striker as she burst into the staff room calling out Lizzie’s
name only to be told Lizzie was in the restroom changing her clothes. Vanda pounded
on the door and Lizzie opened it a crack.
“Do you need any help?” Vanda demanded.
Lizzie could hear she was tight as a wire. This was so un-Vanda. What was going on
with the woman? “No, I’m all right. I’ll be out in a minute. Why don’t you sit and
take a break. I’m sure everything’s coming along as it should.” She looked down at
her costume. She looked like a frog. A frog with a short skirt of green leaves. Ugh.
She should never have agreed to wear this. Mrs. Farnshaw had done a fine job of sewing
it. But the design was totally ridiculous. She worried about hurting the poor woman’s
feelings, though, so she reminded herself to keep her thoughts to herself.
She left her sanctuary in the restroom with great hesitation. Fortunately, the staff
room had cleared, as all teachers needed to be with their classes, trying to keep
the lid on the excited kids and make sure they were ready.
“Oh, don’t you look just . . .” Vanda faltered. “Oh my, . . . I’m sorry, Lizzie. It’s
not really what I had in mind. But the children will love it. And that’s what counts.
Here, don’t forget this bracelet of bells.”
She slid it over Lizzie’s right hand. “It will make so much more noise if you wear
it on your right.”
Lizzie groaned. She looked at Vanda, who appeared about ready to cry. Too dramatic
a reaction to a silly costume. “Vanda, what’s wrong?”
Vanda shook her head and sniffed. “No, I can’t stop to think about it, Lizzie. This
day is for the children. We’re going to make sure it’s one they remember.” She stood
and straightened her skirt and walked to the door. She turned back to Lizzie as she
went through the doorway. “Ethan is leaving me.”
Lizzie stood with her mouth open. The very proper community leader, Ethan Striker,
was leaving Vanda? What was that all about? Poor Vanda. No wonder she was such a basket
case these days. She felt badly but knew there was nothing to say right now and a
show to put on.
She stuck her head out the door and looked both ways. Still filled with parents and
the curtain would go up in ten minutes. She had to get to the back of the stage. Just
suck it up and walk proudly down the hall.
Oh boy!
She managed to slip in the front door of the gym and get backstage without having
to talk to anyone. The stagehands, all teacher’s aides and office staff, were just
as excited as the children. She peered out between the curtains and saw the students
were being seated, class by class, with the youngest at the front. The first class
to go on, Elvis Everett’s first grade, was lining up, ready to go on. She looked back
out front and spotted Sally-Jo, who gave her a thumbs-up and grinned.
Easy for her
.
At the appointed hour, Lizzie stepped up to the microphone and signaled for silence.
After several moments, everyone obeyed. She launched into her opening remarks and
then introduced the first class to thunderous applause.
Two hours later, even louder applause mingled with cheers signaled the finish of the
pageant, only ten minutes overtime. Lizzie felt totally exhausted. How could a two-hour
pageant feel more like eight hours? Children and parents mingled over juice and cookies
set up at the back of the gym and Lizzie made her escape. She quickly changed back
into her clothes and stuffed the costume in a bag to take home and launder. It would
be placed on Vanda’s desk first thing Monday morning.
She made her way through the teachers congratulating her and also the many humorous
remarks, to Vanda’s office. No sign of her.
Lizzie glanced around. No Sally-Jo, either. She made her way back to the gym and mingled
for a while, talking to parents and children, then she left. She had planned to do
some decorating before tonight’s special choir practice.
When she got home, she hauled the two large Rubbermaid containers out of the closet
in the office and struggled to bring them down the stairs. One problem: She didn’t
have a tree. But she could finish decorating the mantel and shelves.
Maybe tomorrow.
Supper would be a chicken spaghetti mix. She pulled the chicken breast out of the
freezer and nuked it while boiling the pasta. She found the pesto container and checked
the best-before date . . . it still was usable.
After supper she stuffed her music into the music bag and said good-bye to the cats.
On the drive over to the church, she did her usual warm-up, keeping the windows closed.
She hadn’t seen any of the choir members since the concert and was looking forward
to recapping with them. This special practice had become a routine part of their yearly
schedule. The choir offered to sing at the midnight Christmas Eve service as payment
for the use of the hall for rehearsals. Most members were able to make it, although
the odd few would be out of town with family or just unable to get away.
Lizzie loved the service and was happy to be part of it. It had quickly become part
of her Christmas ritual. She loved the music and the air of total joy and well-being
everyone felt when leaving the church.
Tonight, Stanton Giles was ready to go as soon as they all had taken their places.
“First of all, I’d like to thank you for a wonderful concert. I’ve had so many compliments
about this choir. You did an outstanding job.” He folded his hands as in prayer and
touched them to his forehead in thanks. “Now, this is a new mass but also not too
difficult, so between tonight’s practice and the extra one next Wednesday, I’m sure
there won’t be any problems with it. David Willcocks is known for his love of more
traditional choral anthems and I find this ties into the Christmas message. Let’s
start with a warm-up.”
They spent the hour and a half without a break and went through the mass several times,
learning their parts as sopranos and altos together, then as tenors and basses, then
all four voices together, as well as the anthem “Hymn to the Virgin” by Benjamin Britten.
As they left the church, Lucille Miller hooked her arm through Lizzie’s and walked
out to the parking lot with her. “I see you still have your police escort, dear. I
sure hope all the danger is long past.”
“Thanks, Lucille. I’m pretty sure it is. It’s just convincing the chief about it.”
“I’m sure. Speaking of the chief, how are Bob and Molly getting along?”
Lizzie bit her tongue. It wouldn’t do to tell Lucille to mind her own business or,
better yet, to ask Bob. “As a matter of fact, we had a book club meeting last night
and they were congenial, but then of course, that’s Bob for you. He’s friendly and
helpful to us all.”
“Hmm.”
“See you next Wednesday,” Lizzie said, grateful they’d reached her car. “Have a good
weekend.”
“Thank you, dear. And you, also. By the way, your discretion is admirable although
frustrating.”
Chapter Thirty-three
“So how do you want to do this?” he said.
THE PROFESSIONAL
—ROBERT B. PARKER
L
izzie looked out at the dreary sky on Saturday morning and wondered if she’d be caught
in a rainstorm while running. Oh well . . . she needed to wash her hair anyway.
She got dressed and raced the cats downstairs, taking time to give them each a little
attention before filling their food bowls. She changed the water and tied her shoes.
She went through her stretches, grabbed her cell phone and keys and stepped outside,
taking another look at the sky.
Officer Craig got out of the cruiser as Lizzie walked down the driveway. She was dressed
in running gear.
“I thought I could use some exercise,” Amber Craig said as Lizzie took in her outfit.
“That will give us a chance to talk, too.”
Lizzie glanced at her sharply but Craig was staring down the street. What did she
want to talk about? Hopefully she wasn’t going back to the questioning mode. Since
being shot at, Lizzie hadn’t been bothered by questions about Derek and her. Maybe
the grace period had ended. She hoped not.
They started toward town at a leisurely pace. After about three blocks, Lizzie glanced
over at her. “Are you ready to ramp it up?”
Craig nodded and grinned. They kept up a good pace for about forty minutes, taking
them through town, across the square and around the gigantic Christmas tree, along
Main Street and past the equally large Santa’s sleigh and reindeer parked outside
the entrance to Glendale Park. Lizzie led the reverse to her run earlier that week,
cut into the park, turned right on the first path and out to the pathway along the
river, then back toward home.
As they neared Pruitt Street, Lizzie slowed her pace and eventually they walked the
last block.
“That was good. I needed that,” said a slightly breathless Officer Craig. “Now, I
wanted to talk to you about tonight. You know it’s our staff Christmas party at the
Black Tomato restaurant? They have a nice-sized private banquet room and we can even
go out on the deck, if the weather’s warm enough.”
Lizzie nodded, wondering where this was leading. She knew all about the party plans,
and also knew it was officers only, no partners or spouses, although she was sure
there were several in that latter category who were pretty steamed about it.
“I’m inviting you.”
“What?” Lizzie almost tripped over her own feet.
“Not as my date. But you need to come to it so we can all be there. Otherwise, someone,
and it might turn out to be me because we’re drawing straws, will have to babysit
you and miss the dinner. Now, that’s just not fair, is it?”
“No. But you could all go and no one babysit me.”
“Not going to happen. The chief is still adamant you might be in danger.”
“Does he know about this conversation?”
“No. I’ll enlighten him once I have your agreement.”
“Well, no one will be happy, will they, if a civilian is there? I thought that was
what tonight was about. Only staff members so you could spend the evening discussing
police stuff as much as you like.”
“That’s the theory. But I think it’s time to change the pattern. We do nothing but
talk about police business all frigging day long, every day we’re on duty. Besides,
I have this guy I’d like to bring.”
“You have a boyfriend?”
“Of course. You sound surprised. I do have a private life, too, you know. And, I’d
like to get back to it.”
Lizzie was overjoyed; not that she believed anything was going on between Mark and
the officer, but she had thought Officer Craig had eyed Mark longingly now and again.
“I can’t imagine Mark being so rigid he wouldn’t change the format,” Lizzie said.
They’d reached her house and stood outside the cruiser talking.
“Oh, it’s not him. I’m sure he’d be happy to but it’s the Sarge and Yost. They’ve
been working there way too long, and not only are they set in their ways, I think
they take a perverse pleasure in telling their wives they can’t attend. So we all
go along with it.”
“I’d be the crack in the mold.”
“That, too,” Craig said with a big grin.
“Sure, why not!”
“That’s great. I’ll let the chief know and he can decide if we need the straws for
your escort.” She winked and unlocked the cruiser and got in. She rolled down the
window. “Do I have time to go home and change? You won’t skip out on me and you’ll
keep your curtains drawn?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well, go inside so I can say I saw you safely in.”
Lizzie laughed and went up the driveway. She glanced at her car. It had been left
unattended for a while but she was putting aside all those thoughts. No one was after
her. And, she was going out partying tonight.
She took her time in the shower, enjoying the hot, revitalizing spray, then dressed
for a morning that included grocery shopping and a new mystery book. She wondered
if she should ask Jensey again about knowing Derek. Was she really “julep”? It would
have to be a quick stop, though, because she planned to visit Molly in the afternoon.
This was the day Molly had originally been planning on hosting a large dinner party,
partly to celebrate what would have been the sixtieth year of her marriage to Claydon
had he but lived beyond the thirty-four years they had together. She’d abruptly changed
her mind about the party after learning of his secret. Lizzie thought Molly might
be in a deep funk today. She planned to pick up a bouquet of flowers and something
sinfully tasty to go with an afternoon tea, to bring over.
Even though the cats had been fed before her run, they followed her downstairs, hoping
for a handout of dried treats. They both wound around her legs while she fixed herself
a breakfast of poached egg on Kamut toast, and even after she’d indulged them, they
continued following her.
She grabbed two brushes and knelt down to try a two-handed session. Unfortunately,
Brie, on the left, got the feeble attempt. She spoke to them the entire time, filling
them in on her plans for the day, and asking for suggestions on what she should wear
to the party. Finally, they took more of an interest in each other than the brushes,
and eventually played a game of tag racing upstairs.
Lizzie washed up her dishes and grabbed her handbag and jacket. Officer Craig was
indeed back outside and Lizzie let her know of her day’s plans.
“You’re still up for tonight? . . . Haven’t backed out?” Craig asked before rolling
her window up.
“Absolutely. Just trying to decide what to wear.”
“It’s a dress up night but nothing formal. I can’t wait to see some of these guys
out of uniform and jeans, their second uniform. Enjoy your shopping.”
Lizzie nodded and went to get her car.
Her first stop was the Piggy Wiggly on Ulysses. The lot was about half full and she
parked close to the street so that the cruiser could see it without entering the lot.
She managed to get everything on her list within twenty minutes, stopping only once,
briefly, to chat with a neighbor.
Lizzie found a parking spot in front of the Book Bin. The cruiser had to park two
cars behind her. The bell over the door announced her entry and Jensey glanced up,
a look of surprise on her face.
Lizzie had been thinking about Jensey and her interest in Derek’s newest book. The
other women she put down to concern about the kiss-and-tell aspect. Of course, it
was most natural that Jensey as a bookstore owner would more than likely be interested
in something that could be another bestseller, especially since Derek had visited
Ashton Corners. Yet, it could mean something else entirely, if she was “julep.”
“Hi, Jensey. I’m in need of another mystery fix. Anything new in the last couple of
days that you’d recommend?”
Jensey cleared her throat and joined Lizzie at the front rack of new arrivals. “Well,
there’s this new Avery Aames. I think you’re reading her series, aren’t you?”
“Yes. This’ll be great, thanks.” She quickly selected three other books and took her
purchase to the counter. “By the way, I know you said you didn’t know that Derek Alton
had once lived in Ashton Corners.”
“Of course not. I’d have heard if a bestselling author had lived here. We all would.”
Her hand shook ever so slightly as she accepted the ten-dollar bill from Lizzie.
“That’s because he changed his name when he started getting published. Before, he
was Harvey Warren and he lived in town with his wife.”
Jensey looked a bit pale and her hand shook even more when she handed back her change,
but her voice was strong. “Doesn’t ring a bell. How odd to think he’d maybe shopped
at the same Piggly Wiggly or even gone to the same church. I surely didn’t recognize
his picture on the book jacket.”
Lizzie picked up her purchase. “Well, knowing that and having read
Judgment
, do you think it could have been set in Ashton Corners?”
“It wasn’t recognizable, if that’s the case. I think all writers must use a bit of
their lives in their books but it doesn’t mean everything is based on something truthful.”
Lizzie nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Well, thanks for the books. Have a busy
weekend.” The door opened and four customers walked in, as Lizzie waited to leave.
That didn’t get her any new information but it did get her a new book she’d been waiting
for. Lizzie wondered how long Jensey had owned the Book Bin and would she have been
as aware of the budding young author, Harvey Warren, if she didn’t own it at that
time? Or had she been lying through her teeth?
She glanced at the dashboard clock. She’d better get a move on if she wanted to spend
some time with Molly before preparing for the big night out. She glanced at the bouquet
lying on the backseat and took a deep breath inhaling the aroma of the freshly baked
cinnamon pecan twirls she’d picked up at LaBelle’s Bakery.
After a quick lunch and a change into some casual black pants, Lizzie drove to Molly’s.
She’d been right, she realized when Molly answered the door. It was a depressing day
for her.
Lizzie handed her the bouquet and gave her a big hug. “I thought we might have a tea
party this afternoon and talk, if you want to talk.”
Molly sniffed. “It’s thoughtful of you to remember, honey. I’ve been trying my darnedest
not to think about Claydon but it’s there just beneath the surface and I know it’s
got to be faced at some point. The tea is all made. So if you’ll just go and serve
it up along with these delicious-smelling twirls, I’ll find a vase for these beautiful
blooms. Thank you so much.” She gave Lizzie a quick kiss on her cheek.
Lizzie put two of the twirls on a china side plate and chose two tall crystal glasses
from the cupboards for the iced tea. She set them out on the kitchen table, along
with some colorful Christmas paper napkins, and sat waiting for Molly to return.
When she did come back, Molly held a tall glass vase and quickly cut and arranged
the flowers, placing the vase on the table, close to the window.
“They’re beautiful. It’s so nice to have fresh-cut flowers in these days of floral
arrangements everywhere you look. They really do well at Christmas. I’ll bet the cut
flowers don’t sell quite as quickly. They’re so available all year round and . . .”
She stopped talking and looked at Lizzie. “I had thought today I’d be celebrating
the years I’d had with Claydon, but instead, I’m still trying to reconcile the man
I thought I knew with the swindler he turned out to be.” She looked on the verge of
tears but held up her hand before Lizzie could answer.
“No, it’s all right. You were right. I do focus on the good years we had and the fact
that he did love me. It’s just the odd thing will set me off.” She took a sip of tea.
“Maybe I should have gone ahead with the dinner party after all. After all, I could
have worn my new cheongsam. It’s the most beautiful shade of blue.”
Lizzie smiled, much relieved to hear Molly talking herself out of the blues, even
though it did sound like she might be slipping back into exotic dress mode.
* * *
L
izzie couldn’t decide between the purple crepe with one shoulder bared or the black
jersey sheath. Fancy but not formal. They both fit the bill; in fact they were the
only pieces in her closet that would be suitable. But which one?
She grabbed the phone. When Paige answered, she said, “I need a quick fashion phone
consult.”
Paige laughed. “Oh goody. A date with Mark?”
“More like with the entire Ashton Corners Police Department.” She explained and then
described her two choices to Paige.
“You want something that will totally grab Mark’s attention, even if it means putting
your life at risk because he won’t be focused on protecting you. Are you still worried
about the shooter?”
“No. I’m sure that whatever that shot was about, it wasn’t about killing me. Even
with a police escort, it could have happened. If someone had been stalking me, the
opportunity had presented itself a few times.” She thought of her stubborn decision
to run through the park, even though it was a short distance. Totally foolhardy, but
she’d been determined not to let fear get the better of her.
“That is such a relief. So, go with the purple one-shoulder dazzler. There’s nothing
like a bare shoulder to hook a guy. He’ll be like butter. Especially if you wear those
pewter sandals with the three-inch heel you splurged on last time we went therapy
shopping.”
“The purple and pewter it is. And what do you have planned for tonight?”
“We have a babysitter on tap and we’re going out to a house party just down the street.
It should be an early evening but it’ll be fun to get dressed up for a change and
even, dare I say, go out without the girls.”
“Well, be sure to wear something that will totally grab Brad’s attention.”
Paige laughed. “You give good advice. Give me a call tomorrow . . . I want a complete
report, please.”