Murder in March

by Camilla Chafer

  We crossed the lobby to the doors and before I realized I had no idea why we were walking outside, we were already through the doors and standing on the path. "That was interesting," said Mark. "You dived into those questions like a true professional."

  "Unfortunately, it wasn't any help. Janey couldn't have been clearer in describing how lax security is here… Anyone could have walked in!"

  "So Esther’s killer could still be anyone?"

  I hated to say it, but I did anyway. "Unfortunately, yes."

  Chapter Eight

  We stood quietly for a moment; then I remembered I had no idea why we walked outside with such purpose. "Are you supposed to be working?" I asked Mark, but my thoughts were still on Main Street. Why had Esther gone there after clearly announcing her dislike of my town? Did she need something? Or was she meeting someone? Some unidentified person who could have turned out to be her killer?

  He shook his head. "I'm taking the day off. Too much trauma."

  I peered at him. His eyes looked clear and white although he did seem a little tired. His beard was neatly trimmed and his clothes were fresh and obviously ironed. "You don't look very traumatized," I pointed out.

  "I'm shocked, and I can't concentrate," he admitted. "I didn't sleep a lot last night because I kept thinking about Esther. I can't make phone calls and dash off emails like nothing happened, and she wasn't murdered just yesterday. What about you? Don't you have a book to edit for me?"

  "I do. I got as far as opening my laptop this morning when Detective Logan turned up."

  "You got further along in your work day than I did. I'm sure we can adjust the schedule, given what happened. My firm will understand."

  "I would appreciate that, thank you. There're a lot of edits still to go through."

  "Esther made some noise about that." Mark raised his eyebrows, and I suspected he really meant a lot of noise.

  "Did you happen to hear the words 'total' or 'rewrite'?"

  Mark smiled. "Something like that. Don't worry about it now. Like I said, we'll work out an extension. I've yet to read Esther's notes but they might not be as bad as you seem to think. We can work together on this."

  "Thanks again." I paused, but I couldn't think about my book. Instead, my thoughts returned to Esther. "You know, I'd really like to know exactly where Esther went, and whom she was speaking to yesterday in the stairwell."

  "I suggest we take a walk so I can clear my head first. Then we can discuss how we're going to find that out. I didn't see a lot of the town yesterday because I worked all day, and after it got dark, there was that matter of the tire that needed changing. Plus, I think we need to speak to the night staff and they're not here right now."

  "We should discuss what we need to ask them."

  "Maybe Janey could help out with some of the introductions?" Mark suggested.

  "You should ask her. Let's go this way," I said, trying to ignore the little stab of envy I felt at the idea of Mark and Janey conversing privately. I had to brush it off. Mark was being so considerate, given the shock we both had, and although it was nice to have his company, I had to remember that technically, he was now my boss. Getting too personal would not only be unprofessional but also potentially embarrassing for me. Especially if he were purely being nice. He hadn't suggested otherwise. Why should he? We barely knew each other! And as Mark said, we would be working together for some time. Plus, our colleague had just been murdered. Now was not the time to contemplate romance! "We can walk to Main Street in ten minutes," I said hastily. "Perhaps someone saw Esther when she went out yesterday? She might have been meeting with someone outside the hotel."

  "Lead on," said Mark. "And tell me about yourself on the way."

  I hesitated. Where did a person start after a comment like that? With the “dark and stormy night” on which I was born (I wasn't), or something more recent? Should I tell him I owned a fluffy cat named after a female spy, Purdey, from a vintage British TV series? Or that I dreamed of traveling to exotic places I’d only seen in my myriad of travel magazines and books?

  "What do you want to know?" I asked.

  "Let’s start with your house."

  That surprised me. I expected him to ask me about work; or where I got my ideas from; or did I have a proposal for the next book; or how I planned to revise the latest release using the edits. Esther rarely asked me anything personal. "I've owned it for the past eight years," I replied. "When I bought it, it needed some work and I've been steadily renovating it. I'm almost finished now that all the major remodeling and upgrades have been done. I grew up in Calendar and always liked the rows of Victorian houses; so when I earned enough money, I decided to buy one."

  "Does your family live nearby?"

  "My mom lives near the park, not too far from my house, with her husband, Tom. My dad owns an outdoor equipment and camping store off Main Street and he lives in the apartment above it. He also has a house on the other side of town but he doesn't live there right now. I have three older brothers. Two live in town and one is currently out-of-state."

  "Three older brothers? Wow. That must have been pretty loud growing up."

  "Loud and very active. All three were on the varsity football team." I laughed at a memory. "I always found it charming that we had mismatched plates and bowls, but Mom told me she only got a nice dinner service after the boys moved out and stopped breaking her stuff with their gangly limbs. She and I selected the prettiest, most feminine, pink plates with little butterflies and flowers painted on them. We did it when they were all off at college. She still uses them."

  "What does your stepdad think of them?"

  "My brothers? Or the plates?" I asked.

  "The plates!"

  "Oh, he likes whatever my mom likes. He's very macho until it comes to my mom. Then he's a soppy fool. They're very happy together." We paused at the curb and waited for a minivan to pass before we crossed. I shook my hair, enjoying the gentle breeze as we walked.

  "What about your dad? Is he remarried?"

  "He was for a while to a lovely lady. She died two years ago. That's why he lives in the apartment above the store. The house reminds him too much of my stepmom."

  "I'm sorry."

  I thought about how happy she made my dad, and how kind she was before I replied, "Me too."

  "So you're a home-grown Calendar girl? You ever think about leaving here?" asked Mark.

  "I used to," I said, recalling all the magazine cut-outs of distant, exotic locations I collected as a teen "—but I never really knew where to go. For a long time, I didn't have the money to travel. And when I did have the money, I was too busy working to travel. Besides, I never really wanted to travel alone."

  "Traveling alone can be fun," said Mark. "There's no compromising and no schedules to adjust."

  "Do you enjoy your business trips?"

  "Sometimes. It's always nice seeing a new city and meeting new people, but I don't get the chance to sightsee very often. I am an unashamed tourist. It's very pretty here," he added, indicating the big trees hugging the road and the large, elegant houses that welcomed us with their attractive curb appeal.

  I glanced up at him. He seemed so relaxed and worldly I thought he was the type who would know where the tiny, tucked-away bistros that only the locals knew about were located, and he’d only drink unusual wines and eat native foods. "Really?" I asked, surprised that my assessment was so off the mark.

  "Sure. Going off the beaten track is for other people. I want to see all the famous things that most people only get to see in pictures. You're right that it doesn't sound like a lot of fun by itself, but it can be. I used to vacation quite often with a couple of guy buddies. Both are engaged now and three's a crowd, but we enjoyed the beach, surfing, and beer guzzling vacations, not so much the cultured, historical ones," he added with a smile.

  "Like Spring Break?" I wondered.

  "Spring Break but with nicer hotels, the ones that have organic ale and a turn-down service. Boys' holiday
s for grown-ups. Sometimes we skied too."

  "You missed ski season here." I pointed to the mountains in the distance, beyond the town. They were still snow-capped but the slopes were already closed for the season thanks to the deluge of rain that arrived earlier than expected. "Come back in the winter months and you can ski all you want. There are cabins closer to the slopes if you prefer that to a hotel, and some of them are very luxurious. If you forget your ski gear, just see my dad. He could sell snow to the penguins."

  "Do you ski?"

  "Yes, I do."

  "Maybe you can show me the best runs when I come back?"

  Something in my stomach tingled. I would probably still be working with Mark this winter and that would mean one of us would have to visit the other. A brief fantasy of sipping hot chocolate in front of a cozy, log fire as we warmed up after a day on skis flashed through my mind. "You're on," I said before I lost my nerve. "But you have to keep up with me!"

  "Oh, a little competition? Now we're talking," Mark teased. "Don’t worry, I will bring my 'A' game."

  "It will be your best work trip yet," I promised him. It could have been my imagination, but his face seemed to fall, just a little bit, before he nodded.

  "Yeah, work," he said. "This trip has been tough to beat so far."

  "I'm sorry. I know it wasn't what either of us expected."

  His forehead furrowed slightly. "What did you expect?"

  "I don't know. Definitely not you," I added, looking at him again while his attention remained fixed on the houses we walked past. He was a lot different to what I imagined. I thought he'd be more dour, and older too. I never expected him to be so handsome or stylish in a manly, polished way. I thought he'd be more like Esther in his personality, and not so easy to get along with. Instead of wanting to lock myself in my house at the idea of another meeting with him, I actually looked forward to it. I liked the possibility of him returning to go skiing together too. Except, he'd called it a work trip. That was slightly disappointing.

  "If not me, then what?" he pressed.

  "Someone less... nice," I finally settled on. I could hardly say what I was really thinking. Handsome. Charming. Engaging.

  Mark smiled, apparently pleased. "You think I'm nice?"

  "So far." I raised my eyebrows, giving him a look of mock warning.

  "I'll take that as a compliment. You know, I didn't expect you either."

  "Oh?" It never occurred to me that Mark might have had any preconceptions about me. "I got the impression you were a lot older and duller..."

  "Esther?" I wondered with a roll of my eyes.

  "Yes. But, you must be younger than me, and that long, red hair makes you stand out in any room."

  "Oh." I winced. One thing I always tried to do was blend in. My long, red hair rarely made that possible.

  "And you're beautiful and smart."

  "Oh!" I brightened at the unexpected compliments.

  "And you are also very loyal, which I like. I know Esther was a total pain to work with, but you respected her and refuse to let someone get away with what they did to her. That shows inner strength of character."

  "You're trying to solve this murder too," I pointed out.

  "Two heads are better than one," said Mark.

  We reached Main Street without my realizing it. I was so involved in our conversation that I walked automatically until we paused at the corner, looking beyond the road to the town square and further. Very soon, the whole town would begin to put out their tubs and baskets of spring flowering plants and all the trees dotting the sidewalks would blossom with buds and color.

  "Can you think why Esther might have come into town?" I asked, wondering if Esther had mentioned any reason for such an excursion.

  "Snacks? Souvenirs? Ran out of people to reprimand at the hotel?"

  I suppressed a giggle as I nudged him playfully. "What about magazines or newspapers or just a coffee?" I asked.

  "She could get newspapers and coffee at the hotel. You've known her a long time. What would she insist on traveling with? Or maybe running out of?"

  "I have no idea." Moisturizer and snacks were never part of our conversation, unless Esther was boasting about something. "This is the first time she ever came to Calendar."

  "Really? How come? You've worked together for years."

  "Esther insisted I meet her in New York because there was always something else to do while I was there. Like signing contracts, or autograph books, or going through proposals. You know, the usual stuff."

  "No, I meant, why did she come here this time?"

  "To talk me out of my choice to retire Miranda Marchmont."

  Mark regarded me carefully. "Did she?"

  "I thought she would try to persuade me at lunch, and when she didn't, I naturally assumed that's why she wanted to meet me last night. Isn't that why she brought you along with her? As backup?"

  "She mentioned something about that, but I told her that I always wanted to meet the elusive Miranda Marchmont too."

  "And here we are. Neither what the other expected." I smiled and Mark returned it with a warm one of his own.

  "We could check every store just to see if anyone remembers seeing Esther," he said, changing the topic before it got too awkward.

  "There are dozens of stores." I looked around. "We can probably eliminate some of them. I doubt she would go into any of the sporting goods stores. Probably not the restaurants either since we know she ate at the hotel. Did she also have lunch there?"

  "I'm not sure. What about the gift shop or the candy store? Could she have printed something at the print shop?"

  "Isn't there a small room for businesses to use the printers at the hotel? The other places sound plausible if she wanted to pick something up to take back home; plus, Esther did have a sweet tooth."

  "Let's try all of them." Mark took off and I had to hurry a few steps to catch up before I fell into pace with him.

  We tried the gift shops but no one remembered Esther, not even from my vivid description of her big spectacles, jet-black, bobbed hair and loud clothing. I tried the candy store too, but all that resulted in was me buying a bag of yummy candy and no leads.

  "These are amazing," said Mark after I offered him the striped paper bag.

  "The owner makes everything herself," I told him. "I could easily become hooked."

  "Me too. Is that a bookstore?" Mark pointed.

  "Mm-hmm."

  "That's like nectar to an agent. She might have gone in there if only to check up on your book sales."

  "There is a window display dedicated to my novels," I told him as we walked over to the bookshop and Mark paused at the sight of it. He pointed at it before giving me two thumbs up. I waved his hands down. "No one knows she's me, remember?" I said, dropping my voice to a whisper. Not that anyone nearby was paying attention or even close enough to overhear us.

  Mark dropped his thumbs and nodded. I stepped past him and pushed open the door, waving when I saw Holly. She put down the books she was stacking on the rolling table and came over.

  "Hey," she said cheerfully. "Nice to see you again, Ava."

  "You too, Holly," I replied as I looked around and blinked. A whole table near the front of the store had been dedicated solely to Miranda Marchmont books.

  "I had the strangest day yesterday," said Holly, following my gaze to the table. "A woman came in, an out-of-towner, and she made such a big fuss about moving all the Miranda Marchmont romances near the front of the store. She also said I should probably order more of them since Miranda is a local."

  "A local?" I stammered. I could have bet a hundred bucks on who the out-of-towner was.

  Holly nodded enthusiastically. "Apparently, she lives right here in town! Did you know that? I called my grandfather and he said he knew nothing about any author living here, but this woman insisted it was true."

  "Maybe she was making it up," I said. I was unsure whether to be annoyed that Esther most certainly had to have given away the huge
hint, or pleased that we struck a lead. Holly had not only seen but also spoken to Esther!

  "I don't think so. She gave me her card. Esther Drummond. I looked her up this morning and she really is Miranda Marchmont's agent. A bonafide literary agent! I never met an agent before. Isn't it amazing that such a famous author could be hiding away here?"

  "Very," said Mark. He widened his eyes at me over Holly's head but all I could do was answer with a shrug and a frown.

  "Oh, hi. You must be Ava's boyfriend," said Holly, suddenly noticing him. She stuck out her hand and Mark shook it, smiling again.

  "No, we're just coll..."

  "College buddies," I finished for him before he could say colleagues and invite anymore questions. "He's visiting for a few days." Mark gave me a quizzical look before he fell silent.

  "I tried to call Ms. Drummond but her phone went straight to voicemail. I thought she could get Miranda Marchmont to do a signing, you know, if she really is a town local. Everyone would be so excited!"

  "I heard she doesn't do publicity gigs, but I like the display all the same. This is a great bookstore. They don't make them like this anymore," said Mark. He stepped further into the store, looking around and taking in all the details that were preserved from when the building was first built. A few stores had tossed the intricate crown moldings but many, like this one, still retained them. I thought it was charming. "Was this woman tall and very loud?" he asked.

  "Yes! Do you know her?"

  "She was staying at my hotel."

  "Was? You mean she left? Oh, no! I thought she'd want to see the display table I just finished setting up on her advice." Holly's face fell.

  "I'm sure she would have loved it," I said, trying to ignore the guilty twinge I felt at lying to her. I ran my fingers over the glossy covers of the novels stacked five deep. "It's great. I think you must have every book Miranda Marchmont ever wrote."

  "And I ordered more copies of her new book too!"

  The door opened and the three of us turned just in time to see Detective Logan stepping through. He gave Mark and me a curious look before shutting the door behind him and flashing his badge at Holly, asking her, "Are you the proprietor?"