Gavin stood and strode back to the helm. “That’s not my plan. I don’t want to involve Ophelia Sandburg if I can help it. Ellis-White might think she’s a threat, but I don’t want to use her that way.” He cast me a reassuring smile. “I asked that my colleagues try getting the hired killer to identify him first, and only use Ophelia as an absolute last resort.”
“I find it curious that you have the power to request that,” I said, eyeing him with interest.
“I have a little clout.” Gavin grinned. “Just a little, but it’s enough in this case.”
I rose to my feet and crossed to stand beside him. “I appreciate your kindness, and if she knew, I’m sure Ophelia would too.”
Gavin frowned. “Don’t be fooled—I’m not always so nice. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must weigh anchor so we can return to Beaufort.”
After he returned to the helm and fired up the engines, I fixed Gavin with an inquisitive stare. “I have to admit I’m still surprised that you don’t want Ophelia to identify Leo Evans, or I suppose I should say Ellis-White. That would seem to give you more leverage over him in the long run.”
Gavin maneuvered the boat into a turn, pointing it back the way we’d come. “Again, let’s just say that I dislike involving civilians in these matters.”
“You’re involving me,” I said, my gaze wandering back to the glittering expanse of water before us.
“True. I suppose I should examine my reasons for doing that more closely.” Gavin tapped the wheel with his fingers, drawing my attention back to his face. “Perhaps it’s because I feel you’re something of an ad hoc colleague. You did turn over Isabella Harrington’s coded journal and have kept your mouth shut about it. Among other things.”
“I was protecting my great-aunt and Ellen,” I said, shifting my weight from foot to foot. “I don’t know if that proves my ability to keep a secret or my loyalty.”
“Both, I think.” Gavin cast me an appraising look. “Which isn’t a bad combination, in my line of work.”
I met his gaze with a lift of my chin. “Are you trying to recruit me?”
“I thought Ellen had already done that.”
“No, she’s pretty tight-lipped about anything involving intelligence work. She only told me about my great-aunt because I’d stumbled upon that coded journal and a few other things. I guess she decided it was better that I know the truth so I didn’t spill any secrets inadvertently.” I brushed back my hair with one hand. “She’s involved me in sleuthing local murder cases, both last year and now, but that’s a different matter.”
“I see. And no, I won’t try to recruit you into any serious intelligence operations, even though I think you might make an excellent spy.” Gavin flashed me a bright smile.
I shook my head, refusing to be charmed. “You should tell Ellen what you’ve just told me. About Ophelia being in danger and you protecting her, I mean. I think she suspects you have more nefarious intentions.”
“I’m sure she does, which is fair,” Gavin said dryly. “To be honest, I didn’t tell her upfront because I was suspicious of her motives. I knew what she and Isabella had done, using an innocent young woman as an unknowing informant all those years ago. I wasn’t sure she truly cared for Ms. Sandburg, and I didn’t want to risk her tipping off the wrong people.”
“Ellen would never do anything that would harm Ophelia,” I said, bristling.
“Maybe not now. But she had no compunction about putting her in harm’s way in the past. So I had to be sure.”
I opened my mouth and shut it again as I considered his words. Gavin obviously hadn’t known Ellen personally before this mission. All he knew was what he’d read in agency records. “Which is why you decided to stay with her instead of on the boat,” I said at last.
“Correct. I needed to take her measure; to see if I could trust her.”
“What have you decided?”
Gavin turned his head to look me in the eye. “That while her behavior in the past might’ve been rash and reckless, she is no longer that ambitious young officer. From what I’ve observed, I would say that she’d now do everything in her power to protect Ophelia Sandburg.”
“I believe she would. You should talk to her. Perhaps she can help with your mission.”
“Which is nearly over. But yes, I will speak with her as soon as we get back. Thanks,” Gavin added, with another swift smile. “That was the other reason I asked you on this little boat trip—to determine if your opinion of Ellen Montgomery matched my own observations.”
“Not a friendly overture, then?”
“I didn’t say that.” Gavin lifted one hand off the wheel and reached out, but before he clasped my forearm, he asked, “May I?”
I nodded, and he gave my arm a gentle squeeze.
“You’d be surprised how rare it is for me to spend any time with an attractive and intelligent woman who isn’t a colleague or part of my … research,” he said, lifting his fingers.
“The lonely life of a spy,” I said lightly, pulling my arm closer to my side.
Gavin arched his eyebrows. “Not what I call myself. Sounds too much like something out of a James Bond film. And trust me, my life is nothing like that.”
“But you are alone.” I stepped away, moving closer to the side bench and windows.
“As are you, from what I hear.”
I shot him a sharp glance over my shoulder. “I suppose that means you’ve dug into my past?”
“Of course. I had to know who I was dealing with.” Gavin motioned toward the bow. “We’re going to be rounding the island soon, and since there are sandbars and shoals. I’d better stay on my toes.”
“In other words, you don’t want to discuss what you know about my life?”
Gavin side-eyed me. “I know about your late husband, if that’s what you’re wondering. But this isn’t the time and place to talk about that tragedy.”
“There’s no time and place for that, ever,” I said, slumping down on the bench seat. “At least not with a virtual stranger.”
Gavin lifted his hands. “Forgive me, I didn’t realize your feelings were still so raw.”
“It’s only been four years.” I pressed my back into the paneling behind me. “You may think that’s long enough to grieve. A lot of people do. But”—I swore silently as my voice cracked—“it really isn’t any time at all. Not when you loved someone so much …” I choked back a sob, determined not to cry in front of this man.
Gavin didn’t say anything in response. He kept his eyes focused on the view in front of us, guiding the boat through Taylor’s Creek and back into the Beaufort harbor.
I followed him out to the stern deck after he docked at his slip and securely moored us to the cleats on the wharf. I had to admit that his skill handling the lines and everything else impressed me.
As Gavin helped me onto the deck, my foot slipped, and he placed his hands on my waist to steady me. Which was the proper thing to do, of course. But then his fingers lingered for a moment and he looked me up and down with an expression that sent a little jolt of electricity down the back of my neck.
No, you can’t let this happen, I thought, as I pulled away and stepped back.
“Thank you for the information,” I said. “And the boat ride. I just want to be clear that I’m not looking for …”
“A relationship?” Gavin offered me a wan smile. “Don’t worry. Not something I really do. And as I said, I know a little bit about you, including your love for your admittedly heroic late husband. Besides, once I get the all clear, I’ll be leaving Beaufort.”
“Oh, right. Your mission is almost complete.” I fixed him with an intent gaze. “Don’t forget to talk to Ellen, though, before you go anywhere. I think you owe her that, even if you don’t approve of her past actions.”
“I will. I’ll even shake on it.” Gavin held out his hand, but when I gripped his fingers, he clasped mine for a moment instead of giving them a shake. “Be careful, Charlotte. I know you’re work
ing with Ellen to investigate the Lisette Bradford case. I worry you both might be in over your heads.”
“We are sharing anything we discover with the police,” I said, freeing my hand from his grasp. “Besides, Ellen is quite skillful in negotiating a crisis.”
“She’s still an older woman, and all her smarts won’t stop a bullet,” Gavin said, holding up his hands in surrender. “All right, I won’t say anything else about it. But if you do run into trouble, and I’m still in town …”
“Don’t worry. You won’t be called on to play knight errant and ride to our rescue,” I said.
“Pity. I rather like horses.” Gavin slipped on his sunglasses.
Once again, I couldn’t see his eyes. But there was something in his expression that told me he was amused.
Which was, I had to confess, irritating and intriguing in equal measure.
Chapter Nineteen
By the time I returned to Chapters that afternoon, I had to rush to finish several tasks I’d planned to complete sooner, like confirming the menus for Friday’s events with Alicia and Damian.
I got Damian on the office speaker phone while Alicia sat in my chair and propped her feet on the desk. “What?” she said, when I raised my eyebrows. “I think I’m owed a little rest, especially since I had to pull double duty today when you disappeared for hours on end.”
“Fair enough,” I said, before greeting Damian. With Alicia tossing in some choice comments, I quizzed him on his plans for snacks and hors d’oeuvres for both the tea and the cocktail party scheduled for the following day.
“I can manage the sweets,” Alicia said, when Damian expressed concern over the idea of petit fours. “You just whip up all the little sandwiches and other finger foods and handle the drinks and we’ll be good to go.”
“I’ll help too,” I said, earning a snort from Alicia. “Seriously, don’t base anything on today. I just ran into an unplanned distraction. I promise I won’t even leave the house tomorrow, unless we need something from the market.”
“Whatever. As long as you play hostess, I won’t complain,” Alicia said. “I don’t mind the other work, but don’t expect me to entertain anyone.”
“You really think Charlotte would ever expect that?” Damian’s voice was filled with good humor.
“Just make sure you get here on time,” Alicia replied in a frosty tone.
But her lips twitched into a smile when Damian said, “Good things are worth the wait.”
With the menus set for both of Friday’s events, and arrangements for how Alicia and I planned to tackle the necessary cleaning confirmed, I decided to retreat to my room. Friday was going to be a marathon. Before that tsunami of activity, I wanted a little time to process the information I’d gathered earlier in the day.
Just as I sat on my bed with my laptop, my cell phone rang. I sighed and set the computer aside to answer the call.
“Hello, Ms. Reed, just thought I’d give you an update,” Detective Johnson said.
“Good news, I hope.”
“Not bad, anyway. We do have Billy Bradford in custody, of course. The trespassing and threatening behavior actually were a help, since we don’t have enough evidence yet to hold him on murder charges.”
“But this way you can keep him off the street while you question him further. That’s definitely a positive,” I said. “What about Roger Warren? Billy claimed he saw him arguing with Lisette down by the harbor on Saturday night.”
“Oh yes, Billy’s been telling us all about that, and we have the statements concerning his comments from you, Ms. Rivera, and Mr. Kepler as well. We did bring Dr. Warren in for questioning today, but again, we can only detain him so long without more evidence.”
“Does that mean this is another warning call?” I asked, focusing on Brent’s smile in the photo on the opposite wall.
“It is, but I wouldn’t be too concerned. We’ll keep tabs on Dr. Warren when we release him. I just wanted to give you a heads-up in case he slips past our surveillance and decides to stop by Chapters for a chat.”
“Chat, huh? You’ve met the man, right?”
“He does have a short fuse, but”—the detective softened her tone—“I’m not convinced he had anything to do with the murder. We’ve checked out his alibi for the rest of the evening, after he said he left Ms. Bradford quite alive at the docks, and he apparently did have car trouble. The service company confirmed it.”
“Unless he didn’t leave her alive …”
“Exactly. There’s that short span of time that’s unaccounted for, so we need to follow up with anyone, in addition to Mr. Bradford, who might have seen him near the waterfront on Saturday evening.”
“Or who saw Billy Bradford, I suppose.”
“We’re checking into all of that with people who were in the general area, and examining any CCTV camera footage from businesses in the area as well.”
“Do you still want Ellen Montgomery and me to collect any information we can gather at the two parties I’m hosting tomorrow? All of the current or recent guests will be in attendance at one or the other.”
“Definitely. Anything that sounds interesting, let me know right away.”
“I will.” I stared at my phone for a moment as another thought occurred to me. “Have you cleared anyone to leave town? I’d like to know, just in case one of the guests decides to make a sudden exit.”
“They can actually all leave, if they want. With Bradford in custody, and our eyes on Dr. Warren, I think we have the most likely suspects in our sights. Of course, the others have been warned that they must remain available for future questioning, if needed, but if your lodgers want to leave town, we have no legal reason to force them to stay.”
“Not even Tony Lott?” I asked. “I told you about that incident in the Old Burying Ground and his possible motive for harming Lisette.”
“We’re following a lead that may give Lott a solid alibi, so I think we have to give him the benefit of the doubt at the moment. Not to say we won’t keep him on our suspect list, but right now he’s not our top candidate.” Detective Johnson coughed, then apologized before continuing. “Darn allergies.”
“They can be tough,” I said sympathetically. “All right, we’ll proceed as if the culprit is in custody, but Ellen and I will still do a little sleuthing during tomorrow’s parties.”
“Thanks, that will be helpful. I don’t have the resources to have anyone infiltrate events at Chapters and anyway, I’m afraid my officers would stand out like the beacon of a lighthouse, whereas Ellen Montgomery …”
“Can be your unobtrusive super spy?” I chuckled. “Good use of what you have at hand, I’d say, Detective.”
“I am practical to a fault. Or so I’m told,” Detective Johnson said, before wishing me a good evening and hanging up.
I rearranged my pillows behind my back and pulled my computer onto my lap. While I had a few minutes to myself, I thought I’d do a little more internet searching into the more esoteric aspects of the case.
After falling down the rabbit hole that opened when I dug deeper into the information on Lisette Bradford’s Amanda Nobel fan club, I paused for a moment to clear my head. Glancing over at the still-to-be-read books stacked on my nightstand, the ARC of Amanda’s upcoming book caught my eye. Written by Lisette, I thought. Sad that she got a chance at publication only to be killed before that book came out, and without ever getting her name on a cover.
Turning my focus back onto the online information, I noticed a link in one comment that I’d overlooked before. Clicking through, I was intrigued when it actually led to an in-depth examination of the similarities between one of Amethyst Angel’s stories and a popular piece of fan fiction written by Lisette.
The writer of the blog post compared the two stories in detail, offering a side-by-side analysis. Reading through both texts surprised me—it turned out to be a damning indictment of Lisette Bradford. The similarities were far too close to be mere coincidence. Lisette’s story even i
ncluded passages identical to those written by Amethyst Angel, give or take a word or two. The author of the article also offered time-stamped evidence that Amethyst Angel’s piece had been published at least six months before Lisette’s similar story.
“Definitely plagiarism,” I told Brent, who smiled back from his portrait with his well-remembered charm.
I knit my brows and once again considered the possibility that Molly Zeleski had written fan fiction under the Amethyst Angel pen name. That would certainly explain her vigorous defense of that author’s work, as well as her disdain for Lisette Bradford. But I was still unsure that such behavior on Lisette’s part, no matter how unethical, was enough to drive someone to murder. Especially since it had been some time since the plagiarism charges had flared up.
But what if there was a more recent wound … I glanced again at the pile of books on my nightstand. Stealing someone’s work was always despicable. Still, in the fan fiction world, that didn’t typically translate into a loss of income. But Lisette Bradford had received a payment of some kind for ghostwriting book thirteen in the Tides series. Whether a lot or a little, it was still money. She’d also garnered a professional writing credit, probably with promises of more to come.
“Think about it—if what Amanda told you is right, Lisette used Tony to get her name in front of Amanda’s publisher. Then she was probably hired primarily on the basis of that one fan fiction story,” I told Brent’s picture. “It was apparently extremely popular, and may have convinced the editorial board that Lisette had the skill to write the next Tides book. Unfortunately, what they didn’t know was that it wasn’t Lisette’s original creation. She’d stolen the concept, and much of the language, from someone else.”
I frowned. Lisette hadn’t just taken away another author’s source of pride and accomplishment. Although those were important things, they paled in comparison to the betrayal and anger Amethyst Angel would undoubtedly have felt if they’d learned that Lisette had also financially profited from her appropriated creation.
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