Reserved for Murder

by Victoria Gilbert

  Ellen casually crossed one leg over the other and examined her painted toenails. “But do you think an author is ever pressured to acknowledge the ghostwriter in some way, like with a coauthor credit?”

  Ellen lifted her head in time to connect with Amanda’s astonished gaze, while Molly gasped and Harper spat a swallow of tea back into her cup.

  “What a peculiar question, Ellen,” Julie said. “Don’t feel compelled to answer, Amanda.”

  Amanda swept back her golden fall of hair with both hands. “I’m fine. And as for that query, Ms. Montgomery, I’m not sure what I’d do in such a situation. I’m just glad that I’ll never have to deal with that sort of dilemma.”

  She turned to Julie, asking about current sales in various genres and anticipated trends in the book market, while I shared a glance with Ellen.

  I felt I could almost hear what my sleuthing partner was thinking. If it was along the lines of my own thoughts, it would be something like: If Lisette had something on Amanda, could she have been using that to force Amanda to acknowledge her contribution to the new Tides book? What if Amanda had grown tired of this blackmail and snapped?

  Ellen met my gaze with a tilt of her head toward Amanda.

  The author, chatting cheerfully with the others, seemed oblivious to our sudden lack of participation in the conversation, but after answering one of Molly’s questions, she shot Ellen and me a look that betrayed her awareness of our intent.

  She’s on to us, I thought.

  Ellen rose to her feet. “More tea, anyone?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The tea party continued for another thirty minutes without incident, but as soon as the guests dispersed—Julie to her bookstore, Amanda to her room, and Molly and Harper out to do a little shopping in local boutiques—I huddled with Ellen to discuss our thoughts.

  “Amanda reacted strongly to your mention of a ghostwriter forcing an author’s hand,” I said. “I think we both came to the conclusion that perhaps that was what Lisette was trying to do to her. Maybe she wanted Amanda to ask her publisher to offer a coauthor credit?”

  “That thought did cross my mind, although of course we don’t have any proof. But my comment did affect her, which is a clue.” Ellen poured a glass of lemonade.

  “Could’ve led to an argument,” I said, as I gathered up used teaspoons and placed them on a serving tray.

  “Which could have led to an unplanned murder.” Ellen swirled the lemonade in her goblet. “What about the two younger women? They both appeared edgy to me as well.”

  I stacked a few plates next to the spoons. “I agree. But maybe we’d better talk about this in more detail later,” I said, nodding my head toward the door, where Alicia had appeared, gripping a large metal tray lined with a kitchen towel.

  “Leave all that. I’ll get it,” she said, as she hurried into the parlor.

  I backed away from the sideboard. “No problem, I just thought I’d help.”

  Alicia audibly sniffed. “I know how to best stack things so the china doesn’t get broken.” She glanced at me, her stern expression softening. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure you’d like to get a little rest before you have to play hostess at tonight’s cocktail party. Damian and I can take care of this.”

  I murmured my thanks before glancing around the parlor to make sure none of the guests had left any valuables behind.

  “Well, I have to be running along,” Ellen said, as she grabbed her large straw purse from the floor beside her chair. “I probably should write a few notes before I freshen up for the next event.” She gave me a wink. “It’s a never-ending party around here, it seems.”

  As Alicia told her goodbye, I realized she probably thought Ellen meant she’d be writing thank you notes or some other type of genteel correspondence. Not notes on a criminal case, I thought, with a smile. I told Ellen I looked forward to seeing her later as I followed her out into the hall.

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can find a better time, and a quieter spot, to compare our theories at the cocktail party,” she said, before heading out the front door.

  I walked back to my bedroom, so distracted that I almost bumped into Damian, who was coming out of the kitchen with a trash bag in his hand.

  “Clean up number one today,” he said, waving the empty bag. “Glad you’re making this worth my while, Charlotte.”

  “Oh right, I did promise you a bonus.” I looked him over. “I think you deserve it, dealing with two parties on the same day.”

  “I think so too, but not all my employers are as generous.” Damian grinned. “Which is why I prefer to work for you whenever possible.”

  “Good for you, but also good for me,” I replied with an answering smile.

  I spent the remainder of the afternoon resting in my room and trying to focus on my le Carré book. But I couldn’t concentrate—the bits of information I’d accumulated concerning the Lisette Bradford murder swirled around in my mind like the colorful shards in a kaleidoscope. I finally gave up and just rested for a half hour before freshening up for the next party.

  On a whim, I changed into a full-skirted sundress I hadn’t worn since Brent had died. Glancing in the mirror, I noticed how its tropical floral pattern gleamed against my pale shoulders. I look a little too much like I’m going out on a date rather than playing hostess, I thought, with a frown. Perhaps I should wear a wrap. But I ultimately decided against it. It was hot, and the sundress was cool and comfortable. Besides, wraps could become a bother, always slipping down and needing readjustment. Not to mention that this was the farewell party capping off a decidedly atypical week at Chapters. Who cared what I looked like?

  But Alicia did shoot me a raised eyebrow glance when I stepped into the kitchen to check on the final preparations for the cocktail party.

  “La-di-dah,” she said as she tweaked the cotton lace edging the top of her full-length white apron. “Aren’t we daring tonight.”

  I made a face as I studied the tray of hors d’oeuvres she’d placed on the kitchen island. “I was just tired of being too hot at these things.”

  “Well, you look very hot to me,” Damian said, as he placed a bottle of rum into a wire mesh basket.

  I shook a piece of fresh broccoli at him. “Behave, young man. You know I’m almost old enough to be your mother.”

  “Not unless you were a teen when I was born. And anyway, I tell my mom she’s hot too, because she is.” Damian counted the bottles filling the basket before looking up at me. “But I apologize if I offended you.”

  “Don’t be silly. I appreciate the compliment,” I said, before nibbling on the broccoli.

  “All that charm, and no girlfriend in sight,” Alicia said, after a swift glance at Damian. “What’s up with you young men these days?”

  “Some of us may have other preferences,” Damian said, meeting my interested gaze with a wink.

  Alicia muttered something about kids these days but appeared unphased by this revelation. If it was one, which I actually doubted. Alicia might be older, but she wasn’t oblivious. “Haven’t noticed you escorting anyone, if it comes to that,” she said.

  “Just haven’t found the right person yet.” Damian hoisted the heavy basket of liquor. “I’m going to cart this outside. If you could grab that tray of glassware, Charlotte, that would be awesome.”

  “Sure thing.” Gripping the tray with both hands, I had to kick open the back porch’s screen door with one foot as I followed Damian outside.

  A miasma of heat and humidity permeated the flagstone-paved patio, making me glad I’d decided on the sundress. As I carried the tray of glassware over to our outdoor bar, I noticed that Molly had already arrived and was making a beeline for Damian.

  He looked up from arranging bottles on the shelves under the solid surface bar top. “Hello, Molly. How are you? I know we’ve just missed crossing paths this week.”

  “I’m good.” Molly, who’d twisted her curly blonde hair up into a messy chignon, was wearin
g a different outfit than she’d worn for the tea party. Unlike the simple white top and red skirt from earlier, she was now sporting a daringly low-cut pink sundress. I wondered if it was something she’d purchased on her shopping trip with Harper.

  “Good to hear. I guess we haven’t really seen each other in what? More than fourteen years, I think.”

  Molly fanned her face with her hand. “Goodness, you make me feel ancient.”

  “You don’t look it,” Damian said, earning a smile from her.

  “Anyway, I wasn’t even sure if it was you when I was here earlier in the week,” Molly said. “I mean, you were just a kid when we were in school together. You’ve gotten so tall,” she added, looking him up and down.

  “Had a growth spurt at seventeen.” Damian took some tumblers from the tray I’d set on the counter. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Screwdriver?” Molly cast me a glance as she fidgeted with one of the curls that had fallen out of her updo. “I think that’s one of the more refreshing drinks, don’t you?”

  “Good for a hot day,” I replied, stepping around the bar to assist with putting away the other glassware as Damian fixed Molly’s drink.

  “I also wanted”—Molly bit her lower lip, her peaches-and-cream complexion coloring as she eyed the tall, dark-skinned chef—“to apologize.”

  “For what?” Damian asked, as he handed her the drink.

  “Treating you pretty poorly back in school,” Molly said, before taking a long swallow of her cocktail.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that.” Damian, who’d removed his white chef’s coat and hat, looked very slim and sophisticated in his black T-shirt and trousers, accented with a pale-yellow vest. “We all do some stupid stuff when we’re kids, right?”

  “Some of us more than others.” Molly focused on me. “I don’t know if Damian told you, but I was kind of a pain as a child. Got angry a lot and said and did things I really regret now.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as all that,” I said, resisting the urge to confirm her suspicion. I didn’t see any need to let Molly know that Damian had talked to me about her past behavior.

  “Oh, it was.” Molly plucked the slice of orange off the edge of her tall glass and squeezed it into her drink. “Which is why I thought I should apologize to Damian. I wasn’t very nice to him when we were in school,” she said, dropping the orange wedge into her glass.

  “Apology accepted, and no hard feelings,” Damian replied, his tone mild as milk.

  I shot him a side-eyed glance. Damian had his own issues with his temper, so I was surprised he was so quick to forgive Molly.

  But then again, maybe that’s why, I thought, as I bent down to rearrange some of the glassware on the shelves. He might understand her better than most. I straightened in time to catch Amanda walking onto the patio, with Tony trailing her. She was wearing the same outfit from the tea party, and looked just as cool and elegant as she had earlier.

  Tony, on the other hand, appeared decidedly uncomfortable, in gray trousers and a blue and white striped button-down shirt with its sleeves rolled up above his elbows. He clutched a white handkerchief that he pressed to his forehead every few seconds. I wondered if it was the heat or guilt that had him perspiring so profusely.

  “So I should soon be free of all the annoying questions,” Molly said.

  I realized that my observation of the other guests had made me lose track of the conversation. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Molly was just saying that she’s hooked up the authorities with someone who can vouch for her whereabouts when Lisette was killed,” Damian said. “She should soon be cleared.”

  “Really?” I examined Molly’s round face for any trace of deception. “There’s a witness?”

  “Yeah. They were out of town for a few days, so when I told the police where I was, they couldn’t confirm it. But once they talk to Diane, everything should be cleared up.” Molly finished off her drink and plunked the glass down on the top of the bar.

  “Another?” Damian asked.

  Molly nodded but fixed her gaze on me as she picked up a cheese-topped cracker from the hors d’oeuvre tray. “I know people suspected me, because I wasn’t fond of Lisette, and I do have a temper. Which I’m working on controlling these days, by the way. Anger management classes.”

  “Funny, I’m trying that too,” Damian said, as he fixed her another screwdriver.

  I cast him a swift glance. I hadn’t heard this before, but it did explain why his behavior had been less problematic lately. “Good for you.”

  “It is a good thing.” Molly smiled at both of us before finishing off her cracker and picking up the refilled tumbler. “I’m finding it very helpful, anyway. But what I really wanted to let everyone know is that once my neighbor, Diane, tells the police about seeing me back at my house in Morehead City after that dinner on Saturday night, I shouldn’t be any sort of suspect anymore.”

  I drummed my fingers against the countertop, only stopping when Damian shot me a questioning look. “That sounds like a positive development. Being under suspicion can be very distressing, as I unfortunately know.”

  “Me too,” Damian said. “So good on you for getting out from under that.”

  Molly smiled brightly. She certainly looked innocent, but I still wasn’t convinced. I’d wait for Detective Johnson to confirm her alibi before I struck her off my own list of suspects.

  “Is the bar open, then?” Tony asked, as he sauntered up, almost elbowing Molly when he reached the counter.

  Damian’s smile faded to professional politeness, but he dutifully fixed the drink Tony ordered while Molly slipped away to join Harper, who’d just walked outside.

  Harper was wearing an indigo-blue gauzy cotton tunic dress that was trimmed with braiding and tiny mirrors. With her long, straight hair parted in the middle and hanging loosely about her shoulders, she looked waifish and charming.

  I stepped out from behind the bar and crossed the patio to greet Julie and Scott, who’d parked near the carriage house.

  “Everything old is new again,” Scott said, as they joined me at the edge of the patio. “That dark-haired gal could have posed for a fashion ad back in the sixties.”

  “That’s what it reminds me of too. I was trying to pinpoint why it looks so retro but also familiar,” I said, as Scott leaned in to kiss my cheek.

  “Come on, you weren’t alive in the sixties, Charlotte,” Julie said, before giving me a hug.

  “No, but I’ve seen plenty of family pictures.” I replied with a smile. “You know Great-Aunt Isabella was a bit of a flower-child back in the day.”

  Julie made a tutting noise. “Really? She must’ve been close to forty then.”

  “Never stopped her from wearing the most current fashions.” I glanced over my shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Isn’t that right, Ellen?”

  Looking very fashion-forward herself in a vivid geometric print top and white palazzo pants, Ellen nodded. “Isabella never let age deter her from doing as she wished.”

  “Sounds like my kind of woman.” Scott slipped his arm around Julie’s waist. “Too bad I didn’t get to meet her until she was in her nineties.” He tapped his temple with the fingers of his other hand. “Although, come to think of it, when I rented the carriage house for my initial research on the book, she was still pretty flamboyant. I remember a pair of cheetah-print leggings …”

  Julie giggled. “Maybe I should invest in some more dramatic outfits? It made a lasting impression, it seems.”

  “Hard not to,” Scott said, his smile widening into a grin. “But forgive me, Ellen, I haven’t said hello yet. Distracted,” he added, tilting his head toward Julie.

  “And why wouldn’t you be? You look quite stunning in that red dress, Julie.” Ellen turned to me. “I understand you invited Gavin to join us tonight?”

  “I hope you don’t mind,” I said, without thinking. Noticing Julie and Scott’s confusion, I added, “Ellen and Gavin don
’t always see eye-to-eye, even if they are family.”

  “Probably because they’re family,” Scott said, before offering to get Julie and Ellen drinks. “I’ll let you fend for yourself, Charlotte. Hope you don’t mind, but I only have two hands.” He held up said appendages and waved them like a dancer in a Hollywood musical extravaganza.

  “It’s fine. I think I’ll wander over and see how my other guests are doing, anyway.” I motioned toward Harper and Molly, who were huddled together, animatedly discussing some topic.

  Something I should probably check out, I thought, sharing a glance with Ellen.

  As I walked toward the two young women, who were standing near the large lilac bush that flanked the entrance to the garden, I was stopped by Ophelia and Bernadette.

  Ophelia, despite her red hair, looked like an old-fashioned schoolmarm in a floral-print dress with a white lace collar. She pressed her palms together as if in prayer. “Thanks so much for inviting us. I’m glad to have a chance to speak with Ms. Nobel again before she leaves town.”

  “And of course, your parties always have top-notch food and drinks.” Bernadette, wearing her customary white polo and khaki Bermuda shorts, raised her plate filled with snacks.

  “Thanks, I hope you enjoy yourselves. I wanted to invite everyone who attended the book discussion. Unfortunately, Sandy and Pete couldn’t make it, but I think everyone else is here.” Glancing over at the bar, I noticed Gavin strolling over from Ellen’s yard.

  “Even Ellen’s cousin, or whatever he is,” Bernadette said, fixing me with a stare that told me she questioned Gavin’s supposed familial connection to Ellen. I sighed. It was hard to put anything over on Bernadette. “He’s certainly eyeing you, Charlotte, but then again, you are looking sexier than usual. That’s quite a dress,” she added with a wicked smile.