That was what she got for assuming, she supposed.
The office was located on the fifteenth floor of an older downtown building that looked like it belonged in a noir film from the fifties. Bert knew that is was very likely that the office was locked up. Most offices closed on Sundays, so why not this publisher?
Still, she felt a need to try.
Thankfully, parking meters were free on Sundays for just that reason and she could park right next to the entrance.
Heading into the lobby, she was struck by just how utterly silent the place seemed. There wasn’t the usual security guard at the front desk to help usher people in and out. Bert’s heels clicked on the tile floor, echoing in the silence.
The gold and red decorative style gave the place a sort of Art Nouveau appeal which had been popular when the building was built.
Getting to the opposite side of the lobby she found the elevators and pushed the up button. Within seconds, she was on the lift headed for the fifteenth floor.
Her stomach turned slightly as the elevator jolted to a stop. Another one of her fears she rarely let on about was getting stuck on an elevator. She considered the horror of getting stuck in there on a Sunday when no one was around. She’d end up having to wait until Monday morning before someone found and rescued her.
She let out a sigh of relief when the doors finally opened. Leaping out as fast as she could, she steadied her breath and began to search for the office. She quickly found it and much to her surprise, the door sat ajar.
The large glass window next to the door revealed a woman sitting at a desk in the far corner near the window that looked out over the streets below. “Hello?” Bert called, poking her head through the door.
The woman looked up with surprise, blinking in a way that was reminiscent of Hanson Johnson. “Can I help you?” she asked.
Bert let herself in, passing the front desk and heading back to where the woman sat. “My name is Bertha Hannah.”
“Ah, yes. The owner of Pies and Pages. We’re grateful to you for selling our books in your establishment.”
Bert licked her lips. “Honestly, I didn’t realize your home office was located right here in Culver’s Hood until today.”
The woman nodded. “That’s no real surprise. Small print publishing houses like this one are a dying breed compared to the digital age and the bigger New York conglomerates.”
“Well, I am impressed,” Bert admitted.
The woman stood up, holding out a hand of greeting. “I’m Elanor Johnson, one of the owners.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She took the woman’s hand and shook it. She was in her late forties or early fifties, but a real beauty. Her hair was placed into a braided bun that looked like it belonged in a fantasy novel and her makeup was done to perfection. Bert couldn’t help but wonder how she was married to Hanson Johnson, a portly fellow with a bald head.
On the other hand, looks weren’t everything. Who knew, maybe Hanson had been a real stud back in his heyday. Some people just aged better.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Hannah? You’re lucky you caught me here at the office on a Sunday.”
“I knew it was a shot in the dark,” she admitted.
“I’m just playing a little catch-up. Sales on Malinda’s new book has been through the roof, partially thanks to your establishment.”
“I like helping where I can, and Malinda was a joy to have at the store the other night. I’ve never seen the place so packed.”
Elanor smiled, sitting back down and motioning to a chair. “She has a way with people, that’s for sure. Sometimes I think she should have gone into acting.”
“Well, your husband is looking for a new Dracula for the play at the carnival,” Bert said with a playful wink.
The publisher sighed. “Yes, that whole fiasco. A friend of Malinda’s no less.”
“As I hear it, your husband wasn’t too fond of him either.”
“Well, my husband can be childish sometimes. I think he is exaggerating his pain a little much.”
“I ran into him this morning. He mentioned he couldn’t even make it to the carnival last night he was in so much agony.”
Elanor rolled her eyes. “Yes, he was at home all evening breathing down my neck with complaints while I was trying to get some work done.”
“So, he really was just at home all night long?” Bert inquired, a tad disappointed to hear this. It looked like Hanson had been telling the truth all along.
“Yes, ma’am, he was. Much to my dismay. Thankfully, I convinced him to read Malinda’s new book, and that got him out of my hair for a couple of hours.” She smiled again. “That book really is a page turner, don’t you think?”
She gave a sheepish smile. “I haven’t read it. Too scary for my tastes.”
“Ah, understandable,” she agreed.
“My friend is trying to convince me to, though.”
“It is excellent storytelling, unlike anything she’s written for us yet. It is dark and brooding. A real masterpiece in genre fiction, I think.”
“Malinda does seem very proud of it.”
“And we are proud of her here at Johnson and Jackson. For a while, we thought we might never see another book from her again.”
This surprised Bert. “What do you mean?”
“She had a major case of writer’s block most of this past year. We’d maybe see a page or two here or there, but none of it up to snuff. The less she wrote, the more depressed she became.”
“And the more depressed she became, the less she wrote?” Bert assumed.
“You’ve got it exactly right. We were about to drop her contract when she miraculously turned it around and turned out her new book in only a month. Amazing really.”
“Truly,” Bert agreed, her mind wandering to new territory.
“Is there something else I can do for you, Mrs. Hannah? I really do have a lot of work to get done.”
Bert put on her best smile. “No, that’s fine. I just came to see the office is all,” she lied, standing to leave. As she did, she dropped her purse. It tumbled to one side, the contents falling out.
The tattered copy of the book slid out, flopping over page side down and releasing a bookmark from its pages onto the floor. The logo for Pies and Pages looked up at Bert.
This copy had come from her store.
Could it be Doctor Penrue’s copy? If so, what was Malinda doing with it? More importantly, why was it all ripped up?
Chapter Twelve
The Halloween Carnival was even more populated than the night before. Tons of families and children ran about in costume enjoying the spooky season to its fullest. Bert sat at a table in the Hub and Grub waiting for Wyn to arrive.
Within fifteen minutes, the former dental assistant pushed through the crowd, spotting Bert. She walked over and took a seat, looking sallow and haggard from a day’s worth of police questioning.
“Wyn, I’m glad you could make it,” she told the younger woman.
“Me, too. I thought those cops were going to arrest me for sure,” she groaned, her eyes starting to get watery just from remembering it. “Why do they think I’m the killer?”
“You were a convenient suspect. You had just had a falling out with the victim and were at the scene of the crime when the body was found.”
“But I didn’t do it.”
Bert smiled warmly. “I know that, dear. That’s why they had to let you go. All they had was circumstantial evidence.”
“Being in that tiny interrogation room for hours was horrible,” she whimpered.
Bert reached across and squeezed the girl’s hand. “I know it’s been hard, and I know it must also be difficult coming back her to the amusement park after everything that’s happened.”
“It is,” she agreed, her voice wavering. “Anyway, you said you might know who actually killed him?” she wondered, leaning forward eagerly. The sparkle of hope in her eyes showed just how much she’d cared about her deceased bo
ss, maybe even loved him.
She wanted the real killer caught as much as the police did. Perhaps more.
Bert pushed a pumpkin patty toward the young woman. “Here why don’t we eat while we talk.” Having tasty food always made things easier.
Wyn eagerly took the pastry and bit into it.
“When I was in your office the other day, you mentioned that Doctor Penrue had been interested in writing?”
The young woman nodded, her mouth still full. She swallowed. “Yes. He started working on a novel last year during November. He was so excited about it but wouldn’t give anyone a hint what it was about.”
“I see. Did he ever finish it?”
“He did. He wrote a little every evening after work. He finished the first draft in a month and then did edits over the next three or four months I think.”
“Did he mention it again after that?” Bert pressed, eager to see if she was correct in her assumptions.
“Well, yes, actually. He wouldn’t let anyone see it until he was certain it was good.”
“How would he determine that?”
“He gave a copy to that woman, Malinda,” Wyn hissed.
“You don’t like her very much, do you?” Bert asserted, remembering the squabble between the women the night before.
“She’s always just strung Craig along. It was clear he was interested in her.”
“What did she have to say about the book?” Bert wondered, feeling her heart race as she closed in on the punch line.
Wyn paused. “Well, nothing. She started ignoring Craig’s texts and phone calls. When she did answer, she claimed she was busy with work and couldn’t give him feedback.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” she sighed.
“What?”
“Did he keep a copy of the book on the computer at work?”
“On his personal office computer, yes. If he got an idea during the day, he’d go type it really quickly.” She narrowed her eyes at Bert. “What are you getting at?”
“That Malinda stole his book and published it as her own,” Bert finally revealed.
The young woman’s jaw fell wide open.
“That was the info we needed, thank you,” a gruff and familiar voice noted from the next table over. Wyn glanced at the table to see Detective Mannor stand up. Two plains clothes cops also stood with him.
“Detective?”
“I have some more questions for Malinda, that’s for sure.”
“I had a hunch after talking to her publisher today,” Bert noted. “I called Harry and he believed it was a path worth pursuing.”
“You get clearance to check the contents of the victim’s computer as soon as possible. If we can find an original copy of that book with his name on it, we can clinch the case.”
“On it, sir,” one of the officers agreed, heading off.
“And you get on the radio and make sure we have officers at every exit in case she runs.”
“Yes, sir,” the second man said, heading off to make the call.
“You two stay here,” he ordered, heading off into the crowd.
“I can’t believe it. She really killed him, you think?” Wyn wondered, her eyes following Harry.
“Malinda had a copy of the book that was all tattered. The police and I believe it was Doctor Penrue’s book and that he’d confronted Malinda about it, threatening to expose her as a plagiarist. He probably beat it up himself, throwing it on the ground or stamping it or something.”
“So, that book that has been so popular and selling like hotcakes was his?”
“Yes. That book is in evidence now and I’m pretty sure they’re going to do forensic testing on it to see if he ever handled it.”
Shouts from nearby drew the women’s attention. They watched with wide eyes as Malinda pushed through people, knocking folks over and trying to get away from Detective Mannor.
They’d planned on trying to bring her in at the carnival because with more people around she was less likely to run. It hadn’t worked.
“She’s heading for the waterfront,” someone shouted.
“What’s she going to do? Swim away?” Wyn wondered.
However, a few minutes later when the engine to the riverboat roared to life, there were gasps all around. Bert stood bolt upright. She’s trying to steal the riverboat? There are still people in the haunted house.”
Bert felt her heart racing, worried about any children on board, but a wave of relief washed over her as she saw lights begin to blink from the shadowy trees across the way. Police boats pulled out and surrounded the big boat, officers boarding.
A few young kids dressed as cops for Halloween were clapping and shouting excitedly.
Soon, it was all over, and Malinda was being led off the boat in handcuffs.
Chapter Thirteen
“Happy Halloween,” Carla shouted, stabbing her fork deep into the red filling of her slice of Vampire Pie. It was Wednesday and the official day of Halloween. Bert had closed the shop a little early to host a small party for close friends.
Shiv, Carla, and Harry were all there devouring slices of the seasonal pie. Bert even had a slice herself, digging in and chewing the sweet yet slightly spicy dessert without so much as a hint of pain in her tooth or her jaw. She was grateful for that and hoped to not have to return to a dentist soon.
“Happy Halloween,” everyone echoed a response to Carla’s declaration.
“I’m just glad the real horrors are over,” Bert admitted, sitting down at one of the tables and sipping her cup of Black Death coffee.
“Well, we have the suspect in custody and I doubt she’ll be let out anytime soon,” Harry commented.
“Did you actually find any hard evidence against her?” Bert wondered, hoping that what her boyfriend said was true.
He sat at the table with her. “As a matter of fact, yes. Once we brought her in the other night, we got her fingerprints. Lo and behold, they matched a print on the victim's body.”
“Where?” Shiv asked.
“Well, Malinda tried to frame Wyn for the crime by using the victim’s own hand to write a W in blood. However, she left her own bloody fingerprint on his index finger.”
“Not that clever, it seems,” Carla commented.
“No, not so much. They rarely are,” Harry said.
“I mean, what was she thinking would happen after the book came out? Did she expect the dentist really would turn a blind eye?” Bert pointed out.
“She wasn’t thinking at all, more likely,” Carla said.
“Criminals in a desperate situation don’t often think things all the way through.” Harry shoveled another bite into his mouth.
“Her publisher was about ready to drop her contract. It was probably a last-ditch effort to keep her writing career alive,” Bert said, sipping from her mug. “I’m just glad Wyn didn’t actually get stuck with a murder charge when she was innocent.”
As if in response to the mention of her name, Wyn knocked on the front glass door of the shop. Bert jumped up and answered it. “Welcome, come in, come in.”
“Thanks for inviting me. I don’t have a whole lot of friends in town and was planning on sitting at home and watching scary movies.”
“This is better,” Carla declared, grabbing a fresh slice of pie and handing it to the young woman.
“This looks good,” she declared.
“My own recipe,” Bert informed her. “Raspberry and chocolate with a hint of hot spice.”
“Sounds amazing,” she gushed.
“How is the job hunt coming?” Bert asked, knowing Wyn had been shopping around.
She sighed. “Not great. After my mess up at the last office, most other dentists are reluctant to hire me.”
Bert finished the last bite of her pie and stood up. “In that case, I may have a solution.”
“How so?” Wyn asked.
“Well, things have been getting more and more busy here at the store. Shiv and I can’t handle it all on our ow
n.”
Wyn’s jaw dropped. “Wait, you’re offering me a job?”
“We’d love to have you,” Shiv beamed.
Wyn shrugged and gave a timid smile. “How can I say no to the people who helped clear me of murder?”
“Great, when can you start?”
“Tomorrow, if you like.”
“It’s a plan,” Bert said. “Happy Halloween!”
Also by Carolyn Q. Hunter
Diner of the Dead Series
Book 1: The Wicked Waffle
Book 2: Battered and Buttered Waffle
Book 3: Sinister Strawberry Waffle
Book 4: The Wayward Waffle
Book 5: Pumpkin Pie Waffle
Book 6: Turkey and Terror
Book 7: Creepy Christmas Waffle
Book 8: Birthday Cake Waffle
Book 9: Spooky Sweetheart Waffle
Book 10: Eerie Irish Waffle
Book 11: Savory Spring Waffle
Book 12: Benedict Waffle
Book 13: Scary Sausage Waffle
Book 14: Murderous Mocha Waffle
Book 15: Red Velvet Waffle
Book 16: High Steaks Murder
Book 17: Hole In One Waffle
Book 18: Fireworks and Waffles
Book 19: Games, Ghouls and Waffles
Book 20: Waffling in Murder
The Wicked Waffle Series
Book 1:Hot Buttered Murder
Book 2: Bacon Caramel Murder
Book 3: Thanksgiving Waffle Murder
Book 4: Christmas Waffle Caper
Book 5: Buckaroo Waffle Murder
Book 6: Wedding Waffle Murder
Book 7: Cactus Waffle Murder
Book 8: Zombie Waffle Murder
Book 9: A Very Catty Murder
Pies and Pages Series
Book 1: Killer Apple Pie
Book 2: Killer Chocolate Pie
Book 3: Killer Halloween Pie
Book 4: Killer Thanksgiving Pie
Book 5: Killer Christmas Pie
Perfectly Pumpkin Killer Page 6