The Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 7)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  “By the way,” I said enticingly, “I bought your first book this morning. I haven’t had a chance to start. I’m saving it for my next day off.”

  Ben smiled ear to ear. “I would’ve sent you a free copy, but you beat me to it.”

  “Gosh, it was barely three bucks. Hardly going to break the bank. Plus, I’m happy to pay for it because I think it’s important to support local talent.”

  “Well, you might want to wait till you read it, to determine whether or not I have any talent.” He chuckled and slurped down some beer.

  Even though we were only five minutes into our date, I decided to keep the topic going. “I wasn’t going to mention it, but I read your reviews.”

  He tilted his head to look at me with an amused expression. “Did you read the one-star comment about my characters, Steve and Betty, having no chemistry? Ha! There are no characters named Steve or Betty in any of my books.”

  “So, the guy left a review for the wrong book by mistake?”

  “I guess so. I contacted Amazon to let them know, so they are currently looking into it.”

  “What about the other bad reviews?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. They all seem valid, I guess. Truth is, I was really pissed at first, but those bad reviews have helped me.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, even though some of them are nasty and it stings, they make some good points. I could do better with setting and character development, I know that. And I also know that my dialogue is stilted and unrealistic, so I need to improve that, too. Bottom line, I’m in this for the long haul, so I’ll keep working on my craft. At some point, I’ll write a bestseller that will be made into a movie.”

  He winked at me after his last comment, as if to imply he was only kidding.

  “Man, I would be royally pissed if someone left me a negative review. I mean, don’t they understand that writing is like art? It’s so subjective. I don’t think I could be as forgiving as you. Then again, I’ve never written a book, so who am I to know.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I was really angry at first. Getting a one-star review is kinda like going through the five stages of grief. It’s a process you need to work through until you finally come to the realization that you’re not the best writer in the world, and you still have so much to learn. It’s quite humbling, but necessary for growth.”

  “Man,” I said, sipping my wine. “You’ve really spent some time thinking about all this.”

  “I love to write,” he said. “I’ll continue to do it, whether I get paid or not.”

  I didn’t know what else to say, but one thing was for sure: He didn’t sound bitter in the least. Then again, he could be lying just to try and impress me with his level of maturity and resolve. I still had to figure out if Ben was capable of murder.

  As he took a few slugs of beer, I observed him in the low light as he glanced at the TV. He was an average-looking guy, not particularly fit, but not overweight, either. If I were single, I might be open to the idea of dating him, if for no other reason than because he seemed to have goals in life, and he was willing to work for them.

  The TV behind the bar was showing a golf match, and it gave me an idea.

  “So, Ben, do you like sports?”

  “Aside from being forced to play on the little league team in first grade, I have very little interest in sports. All my brothers are Patriots fans, but I prefer to read and write in my spare time.”

  “I completely understand. I went to my first Red Sox game in Boston a few months ago, and I was bored. I mean, Fenway Park was pretty cool, but baseball is so . . .”

  “Dull?” he interjected.

  “I was going to say boring, but dull works just fine, too.”

  He chuckled. “As a private detective, I bet you see a lot of action. Speaking of that, were you able to find out what Jeffrey was involved in? Or, never mind, that’s rude of me to ask. You probably can’t talk about it, anyway. Client confidentiality, and all that.”

  “To tell you the truth,” I said as I leaned closer and lowered my voice. “I think Samantha Black paid Jeffrey to post hundreds of fake reviews on her books.” I decided to leave out the part about the bad reviews.

  Ben’s eyes bulged. “You’re not serious.”

  “I wish I wasn’t.”

  “Holy crap. I’m not surprised that Samantha would do it, but Jeffrey seemed like such an honest guy.”

  “I thought so, too,” I said. “Samantha must be a very convincing lady.”

  Ben swiveled in his stool to face me full on. “If I tell you something, you must promise to keep it between us.”

  I held up my fingers like a girl scout. “Promise.”

  He took another swig and wiped his mouth. “’Bout a month ago, after one of our writers meetings, Samantha invited me back to her house. Said she wanted to talk about a writing collaboration. I was interested, so I decided to go and hear her out. Well, it became very apparent that she was not interested in talking.”

  “She was trying to seduce you?”

  He nodded. “Heck, I’ll admit I was a little flattered, but truth be told, I was disappointed. I didn’t appreciate her trying to manipulate me like that.”

  “Did you tell her as much?”

  “I did it in a nice way, to save her precious ego, but I could tell she was offended. After I left her house, I kept thinking, why me? She could have any guy. I mean, she’s rich, successful, and gorgeous. I am decidedly not any of those things.”

  “Then why do you think she tried to seduce you?”

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe her boyfriend had dumped her, and she wanted to make him jealous.”

  “Do you know who her boyfriend is?”

  “Don’t know his name, but I think he works for her. Anyway, I just thought the whole thing was weird. I decided not to make a big deal of it. I still admire Samantha for her talent and what she’s accomplished.”

  As I looked into Ben’s eyes, I sensed only sincerity, and I realized right then that he could not be responsible for Jeffrey’s death. But, his confession about Samantha intrigued and angered me.

  I finished my wine and took a twenty out of my wallet. “I’m buying the drinks tonight.”

  “Oh, no you’re not. It’s my treat.”

  He tried to reach for his own wallet, but I beat him to it and slapped the bill on the counter with resolve. “Please,” I said, “I insist.”

  “Does this mean you have to go already?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted, and I have a headache. But thanks for meeting me. I really needed a glass of wine.”

  His shoulders slumped. “It’s the cologne, isn’t it? Damn, when will I learn that less is more?”

  His self-deprecating comment made me laugh. I put my hands on his shoulders in an effort to soothe him. “You’re a sweet guy, but I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m kinda dating someone off and on. Not sure if it’s serious. So, basically, I’m not looking for anything else, if you know what I mean.”

  He nodded as if he totally understood. “I’m sort of seeing a woman, too. Not sure where it’s going, either. Guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, sounds like we are.”

  As I got up to leave, I noticed Carter was still sitting at the end of the bar. I wondered if he’d been able to hear our whole conversation.

  As soon as I got into my car, I texted him, letting him know that the mission had been aborted, in case he was wondering. I waited a few minutes to see if he’d text me back, but he didn’t. I decided to drive home and wait for him.

  When I got home ten minutes later, I checked my phone. No messages. I dialed Carter’s cell. When he answered, it sounded like he was in his car.

  “Hey, where are you?” I asked him.

  “I’m sitting in my car across the street from Ben’s apartment.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I don’t think
he’s Jeffrey’s killer. Didn’t you get my text?”

  “Yeah, I got it, Sarah, but I’m following up, that’s all.”

  “Following up with what?”

  “Look, I can’t talk right now. I’ll see you at home. Bye-bye.”

  The connection went dead, and I stood there staring at my cell phone.

  What the hell was he up to?

  I waited another twenty minutes.

  By seven o’clock, I was too antsy to wait around for Carter’s call, so I grabbed my purse and headed back out, with Samantha’s home address plugged into my phone’s GPS.

  Samantha wouldn’t appreciate me showing up at her home unannounced, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t wait to give her a piece of my mind.

  Chapter 23

  Samantha’s house was about what I had expected: a three-story, brick mini-mansion with manicured flower gardens and a long circular driveway in front. Thankfully, there was no iron gate to keep me off her property.

  There were two cars in the driveway. The Lexus I’d seen Samantha driving, and a black Volkswagen GTI with sporty wheels. Apparently, she had company tonight. A gentleman caller? I smiled to think I might be disturbing her romantic dinner.

  I parked in back of the Lexus and made my way to the front door. I rang the bell and waited. Almost a minute went by before the door opened.

  “Sarah?” Samantha stood there with wide eyes, clearly shocked to see the likes of me.

  “Hey, I was hoping you were home. Mind if I come in for a chat?”

  “I . . . I have company. Now is not a good time. Can we meet at my office in the morning?”

  “Actually, tomorrow’s not gonna work for me.”

  She reluctantly opened the door wide to let me in. “I ‘spose I have five minutes. Now what’s so important?”

  I made a show of looking around the grand foyer like I was impressed. “Nice place you got here.”

  “Thanks.”

  She didn’t invite me to sit or offer me a drink. She just stood there with hands on hips, a pleasant smile on her face.

  I decided not to waste any time. “I know about the fake reviews.”

  She blinked once, but her smile never wavered. “Excuse me?”

  “The fake reviews that you had Jeffrey post on all of your books. I have proof, and it’s all on Jeffrey’s laptop.”

  She shifted her foot and blinked again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sarah.”

  “I just wanna know—how did you get Jeffrey to do it? The five grand would not have been enough.”

  Her eye twitched, and I knew I hit a nerve.

  Since she refused to talk, I offered up my theory. “There are usually two ways to get a man to do what you want: money or sex. But Jeffrey wouldn’t sleep with you, just like Ben wouldn’t sleep with you. So something else happened.”

  She made a face, like she had no idea what I was talking about. “Why would I want to sleep with Ben or Jeffrey? I’m in a committed relationship.”

  Even though she spoke with confidence, I sensed an underlying fear. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “None of your business.”

  “You know,” I said, “it’s bad enough that you had Jeffrey write all those five-star reviews for your benefit, but leaving all the negative reviews on Ben’s, Jessica’s, and Vicki’s books . . . well, that’s the lowest of lows. I mean, what kind of heartless wench does something like that?”

  Samantha took a step back and almost tripped on her high heels. “I did no such thing.”

  “Don’t you realize you’ve impeded their chances of making an honest living? What did they ever do to you?”

  Something changed in her demeanor as she stood up straight and smoothed out her skirt, like she intended to get control of this situation. “There’s no proof that I had Jeffrey post those reviews. Show me the proof. You can’t, because there is nothing.”

  I smiled at her. “I’ll give you credit, you’re very clever. You were probably smart enough not to leave a paper trail. No bank transactions. No emails or texts. No phone messages that would connect you to Jeffrey. But why would Jeffrey post hundreds of five-star reviews on your books unless he was getting compensated? Did you threaten him? Or, did you set him up for blackmail?”

  She took a step toward me. “Look, you don’t understand what it’s like. The publishing industry is cut-throat. You have to be willing to think outside the box, take chances, and sometimes, step on a few toes.”

  “You mean, cut off a few toes.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. And frankly, I don’t care if you approve of my practices or not. I have three full-time employees who depend on me. At least I provide jobs in this community. I’m not a drain on this society like so many of the able-bodied deadbeats out there who sit around and collect welfare.”

  “You can try to justify your actions, Samantha, but in the end you’re just a fraud. You don’t even write your own books.”

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t work my ass off. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She marched to the door and opened it. “I’d like you to leave.”

  I didn’t move from where I stood. She had every right to call the police on me, but I was pretty sure she wouldn’t do that. “You took advantage of a depressed and desperate man, and I’m sure, under normal circumstances, Jeffrey would have turned you down. But you made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, didn’t you?”

  Her face was turning red with fury, like she was on the verge of exploding.

  Just then, I heard footsteps and looked to my right. A man’s head poked out from behind a wall and I realized it was Matthew, one of her writers. I gave myself a mental high five because it confirmed my hunch that she was sleeping with him.

  “Everything OK in here?” he asked, timidly, a concerned look on his face.

  “We’re fine, Matthew,” she said, like a teacher scolding a student. “Go back and finish eating your dinner before it gets cold.”

  He retreated into the other room without a word, like a dog with his tail between his legs.

  She turned her attention back to me and smiled as if all her anger had evaporated. “Now, Ms. Woods, I would like to invite you to leave my house. If you have any further concerns, you can call and make an appointment.”

  I realized that Samantha did not ask me how I knew about Jeffrey’s involvement with the reviews. Nor did she ask me why I cared. “How did you know that I lied about being a writer?”

  Her chin lifted an inch as she breathed in through her nose. “I’m not an idiot, Sarah. I could tell you weren’t a writer from the moment we first met.”

  “Then why did you invite me to your office? Why offer me a job?”

  “I was hoping to find out what you were after,” she said, matter of factly. “When you started asking questions about Jeffrey, I knew his wife must’ve put you up to it. I did a little digging of my own, found out you were a private investigator. Not that I blame the woman for hiring you. Jeffrey’s wife seems like a passionate lady. I feel bad for the woman. Her husband ended his own life and she must blame herself.”

  I didn’t care that my cover was blown, but I did not appreciate the way she insinuated that Mary was to blame for Jeffrey’s death. As much as I wanted to enlighten her about the fact that Jeffrey’s death was now being considered a homicide, I bit my tongue. “Now that Jeffrey is gone, all of his phony accounts on Amazon will disappear, too, I suppose.”

  She shrugged as if it made no difference to her either way. “Are we done, Sarah? I’d really like to get back to dinner with my guest.”

  I could have pushed the issue, but she was stubborn and righteous, and my patience was wearing thin. “Fine, I’m leaving,” I said, “but this isn’t over.”

  Once I was back outside, she shut off the outside lights, slammed the door shut, and engaged the dead bolt.

  Back in my car, I sat for a minute, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. My fists were clenched and sweaty. I wiped them on my jeans as I stare
d out the windshield, as if in a daze. But then something caught my attention. A bumper sticker, affixed to the back of the GTI. I turned on my parking lights to get a better look.

  And, sure enough, it was a Red Sox bumper sticker.

  I held my breath, my mind reeling. Sure, it could be a coincidence, but I couldn’t ignore the possibilities that this one minor clue held.

  When I called Carter, I could barely contain my excitement.

  “I’m at Samantha Black’s house,” I told him. “I just confronted her about the fake reviews. Of course, she wouldn’t come right out and admit anything, but as I got into my car, I spotted a Red Sox bumper sticker on Matthew’s car. At least, I think it’s Matthew’s car.”

  “Remind me who Matthew is again.”

  “He works for Samantha, one of her writers. They are romantically involved, like I suspected.”

  “So, you’re saying that he killed Jeffrey for her? Why would he do that?”

  “Well, frankly, the guy seems like a panty-waist. I know it sounds pathetic, but she seems to have him wrapped around her pinky. Not only that, if Samantha was banned from selling her books on Amazon, he would be out of a job, too.”

  “You didn’t actually come out and accuse them of killing Jeffrey, did you?”

  “Of course not, but now Samantha knows that I’m on to her, which is why we need to act fast. Could you swing by Cooper’s place and pick up Jeffrey’s laptop, then meet me over at the police station?”

  “Yeah, I’m on it.”

  Chapter 24

  Ten minutes later, I was sitting in Detective James’s office, explaining what just happened at Samantha’s house.

  “Sarah, you want me to arrest Ms. Black and Matthew because you found a Red Sox bumper sticker on his car? Sorry, Sarah, but I need more than a bumper sticker to arrest them. Heck, I have a Red Sox bumper sticker on my car.”

  “Carter is on his way here with Jeffrey’s laptop. There’s evidence on it that Jeffrey conspired with Samantha to post fake reviews on all her books. Maybe she thought Jeffrey was going to expose her and she panicked. If Jeffrey decided he was going to contact Amazon and confess to what he did, they might pull all of her books from their site. If that motive isn’t enough, then maybe you can get a search warrant to look for the notebook. Matthew probably took it from Jeffrey after he killed him, thinking it contained evidence that would point to Samantha.”