by Mia Dymond
Reagan’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve never solved a crime! Where do we start?”
Dara smiled at the other woman’s enthusiasm and wished it could be directed at something other than murder. “So far, we’ve come to the conclusion the suspect is male.”
“Messy crime scene.” Marnie shuddered. “The things nightmares are made of.”
Bri laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “What else, Dara?”
“How he gained entry is still a mystery.”
She could almost literally hear the wheels spin in Bri’s head while she spoke. “Evelyn’s throat was slit, correct?”
Dara nodded.
“Judging by that method, I would guess he’s a quick thinker; he makes up his mind to do something and then follows through without hesitation. Applying that hypothesis to entering your condo, I would say he found the fastest way possible. My guess is he had access to a key or even made one.”
Annie lifted an eyebrow. “Have you ever called a locksmith?”
“No, and even the super wasn’t much help during the times I’ve locked myself out. The HOA secretary let me back inside with the master key.”
Bri tapped her bottom lip with one finger. “Female?”
“Yes. She’s probably sixty years old and not in the shape to pose much of a threat to anyone.”
Reagan snorted. “Not even with a knife in her hand?”
Dara shook her head in the negative. “Besides, she and her husband have fifteen grandchildren. I don’t see her as murderous or threatening.”
“Are we absolutely sure there’s only one master key?” Annie’s question didn’t surprise her considering the other woman’s attraction to numbers.
“The same thought crossed my mind and yes, when I signed the paperwork on my condo it stated very explicitly that only one master was available per unit.” She paused to lift her glass to her lips and swallow a generous amount of wine. “Taking that fact even further, I’m only the second owner of my condo and the locks were changed when I took possession. My theory is that someone picked the lock.”
Reagan nodded. “That means the suspect may have a criminal background.”
“If not, he will,” Marnie murmured.
“It also means,” Bri interjected, “that he’s patient and that tedious activities do not dissuade him. Individuals of this nature usually possess strong management and people skills. Do you know anyone that fits that description, Dara?”
“I can think of several agents, but I’m almost certain none of them would commit murder due to a negative review.”
Annie seemed genuinely perplexed. “Really? Why?”
“Research shows negative publicity can boost sales. Besides, book reviews are simply opinions and although a negative one stings the author, not every reader agrees.”
“I refuse to read book reviews,” Marnie said. “I want to draw my own conclusions.”
Bri poked a loose tendril of hair behind one ear. “Do we know anything about Evelyn?”
“Not much,” she admitted. “She’s a freelance reviewer for several publications, the Primrose Daily Chronicle included. Based on previous reviews, it appears she targets authors within their own communities. The only thing I do know for sure is that she didn’t have friends in the business.”
“Her style leaves a lot to be desired.” Marnie reached for a chip then broke it in two pieces. “Downright uncouth if you ask me.”
“Perhaps she was jealous,” Bri suggested.
Reagan tilted her head to one side. “I don’t get it.”
“Maybe she attacked others because she wasn’t able to achieve the same degree of success.”
“I’ll agree with that diagnosis.” Dara grabbed an empty straw wrapper and tied it into knots. “But even analyzing her motives I can’t identify a suspect. There’s too many.”
Annie ran a hand across her forehead. “Let’s take a break and read your e-mail, Dara.”
Dara pulled her laptop from the leather case, opened the lid, and pushed the power button while aggravation vibrated her nerves. If a certain stubborn detective would agree to share information, most likely identifying the suspect would be much easier. Although she realized he needed to keep his investigation quiet to the public, she also knew her assistance could be invaluable. Writers tended to keep to themselves but when they chose to socialize, they did so with other writers. She could provide entry into circles normally closed to him.
She signed into her email account and waited for the messages to load, still frustrated at Mace’s lack of cooperation. Creativity was something in which she prided herself; she’d just have to use it to convince him to let her participate.
“Guess who, girls?” She grinned at the first message on the list.
“What does the message say this time?” Marnie crowded next to her.
She pushed the computer back to allow them all to see the screen, clicked on the message, and read aloud:
Dearest Dara:
The unfortunate chain of events over the last few days has angered me.
What a shame that a murder has overshadowed the release of your next
beautiful masterpiece. Perhaps the reviewer finally got what she deserved.
In any event, I thoroughly enjoyed reading your novel and lovingly give it
five stars.
I remain,
Romantically Devoted
“Wow, this reader is dedicated.” Bri leaned back against the booth. “Do you know who it is?”
“No, but every week I receive a message without fail.”
“The message is well written, concise, and directly to the point,” Bri mused.
“This person obviously has formal education.” As soon as the words left her mouth, realization pummeled her brain. “Oh geez! I’d also bet he or she writes in some capacity. Why didn’t I pick up on that earlier?”
“Probably because you found a body in your living room,” Marnie drawled.
“I think you’re right.” Bri ran an index finger across the author’s salutation. “And, I’d say your writer is male.”
“How so?” Even Annie’s voice sang with excitement.
“The verbiage,” Bri explained. “Unless this person leads an alternative lifestyle, a woman probably wouldn’t use terms such as dearest to address a female.” She tapped on the electronic signature. “Or Romantically Devoted.”
“You do have male fans,” Reagan reminded her.
She took a few seconds to process Bri’s analysis, one she agreed with wholeheartedly. Romantically Devoted definitely knew her work well and never hesitated to give her a compliment. Strange, though, that he didn’t once identify himself. Or was it?
“He’s lonely,” she said finally.
“Or lovesick.” Bri moved her finger over the computer’s mouse to highlight several words. “Terms like dearest, beautiful, lovingly, and romantically all have love in common.”
“He’s in love with Dara?” Marnie clucked her tongue. “Detective Turner’s not gonna like that.”
“Not necessarily. It’s possible he’s in love with someone else who doesn’t return the emotion or he’s been rejected by a lover. He’s transferring emotion onto Dara because her novels give him a feeling of euphoria.”
“You never cease to amaze me, Bri.” Marnie shook her head. “I think I need to schedule an appointment – I’m a psychiatrist’s dream.”
“We love you for the psycho you are,” Dara chided.
“It’s just a theory,” Bri added, “but now we have something to think about.”
“Plenty,” she agreed as she logged off and powered down the computer. “But remember, no one tells Detectives Turner, Stewart, or Rawlings. I need a bargaining chip and I think we’ve just found one.”
CHAPTER SIX
Dara opened one eyelid only to slam it closed again when sunlight snuck through a slit in the curtains of Marnie’s spare bedroom and speared her eyeball. The pain could only mean one thing
– it was too early in the morning to even consider being awake. Even the luscious smell of brewed coffee wasn’t enough to lure her out of her soft cocoon.
She had just convinced herself to spend another hour in bed when her cell phone sang. No. She opened the opposite eye, slowly this time, and glanced at the dresser where the phone lay. Not a problem. Voicemail.
“Dara, can’t you hear your phone?”
She heard Marnie’s gravelly, sleepy voice from somewhere outside the warm blankets. She simply grunted in response and molded her pillow over both ears.
“Answer it,” her friend demanded as the phone suddenly landed near her nose. “It might be Detective Turner.”
She moved one hand from the pillow as the phone quieted. “If it’s important they’ll call back.”
“Honestly, Dara, I love you like a sister but these vampire hours you keep have got to change. If it weren’t summer break I’d sleep through class.”
She rolled over and pried open her eyes, squinting in the light as Marnie threw open the curtains. “You’re a drill sergeant,” she moaned. “Good thing I’m not a vampire because you just threw all that light on me and I would have caught your bed on fire.”
“If Mace were in there with you, you probably would anyway.”
She swatted her best friend with the pillow just as her phone rang again.
“Who is that, anyway?”
Dara picked it up and read the screen. “I don’t recognize the number. Maybe I shouldn’t answer.”
“Please do!”
“Why?”
“Because the caller is persistent and I’m curious.”
She smirked at her friend’s honesty as she answered. “Hello?”
“Dara? It’s Griffin. Griffin Owens. I’m sorry to bother you but I’ve been by your unit several times and haven’t been able to catch you.”
“Hi, Griffin.” She glanced at Marnie and lifted a questioning eyebrow. “I’ve been staying with a friend. I haven’t been able to return home, it being a crime scene and all.”
“I noticed they removed the yellow tape yesterday.”
“Yes. In fact, Detective Turner hired a cleaning company to remove the carpet and tile. I probably won’t return until the renovation is complete.”
“That’s why I called. My family owns a construction business and I can make you a deal if you don’t already have someone in mind.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t even gone shopping to see what I want.”
“I get a discount at Murphy’s Carpet and Tile. When you have a chance, stop by and place the order. I can lay the carpet one day and do the tile the next.”
“That would be wonderful, Griffin, thank you! I’ll let you know when I choose something.”
“Okay. You have my number.”
“Yes, I’ll call. See you later.”
Dara disconnected and Marnie frowned. “That was weird. Has Griffin ever called you before?”
“No. Never.”
Marnie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know about this. Maybe you should avoid him.”
“Don’t be silly, he’s harmless.” She pushed back the covers and lowered her feet to the floor.
“How do you know? He might be some slimy pervert.”
“We really need to discuss your paranoia, Marnie, maybe Bri can help you with that.”
“I’m serious!”
She lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I searched him online. He hasn’t even had a speeding ticket.”
“You can’t search police records.”
“On the contrary, arrest records are public.”
“Dara! You little sneak!”
“I’m heading for the shower,” she said as she stood and walked to the door. “And, I’m hungry. Call Alex and suggest lunch at Hannigan’s. She’ll want to hear the news.”
An hour later, Dara’s stomach growled as she and Marnie stood on Alex’s front porch. “Remind me again why we’re here; Alex’s firm is downtown.”
“She’s not at the firm.”
“No way!”
“Swear! Her secretary said she took the day off.”
“Why?”
Her friend’s eyes widened. “You don’t suppose ....?”
Dara shrugged and lifted a hand to knock on the door, stopping in mid-air at the last minute. “Do you think we should’ve called first?”
“I had the same thought.” Marnie reached into her purse and grinned while she pulled out her cell phone. “Just in case.”
Dara braced herself on one hip against the side of the house while she waited to hear at least one side of the conversation.
“Must be some nooner,” Marnie mumbled.
“How many times has it rung?”
“Six.”
“Hang up.” Dara resumed her knocking position. “Serves her right for not answering.”
Just as her knuckles touched the smooth oak door, it flew open. Alex stood there, her arms crossed and both eyebrows raised.
“Why are you calling me from my front porch?”
Marnie slid her finger across the screen to disconnect the call. “Why did you play hooky today?”
Dara waited in the silence and bit her tongue to keep from laughing.
“I asked you first,” Alex said easily.
“We were being polite.” The smooth response easily left Marnie’s mouth and Dara found herself impressed. “You know, in the event you had company.”
Alex tapped her right index finger against her arm. “I’m alone.”
“Okay, so answer my question.”
“No reason.” Alex uncrossed her arms and waved them inside. “I’m in between cases and opted for some down time.”
Dara personally didn’t buy it but decided baiting Alex wouldn’t help any of them at this particular moment. Especially since she actually had good news.
“Good for you, Alex.” She led the way to the living room and perched on the edge of the sofa, ready to fill in the blanks for Alex. And then, as soon as she opened her mouth, she saw the two wine glasses resting on the coffee table. She cocked her head to one side and let a slow grin spread her lips. “You haven’t been alone.”
Marnie burst into a fit of giggles.
“Fine,” Alex relented, “I had a late night guest.”
“How late?” Marnie insisted.
“Late. What do you two want, anyway?”
“We came to take you to lunch,” Dara told her. “Our treat.”
“Where?”
“Hannigan’s.”
“Any special reason, Marnie?”
Marnie’s cheeks broadcast a nice shade of pink. “Uh, no.”
“No questions.”
“No deal.” Marnie jumped on the opportunity to negotiate. “Dara needs to keep her mind on something other than murder.”
Alex shook her head, slipped on her shoes, and reached for her purse. “You two are relentless.”
Dara stood. “Yes, but you love us anyway.”
“True,” Alex agreed as they left the house, “but, lunch or not, I’m not taking this off your bill.”
“Of course not,” Dara mumbled while they walked out of the house to her car.
Once everyone was buckled, she pulled away from the curb and headed across town to Hannigan’s.
“So Alex,” Marnie said from the back seat. “Who kept you up so late last night?”
“Detective Stewart,” Dara answered easily. “That’s a no-brainer.”
Marnie whacked the back of the driver’s seat. “Dara! I wanted Alex to admit it.”
“So Detective Stewart came over for coffee.” Alex shrugged. “No big deal.”
Dara bit her lip. Of course, Marnie had to poke.
“You mean Jackson, right?”
“No, Detective Stewart.”
“Those weren’t coffee cups on the table.”
Although she was just as curious as Marnie about their friend’s evening, she simply glanced at Alex and raised an eyebrow.
“Oh
good grief, you two! Detective Stewart came by to discuss a case. We drank wine. End of story.”
Dara knew Alex too well to believe that was the end of the story but she didn’t have to question the other woman’s response – Marnie took care of that.
“Was it a sleepover?”
She quickly averted her eyes back to the road, incredibly curious but smart enough not to chime in. Alex shifted in the passenger seat, still silent.
“Well?!” Marnie prodded.
Alex turned and smirked. “No comment.”
“That means he slept there.”
“No it doesn’t,” Alex said calmly. “It means wouldn’t you like to know?”
Dara laughed out loud as she pulled into the sports bar’s parking lot. Marnie ought to have known that pushing Alex to admit something was a lost cause.
As soon as they entered, Dara wasn’t surprised to find the place almost packed full. Even the seats around the bar were occupied.
“Any other suggestions?” she hollered over the dull roar of conversation.
“Let’s just wait a few minutes,” Marnie yelled back. “Something’s bound to come open.”
A high-pitched whistle caught her attention and Dara glanced in the direction of the sound to see a table of men, one in particular signaling with his hand for her to approach. She smiled and shook her head no.
“Oh come on, Dara.” Alex stepped in front of her. “They’re just male.”
She glanced at Marnie who shrugged and then followed Alex. Dara figured if she wanted to eat, she had no choice but to tag along. The three of them stopped at the table, Alex with one hand on her hip.
“You whistled?”
A sandy brown-haired, green-eyed Adonis stood and smiled at Alex. “We’re finished here and we thought you might like the table.”
“Thank you.” Alex attempted to take a seat when he grasped her forearm.
“For your phone number.”
Even over the crowd, Dara heard the quick breath Marnie sucked in. Her own eyes widened at the ignorance of the well-built stud.
“Let me understand this.” Alex peeled off his fingers. “You summoned us over here with a wolf whistle, offered to give up this table because, by your own admission, you’re finished eating, and then touch me without permission and use my telephone number as a bribe.”