Permanently Booked

by Lisa Q. Mathews

  “I’d much rather have a lesson with Garrett,” she heard a woman tell the younger guy with the clipboard. “But if Judy is all you’ve got…”

  Aargh. She didn’t have time to come back later. And she needed to get this over with. It had been a while since she asked anyone out—maybe for one of those girls-ask-the-guys dances in junior high—but hopefully, by the time she got to the counter, she’d have a plan.

  “Hi there,” she said to Garrett, flashing him a big smile before the kid with the clipboard could intercept her. “I’m Summer Smythe, from over at Hibiscus Pointe. I don’t need to book anything.”

  The tennis pro’s melted-Hershey’s eyes, which perfectly matched his smooth, flawless skin tone, were filled with confusion. And maybe a tiny hint of impatience. “All right, then. How can I help you, Summer?”

  Whoa. British accent. Very hot. Jennifer was going to love this guy. Plus, he coached wheelchair tennis. He had to be cool.

  “Well, uh, I have a really big favor to ask. I’m a friend of one of your wheelchair players—Peggy Donovan?” Summer tried to ignore the annoyed vibes behind her in line. “She and I are attending a sort of charity party”—well, that was stretching things, but book clubs did promote literacy, right?—”tonight at Milano Book & Bar. She and another friend of mine were hoping you might stop by to represent Majesty Golf & Tennis and help benefit a reading program for, uh, at-risk seniors.”

  Oops, was that even a thing? Maybe she was pushing it. But Garrett had stopped frowning, at least. “And kids,” she added quickly. “They read together.”

  “Come on, young lady, wrap it up,” a man behind her called.

  Summer ignored the crabby guy and kept her eyes on her mark. “So, what do you think? It would mean so much to Peggy and the kids. You could be my date, if you wanted. Just for the evening, I mean.”

  “Okay, sure. If it’s for a worthy cause, I guess,” the tennis pro said.

  “Awesome,” Summer said. “So seven o’clock at Milano Book & Bar, okay? I’ll meet you there.”

  She handed him her social card—the one with a fake number, because it was all she had on hand at the moment—and beat it out of the pro shop before Garrett could change his mind.

  The valet at the bottom of the front steps was superefficient and she handed him her last five bucks when he brought up the MINI. He didn’t seem that impressed with the tip, but Summer couldn’t worry about that now. With luck, she could get in a little pool time before she had to get ready for the author signing—and her fake charity date.

  Summer had the Majesty Golf & Tennis guardhouse in sight—why did they have to check people on their way out, anyway?—when a windowless white van pulled out in front of her. She honked and the driver made an obscene gesture in her direction.

  It didn’t matter how many fingers he held up, or which one. Because the guy had a long snake tattoo down the side of his left arm.

  Ray. The Snake himself. What was he doing at a fancy-schmantzy golf and tennis club?

  The van made a sudden left turn onto what looked like a cart path and Summer hit the brakes just as she reached the gatehouse. She tried to back up so she could pull a U-ie, but the security guard came out and blocked her way.

  “Hold it, miss,” he said, holding up one hand. “You can’t turn around here.”

  “I need to follow that van.” Summer pointed toward the clunky vehicle, which was already speeding away.

  “Sorry. You’ll have to go through the gate and come around again.”

  Summer tried not to let her irritation show. “Okay,” she said. “Would you mind moving a little so I don’t—”

  “You were traveling at an excessive speed, by the way,” the chunky man broke in, adjusting his Majesty Golf & Tennis cap. “We have a fifteen-mile-per-hour limit on our main road here. Ten in the subdivisions.”

  “Got it.” Summer sighed. By now Ray was out of sight.

  She followed the man’s instructions, but as she went through the gate on the other side and turned right toward the cart path, another security guard came up and cut her off. “No cars on the cart path,” he said.

  “But I’m following someone else.” Summer pointed at the lingering MINI storm of sand and dust Ray had left in his wake.

  “Sorry. Club rules. If you go out by the gatehouse behind you, you’ll meet up where the path lets out, on Majesty Boulevard.”

  Well, that was just perfect. Summer had no choice but to turn around, one more time. The gatehouse guard gave her a jaunty wave on the way out.

  Ray was a snake, all right. Just as slippery as his girlfriend. But at least she could report the suspect sighting to Detective Donovan tonight.

  *

  Dorothy had had a lovely afternoon. She’d managed a refreshing nap after her cleanup session in the library, and she’d even had her hair done in the Hibiscus Pointe Salon. Best of all, she’d been lucky enough to just miss Gladys Rumway.

  She wasn’t quite as fortunate to avoid Carrie Dunbar. Or at least the eager young author’s voice on her message machine. Carrie had made four calls.

  Dorothy skipped through to the most recent one.

  “Hi, Dorothy! Would you and Summer like a ride downtown for the signing party? I’ve got this brand-new idea for our next book club event…”

  Dorothy shuddered and stabbed at the delete button with her finger. It was easy to see why Parker found her employer so exhausting. Hadn’t one of them mentioned at Dash’s dinner party that Carrie only needed four hours of sleep per night?

  She probably spent all that extra time dreaming up new promotional ideas. It was a wonder she found any spare time to actually write.

  Dorothy shook her mind free of Carrie and headed to the spare bedroom to free Guinevere. “Here, kitty, kitty,” she called softly, with a quick glance over her shoulder. Where was Mr. Bitey? He hadn’t come bounding out to greet her as usual.

  Oh dear. A thin gray tail stuck out from beneath the bed skirt of the far twin bed, twitching slightly. And the bowl of kibble she’d left for the small kitty was overturned on the pale blue carpet—completely empty.

  Guinevere was not a messy eater. But someone else was.

  After a quick glance around the guest room, Dorothy marched to the closet and pulled open the accordion door. Sure enough, Mr. Bitey sat up tall on top of a houndstooth suitcase, looking quite pleased with himself.

  “Shame on you,” Dorothy scolded. “How did you get in here, you greedy rascal?”

  In answer, the orange tomcat brushed past her and scurried out toward his scratching post in the living room. Not quite as quickly as usual, because of an overloaded tummy.

  “You poor thing,” she said to the small gray cat, who had disentangled herself from the bed skirt and come over to wind around Dorothy’s ankles. “I’ll get you a new dinner right away. And Mr. Bitey is going on a strict diet.”

  The sooner she found a proper home for Guinevere, the better. Perhaps she could make some queries this evening at the party. How very sad that Lorella’s beloved pet had been forced into foster care with a jealous bully.

  Surely Guinevere was mourning her late owner. Did anyone else miss Lorella? Somehow it didn’t appear that way. She had died alone, no doubt in fear. And that was the saddest thing of all.

  The least Dorothy could do for both of them was to find the lightly lamented librarian’s killer.

  At six forty-five sharp, Dash pulled the Mercedes up to the side door of Hibiscus Gardens and jumped out to help Dorothy into the backseat. Summer was already there, all dressed up and her hair wet-combed from her post-swim shower.

  She was wearing Lorella’s ring, Dorothy noticed. Perhaps her friend planned to give it to Detective Donovan tonight. She hoped so, anyway.

  “Hello, Dorothy.” Georgiana twisted around from the front, her face partially hidden by tinted glasses and a red chiffon driving scarf that went over her head and around her neck. “I was just telling Dashiell and Summer that I’m so glad to have company on
the way to this shindig. It could be a mob scene.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Dorothy agreed politely. Nothing, she suspected, would please Georgiana more, no matter how much the author denied it.

  “I added one more,” Summer said, bringing a compact and lipstick from her bag. “His name is Garrett and he’s the head tennis pro over at Majesty Golf & Tennis. You’ll like him, I think.”

  “I haven’t met this guy yet,” Dash said as he navigated the speed bumps out of Hibiscus Pointe. “Don’t I get to approve him first?”

  “Oh, it’s not a date, really. Not for me, anyway.”

  Dorothy readjusted her new Designer Shoe Hut purse on her knees. Sometimes she didn’t quite understand how young people operated these days on the romance front. But her friend seemed to be happy with whatever path she was following.

  It did surprise her, though, that Summer might be interested in someone other than Detective Donovan. She’d been so sure there had been sparks between those two earlier. But really, it wasn’t any of her business.

  She’d learned her lesson long ago with Maddie.

  “You know, I must tell you all, I am quite enjoying my stay in Milano so far,” Georgiana remarked as they turned onto Majesty Boulevard. “More than I expected, in fact. Not that I don’t always enjoy a visit with my son and his family,” she added quickly. “When I’m invited.”

  Dash kept his eyes on the road as he changed lanes to avoid a slow-moving Cadillac. “We all love having you, Mother. And you’re always invited. You know that.”

  “Yes, well.” Dorothy could hear Georgiana’s nails tapping the seat divider. “I’m seriously thinking of buying a place down here—or, at the very least, establishing a more frequent presence in the Hamel-LeBlanc household.”

  Summer snapped her compact shut, seemingly by accident, and Dorothy saw the side of Dash’s face turn whiter than the exterior of the Mercedes.

  This would be an excellent time to change the subject, Dorothy told herself. She needed to ask Georgiana something that had been bothering her, and it might as well be now. A direct approach might be best.

  And perhaps, if she asked in a very casual tone, with others in the car, it would seem less important. The silence in the air was already quite awkward.

  “Tell me, Georgiana,” Dorothy spoke up, “is it possible that you were ever acquainted with Lorella Caldwell? That old photo of her on the easel at the book club kickoff…did it by any chance look familiar? I know you both attended Wellsmount College around the same time, and I thought, by your reaction yesterday, that maybe you had recognized…” She let her voice trail away delicately.

  Oh dear. She’d made a terrible mistake, Dorothy realized. The silence in the car had become even more ominous. But it was too late to withdraw the words now.

  “It’s possible,” Georgiana answered finally, with a shrug from the front seat. She didn’t turn around this time. “I did take a second look at that photograph. Blurry, and quite dated. But, you see, I am probably quite a bit younger than Lorella.”

  Dash cleared his throat, and Summer bit her freshly-geranium-pinked lip as she shot Dorothy a dubious look.

  “Oh yes, of course,” Dorothy said. “How silly of me.”

  “Darling, where is the lighter in this fancy car?” Georgiana asked her son. “My e-cigarette is out of juice, and I need to recharge.”

  “We don’t have one, Mother,” Dash said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

  “Hmmph,” Georgiana said, looking quite put out. “Well, fine. If you don’t mind, everyone, I need a few moments to think about my off-the-cuff remarks for this evening.”

  Clearly, that was the end of the conversation regarding Lorella. For now, anyway. Dorothy knew she’d need to find some other way of bringing up the subject later. Georgiana was obviously being evasive about her fellow alumna—but why?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Summer was relieved that the rest of the drive downtown to Milano Book & Bar had been quick and relatively painless, with everyone lost in their own thoughts.

  She was starting to feel a little nervous about the whole deal with Garrett. It was a stupid idea to try to set him and Jennifer up, she realized now. Even for something as tame as this, a book signing party. At least nobody thought of bookstores, even cool ones with a bar like this one, as big hook up places. Totally safe, no pressure.

  So hopefully, Jennifer wouldn’t be mad at her, and with luck maybe Garrett wouldn’t even realize she’d invited him here under false pretenses. But she did need to talk to Detective Donovan alone tonight about seeing Ray near the golf course.

  As they all got out of the car, Dash quizzed the valet on exactly how and where he planned to park the Mercedes. The kid pointed to a supertight spot, just a few feet away from the bookstore entrance.

  Sometimes Milano was a lot like LA, after all.

  “Do you think there will be anything to eat at this thing?” she whispered to Dorothy as they stepped through the heavy oak door. Dash and Georgiana were still outside, getting ready for another one of her big entrances.

  She was starting to get a really good idea of why Dash was always so annoyed by his mom.

  “I imagine there will be something,” Dorothy said. “Hors d’oeuvres, at least, since they’re serving cocktails. There should be a large group of us for dinner at the New Algonquin afterward. I believe that’s what Parker mentioned, anyway.”

  “Never heard of the place,” Summer said. “But at least it’ll be a chance for us to dig up more dirt for the case, I guess.”

  “Yes, it may be more of a challenge than we’d expected here at the signing,” Dorothy said. “Just look at all these people.”

  “Wow, you’re right,” Summer said. Milano Book & Bar was packed, and not just in the bar section. It wasn’t the biggest space in the world, but the bookstore part probably hadn’t seen this many people in years. Maybe ever.

  She spotted Garrett just after Dorothy excused herself to find the powder room. He was waiting right by the sign that said Welcome, Authors and Guests. Signing Today: Georgiana Hamel, Bestselling Author of Murder in the Mist. Below it, in smaller letters, a bookstore employee had tacked a large green sticky note that said And Carrie Dunbar.

  Ouch.

  “Hey.” Summer gave Garrett a grin as she went up to him, but not a really big one so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

  “You look really nice,” he said, smiling back.

  So did he, in his casual blue-toned madras sport jacket, pale blue polo, and khaki pants. But she wasn’t even paying attention to that, really. Where were Detective Donovan and Jennifer? They hadn’t gotten here yet, unless she was missing them in the crowd.

  She didn’t recognize a lot of these people. Not many of them were Hibiscus Pointers, that was for sure. At least, not so far. Carrie was already up there in the roped-off authors’ area with Parker.

  A long, velvet-skirted table was set up toward the back of a parquet dance-floor-type space. It held two microphones, piles of books for signing, and two brass holders. This time there were cards printed with both authors’ names. At least Carrie was getting equal billing this time.

  The sort-of debut author did look pretty happy as she stood there in a bright green retro dress with a swirly circle skirt, smiling out at the crowd. Every now and then, she gave a little wave and an even bigger grin.

  Summer looked around. Who was Carrie waving to? No one, she realized. The newbie was totally faking it, trying to make it seem like people knew who she was. Jeez.

  Behind the table, Parker—wearing all black, as usual—seemed too busy to look up. She was laying out postcards for people to take in front of Carrie’s book pile and placing bookmarks inside each title.

  “So, what exactly is this event, again?” Garrett asked. “I think I see a few Majesty members here. I’m sure they’d be happy to make some big donations, since your charity is such a great cause. Do you want me to introduce you?”

  Yikes. “Um, no, th
anks,” Summer said. “We don’t want to hit them up right away. You know, before the authors speak. That would be really rude, I think.”

  Where was Georgiana, anyway? She and Dash sure were taking their sweet time. “How about a drink?” Summer said. “It’ll take forever for the servers to get to us, but we could grab something at the bar. Oh, and I see a good friend of mine right near it. Let’s go.”

  She’d never been so glad to see Ernie. By the time she and Garrett joined him, Dorothy was also headed their way. Good. Now she and Garrett wouldn’t have to chat about nothing. Or worse, charity donations.

  “Nice to meet you, Garrett,” Ernie said, after she had introduced them and the guys had shaken hands. “Looks like our girl Summer here is taking a step up in the date department.”

  Summer felt her face grow hot as a fireball shot. What was that supposed to mean? Now she was probably the same shade as her bright pink dress.

  “Ernie!” Dorothy scolded as she reached their group. “Summer and this nice young man have just met, I believe. I’m Dorothy Westin,” she added to Garrett. “It’s lovely to meet you. Are you a fan of Georgiana Hamel’s?”

  “Not really, I’m afraid,” Garrett said. “I guess I’m just a fan of my gorgeous date here.”

  Oooooh. This was not good. Maybe she could talk Dash into playing the fake jealous ex-boyfriend. If he ever showed up. “How about that drink?” she asked Garrett. “I’d love a mojito with an extra stick of cane sugar.”

  “Sure,” Garrett said. “Anyone else?”

  “Chardonnay would be lovely, thank you,” Dorothy said.

  “I’ll step over to the bar with you, son,” Ernie said quickly. “I could do with another Scotch myself. What do you drink?”

  The tennis pro shrugged his wide shoulders. “Pellegrino, mostly. I’m pretty much in training year-round.”

  Ugh, Summer thought. She and Garrett were complete opposites, she could already tell. She was all for being healthy and everything, but…Where was Jennifer, for cripes sake? And Detective Donovan? Those were the two biggest straight arrows she knew.