“Meowwwwww,” was Emily’s astute reply.
Kate came over and ran a hand down the cat’s back. “Yes, if only the girls could talk, they’d tell us exactly who was in here and killed Blake. Wouldn’t you, Em? When should we have our tea?”
Grace put a squirming Emily down. “We don’t want it too close to Christmas, people will be busy.
“How about the 15th?” Kate asked. “It’s after Blake’s funeral, but a full ten days before Christmas. And we can do your Blind Date with A Book idea, except all the books will be Christmas-themed, and instead of wrapping them with brown paper, they’ll be wrapped in Christmas paper.”
“Good idea,” Grace agreed. “We’d better get moving then. We have quite a few books to wrap.”
She’d read about a bookstore in Ireland that had done a Blind Date with A Book event, and it sounded like terrific fun. She and Kate would choose books, wrap them in plain brown paper--Christmas paper now-- tie a bow on them, and write a few descriptive sentences on the attached tag and let people choose books based on that. It was a gamble for the buyer, but a great way to experience different genres and authors. “I was thinking.”
“That sounds positively dangerous,” Kate teased.
“Ha ha!” Grace stuck her tongue out at her twin. “I’m serious.”
“Ok.” She glanced at her watch. “We’re probably going to have another busy day, so tell me before you forget.”
“I think we need to look into Blake’s life ourselves. Ian seems more or less convinced we killed him. Or that I did. What other suspects does he have?”
Kate slid her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought. “You want to play detective? Where would we start?”
“Let’s start with his agent. She was close to him. We can look online, too. Someone killed him and it wasn’t us.”
“I’m game. Do you want to contact his agent? Alice, right? Or should I?”
“I’ll call her. Maybe you can call his sister? I’ll get her number from Alice. I’m sure Ian won’t gleefully turn it over. Blake never talked about family, did he? Other than his three ex-wives. That’s sad. You know, we really didn’t know a lot about him.”
“Now that you mention it, other than his books, and the fact that he loved Black Cat Books, and wanted to be a silent partner, we didn’t. Do you think there’s a reason he wanted to be a silent partner? I mean, other than what he told us?”
Grace frowned. “I don’t know. What reason could there be? We knew him as a best-selling author, a good friend, and Black Cat Books fan and supporter. I’m sure there was more to him than that. We’ll have to start digging. I know he had a house in Brookhaven and a house in Florida. Do you think it’s strange he never invited us to his home?”
“Not really. He always came here. I never thought about it one way or another.” Kate grimaced. “I certainly hope the fact that Ian thinks we may be suspects doesn’t make it to the newspaper, or the national news. It could be bad for the bookstore. And our reputations. People will say they believe we’re innocent, but you know the saying, where there’s smoke, there’s fire. I can’t say I’d want to shop in a store that was owned by suspected killers.”
“Please! No one is going to believe we killed him. We grew up here, mom and dad are pillars of the community. We never even skipped school. I’ve never had a parking ticket, or a speeding ticket. Have you? We’re pathetically boring. Now suddenly we’re murderers?”
“I believe that’s murderesses probably,” Kate clarified. “You forgot to mention our timely return of library books.”
“That, too,” Grace’s head bobbed up and down in agreement. “And we have resting nice faces.”
“What does that mean?” Kate looked thoroughly confused.
“You know. When you’re feeling calm and serene, but your face looks like you want to bite the head off the next person that says hello to you, it’s called a resting bit—”
“Ah, okay,” Kate cut in. “Yes, I’ve heard of that.”
Their discussion was interrupted by customers, but Blake’s murder was never far from Grace’s mind as she gave recommendations to people looking for new authors to read, and rang up purchases. She was still convinced that Ian was holding a grudge against her for canceling their wedding.
She eventually purged Blake’s murder, and Ian, from her mind and focused on absorbing the Christmas spirit in the air. Luckily, none of their customers brought up Blake. She didn’t think she could stand talking about it.
The Christmas jam was almost sold out, and all the advanced, autographed copies of Riddle Me Dead had been bought. Grace wasn’t exactly upset to see them go. They were a stark reminder of what had happened. The book seemed to be at the top of everyone’s list now that its author was dead.
During a lull in activity, Grace went upstairs to the office. She turned on the computer. Maybe they should’ve done more research about Blake before allowing him to become a silent partner. But they’d had no reason not to trust him, she argued with herself, and Kate’s husband, Jeremiah, had approved of their contract with him. He wouldn’t have done so, and let them sign it, if he’d thought something was amiss with it.
She suddenly had a horrible thought. What if the person who’d killed him was planning on coming back for her and Kate? What if they’d really been after her, or Kate, and killed Blake because he happened to be here, and in the way? No, that made no sense, she chided herself. Who would want Kate and her dead? Did Ian want her dead? Had he killed Blake in order to pin it on her? Stop it, Grace, she told herself. She was being ridiculous now.
Once the computer was up, she looked up Blake’s agent’s information and punched the number into the phone. Braddock Literary Agency was located on Lakeshore Drive in Chicago. Grace loved Chicago. Lakeshore Drive was stunning. She could picture his agent’s office in one of those fancy hi-rises with a view of Lake Michigan.
“Good morning. Braddock Literary Agency.”
“Good morning. My name is Grace Danning. I’m calling to speak to Alice Braddock regarding Blake D’Arcy. He was a business associate.”
“One moment please.”
Grace hummed along to the Christmas music while she was on hold.
“Alice Braddock.” A voice tinged with faint British accent came on the line. “I understand you’re calling about Blake D’Arcy. Are you the police again? A detective, or someone from the police, called me already about this.”
“No, I’m not with the police. Thank you for taking my call, Ms. Braddock. I’m a friend and business associate of Blake’s. He recently became a silent partner in the bookstore I own with my sister. It’s called Black Cat Books. You must be so upset about his death. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry that he died, yes, of course. But I am no longer his agent. He fired me last week.”
Grace was stunned to say the least that Blake had fired the woman who had grown his career and been so good to him. He’d never had anything but nice things to say about Alice. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” What did one exactly say in this situation?
“Yes, well, I most certainly had no idea that was coming, either. He was my biggest client. He’s been pretty much my only client for a quite some years now. We were having a fabulous run together. I’d stopped taking clients long ago because I’ve been concentrating on him. So, what does he do? He fires me. I had no idea he could be so selfish and ungrateful! I was utterly shocked.”
“Did you tell the detective you spoke to this?” Grace wanted to know.
“No. I didn’t mention it to the detective. Why give him a reason to think I was the one who killed Blake in fit of anger? It wasn’t as if I was trying to hide anything, but the less you say to the police the better, don’t you think?”
Grace was really at a loss for words. “I can imagine you would be upset with Blake, but I don’t think the police would charge you with murder. Your agency will be okay, right?”
“I hope so.” She exhaled noisi
ly into Grace’s ear. “I’ll be looking for clients again. I’ll never find another Blake, that’s for sure. That man! If he weren’t already dead, I’d kill him! I’ll still get royalties from his books, but who knows, those could dry up and leave me with nothing. I’m too old to try and build my agency back up. I never saw this coming, believe me.”
She tried changing the course of their conversation. “Do you know of anyone who knew that he’d be in Sweetwater?”
“I knew he’d be there. He told me that when you first invited him, a few months back. I’d forgotten your name, but it sounds familiar now. He used to always check in with me. We had lunch sometimes. He’d pop in anytime he came to Chicago. He was a big Cubs fan you know.” She sniffled.
“That’s what really hurts. We were friends, or I thought we were friends. But when he fired me, that was that. He cut me out of his life completely. Any business I had with him had to go through his attorney. That brain surgeon!”
“Did anyone else know he’d be in town?” Grace repeated.
“He may have told any amount of people. I have no idea.”
“Did he say exactly why he fired you?” Grace hoped she wasn’t being too nosy.
“He thought our relationship had run its course, that I was stuck in an old agenting model, whatever that means. As if he would know anything about agenting. Hah! He didn’t think he was getting enough attention, he didn’t trust me, he disagreed with my plans for his career. I think he grew tired of me. Like he tired of his wives. We’re all disposable.”
Grace felt sorry for the woman. She was trying to play it off, but she could hear the hurt in Alice’s voice. “Do you have any idea who may have wanted him dead?”
Alice cackled harshly. “Besides me? I’m kidding. Don’t take that seriously. Maybe Alissa. That woman was a piece of work.”
“Who’s Alissa?” Grace was all ears.
“Ex-wife number three. She married him for his money. Blake had her sign a prenup. She went ballistic, but she ended up signing it, I guess. He cheated on her more than once. I gave him an earful about that, believe me. But who was I? Just his agent. He didn’t care about my opinion. Anyway, she gave up her career as a prima ballerina to be Mrs. Blake D’Arcy.
“It didn’t turn out like she planned. She got almost nothing in their divorce. I guess you don’t read the newspapers, or watch the news, or you’d know all this. It was her fault for giving up her career. I can't see her killing him for revenge, but maybe she did.”
“What about his other two wives?” Grace was beginning to think Blake’s life was a true soap opera.
“Wife number two is in prison for embezzling money from his retirement plan, so she didn’t kill him. I suppose she could’ve had him killed. The only decent woman he married was wife number one. What was her name? Calliope? Clementine? Something like that.
“Now she was a real sweetheart, that one. A farm girl from his hometown. He dumped her after he became famous. She couldn’t have killed him, I’m sure of that. She was too sweet. She doesn't have it in her to hurt another human being, so don't even go there.”
“Anyone else?” Grace was finally able to break into Alice’s monologue.
“I haven't got a clue. Blake and I were close, I thought, but now that I think about it, I did most of the sharing about my private life. Not him. Funny, I never noticed that until now. The time of death supposedly was early in the morning. I told the detective I was home, asleep. Alone. He seemed to view the fact that no one could vouch for my whereabouts a serious character flaw.”
Grace let her talk. There was really nothing else to add. Alice Braddock certainly could have traveled almost three hours from Chicago to Sweetwater to kill Blake at the bookstore, then skedaddled out of town, but what proof was there?
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Alice asked. “I’ve talked to you more than I did to that detective. He was rather intimidating. He told me not to leave town, that he may make a trip up to speak to me.”
“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about,” Grace told her, even though she had no way of knowing that. “Would you have his sister’s phone number?”
“I gave it to the detective, so I have it here somewhere. Yes, here it is. Blake listed her as an emergency contact. Her name is Susannah Ellington. This was before he was married, the first time, I mean. He never updated his information.”
“So, his royalties go to her?”
“That I don’t know. I didn’t handle his will since I'm not an attorney, and Blake didn't share that with me. That you would talk to his attorney about. If that’s all…?”
Grace could tell Alice had grown weary speaking with her. “Thank you so much for talking to me. Would you mind calling me if you think of anything else? Even the smallest detail?”
“I don’t mind. I’ve got your number here on caller ID. Are you sure you’re not the police, though? You certainly sound it.”
“No, I promise I’m not the police. I didn’t mean to sound as if I were grilling you. It was so shocking to have him turn up murdered in our bookstore.”
“I imagine it was. I’ve got to go scare up some clients. Merry Christmas, Grace.”
“Thanks, you too.”
CHAPTER 7
* * *
“What all did she say?” Kate wanted to know.
It was early afternoon. The sisters were using the lull in the absence of customers to have a cup of tea and some Scotch shortbread that Kate had made during the fall, then frozen to bring out at Christmas time. Their great-grandmother’s Christmas cookie recipes were closely guarded secrets by the sisters. They never gave them out to anyone.
“He fired her as his agent,” Grace revealed, then proceeded to repeat her conversation with Alice.
“Seriously?” Kate squawked, looking dumbfounded. “He fired his agent? Why didn't he tell us?”
Grace slipped out of her loafers and put her feet up on the coffee table. “I don't know. I’ve got the feeling that we didn’t know Blake really well.”
Kate took a sip of her tea. “Do you think we were blinded by his fame, and in your case, his fame and charisma, and didn’t dig deep enough before we signed him on as a silent partner?”
“Please don’t tease me about my crush on him, Kate. It’s not relevant to anything. I feel totally embarrassed by it.”
“I wasn’t, honestly. There’s certainly no reason to feel embarrassed. If he wasn’t interested in the most fantastic woman in the world, it’s his loss. My point was that maybe we were so bowled over by his attention that we didn’t do our research.”
“Thanks for the compliment. Are you saying he was some sort of criminal and we never noticed, that’s why he’s dead?”
“Goodness sakes, no! I’m not saying that at all. Oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”
“I know. You don’t have to explain. I feel all discombobulated myself. But between Ian probably thinking we, or at least I, killed him, his poor agent getting fired, and his ex-wives, there’s something sinister lurking beneath the surface.”
Kate smiled. “That’s the first line from Blake’s novel, Farewell to Brooklyn.
Grace smiled, too. “Yes, it is. It’s one of my favorite books of all time.” Her smile vanished. “I think we need to find who was closest to Blake. That will lead us to his killer.”
Kate’s mouth dropped open. “We? Us? Are we investigating his murder now?”
Grace swung her feet off the table and set her teacup down. “We have to do something. We can’t wait for Ian. His eyes are on us, remember? I have his sister’s number. Do you want to call her? Her name is Susannah Ellington. At the very least we should call and offer our condolences.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Yes, we should offer our condolences. I’ll call her this afternoon.”
“I wonder if she's his heir as far as royalties,” Grace mused. “You don’t think she needed the money and killed him, do you?”
“I sell bo
oks. I don’t think anything. Murder is a whole new game for us, and not a particularly pleasant one.”
“It’s not, I agree, but we should call her now.” Grace jumped up. “While we aren’t busy. Put her on speakerphone.”
“Oh, she’ll love that, I’m sure. Everyone likes being on speakerphone.”
“Your sarcasm is charming. I know they don’t, but that way we can both talk to her. Let’s do it.”
Kate sighed then gave in. “If that’s what you want. Go ahead and dial.”
She did, and they waited while it rang.
“Hello?” a woman finally answered.
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