Bookmarked For Death (Berkley Prime Crime Mysteries)

by Lorna Barrett

  "Yes. And it's well known she never sought the limelight. She didn't want to go on book tours, and was practically a hermit when it came to promotional activities. It was word of mouth that sold that first book--nothing Zoe did."

  "Sounds like you've followed her career closely."

  "Stoneham High hasn't graduated any rocket scientists. Apparently Zoe was our only star."

  "Have you shared your suspicions with anyone else?"

  "In the beginning I might have mentioned it to a few of my former colleagues--I've been retired for almost eight years now. But who listens to the rantings of an old English teacher?"

  I might, Tricia thought.

  Now to spring the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. "Do you think it's possible the real author of those books murdered Zoe?"

  Stella didn't even blink. "Why not? Stranger things have happened."

  Time to play devil's advocate. "But why wait until the last book was published?"

  "I've been pondering that same question. Zoe had been scarce in these parts since publication of the third book; I heard she moved down south. Rumor has it she only came back to Stoneham to sell her house."

  "Yes, she mentioned that at the signing the other night. Wouldn't it be ironic if the person who wrote those books is still here in Stoneham and has been waiting all these years to take her revenge?" Tricia blurted, finally voicing the theory that had been percolating in the back of her mind.

  The old woman nodded. "What makes you think it was a woman who wrote them?"

  "The real author?" Tricia said, a bit surprised that Stella hadn't immediately refuted her idea.

  "I assume you've read the books?" Stella paused and Tricia nodded. "Do you think a male author could've done justice to Addie's character, or the loss of her son in the mine cave-in?"

  "That depends on the author," Tricia said, surprised a former English teacher would even voice such a sentiment. "But Kimberly Peters told me someone--a man--called her to say I was spreading rumors about her and her aunt. And let me assure you, I have not been."

  "How do you know she was telling you the truth about the call?"

  Tricia opened her mouth to protest, and then just as quickly shut it.

  Stella nodded. "I'd be skeptical of anything that one tells you."

  "But she knows more than she's telling."

  "More than she's telling you. That's not to say she hasn't spoken to others."

  Sheriff Adams in particular, Tricia thought. Still, that was good--if it meant solving the crime and getting her store back open.

  "If all this is true, what could have happened that triggered the killer? If she wanted the glory, why wait until the last book was published to take revenge?"

  Stella looked like she was about to say something, then thought better of it and shook her head. "I'd be careful about mentioning Zoe's lack of creative talent and the idea she might not have written the books."

  "But wouldn't that be a credible motive for the killing? Giving the true author credit for those books?"

  "Yes, but getting the credit will also land that person in jail. There's nothing to be gained--unless Zoe was killed out of spite." Stella shook her head. "Whoever killed Zoe will do everything she can to remain anonymous. If I were you, dear, I'd let the sheriff handle this one. You wouldn't want to be the killer's next victim."

  e i g h t

  It was almost noon by the time Tricia returned from Stella's house. She opened the door to the Cookery and Angelica pounced upon her immediately. "Big news," she cried. Tricia could practically feel the waves of exhilaration emanating from her sister.

  Tricia wiggled out of her jacket. "Tell me about it before you jump out of your skin."

  "Bob just called. They've decided to change the whole dedication ceremony on Saturday."

  "Change how?" Tricia asked, heading for the closet at the back of the store.

  "It'll now be a memorial service for Zoe Carter."

  Tricia stopped. "What does that mean for the vendors?"

  "Vendors?" Angelica said, confused.

  "Yes. The dedication was supposed to be a celebration of books and how they saved Stoneham. It'll look pretty tacky if we're all set up around the square selling books, hot dogs, and fried dough. It sounds more like a circus than a memorial service."

  Angelica frowned. "Oh. Well, I'm sure Bob thought about that. He's a genius when it comes to PR. But don't you see, this is a great opportunity for you. Ginny said she'd ordered extra copies of Zoe's books. You'll make out like a bandit."

  "I don't know about that."

  "Um, Bob--or rather the Chamber--was wondering if you'd be willing to call some of Zoe's publishing colleagues and invite them to the ceremony. Like maybe Zoe's agent."

  Tricia was about to blurt a definitive "No," then thought better of it. What better way to find out more about Zoe than from people inside the publishing industry? "Maybe you're right, Ange. Bob just might be a genius after all."

  Since Ginny had gone out for a sandwich and was unavailable to talk about their Saturday plans, Tricia hiked the stairs to Angelica's loft apartment. A chatty Miss Marple met her as she opened the door, admonishing her for leaving her alone once again.

  "I know, I know. But Angelica serves food in her store. No cats allowed."

  "Yow!" Miss Marple protested.

  "I'll relay your dissatisfaction to the Health Department," Tricia promised.

  Miss Marple followed her to the kitchen, and Tricia filled her bowl with kitty treats.

  With the cat placated, Tricia picked up Angelica's kitchen extension before scoping out the fridge in search of sustenance for herself. Despite its being lunch hour, Tricia called and found Bob in his office at the Chamber of Commerce. "Hi, Bob, Angelica said you wanted to talk to me about the dedication ceremony," she said, and it was no effort to keep a smile in her voice.

  "Yes, the Chamber held an emergency meeting on it this morning, sorry you weren't able to make it--" Make it? She hadn't even known about it. But since she rarely went to Chamber meetings anyway, it wasn't a big deal. "Changing our focus to include a memorial ceremony for Zoe Carter is an opportunity we, as her adopted hometown, didn't feel we could pass up. And since we've already got everything set up for the dedication anyway, it's a win-win situation."

  "But what about the words carved on the statue?" she asked, looking past the scampi leftovers to root around in the back of the fridge. It wasn't really a statue. Tricia had seen drawings of the proposed piece. A big block of marble with a carved open book on the top.

  "Turns out they weren't able to do the engraving before the ceremony on Saturday, so we can still change what it says. How's that for luck?"

  Tacky. But Tricia wasn't about to argue the point. She withdrew a bowl of what looked like homemade soup, removed the plastic cover, and sniffed. It still smelled good. "Ange said you wanted me to contact Zoe's colleagues," she said, and opened a drawer to find a spoon.

  "Yes. They thought you, as a mystery bookseller, would have a better feel for who in the publishing world should be contacted."

  Oops! Deborah had suggested Tricia do the same thing the day before--but with everything else that was going on, Tricia had completely forgotten about it. She put the bowl in the microwave and punched in ninety seconds. "Did you speak to Kimberly Peters about this?"

  "Following in her aunt's footsteps, she declined to be involved, although she did say she'd at least show up," he said, his voice conveying his disapproval. "Will you help us, Tricia?"

  "Bob, I would love to. How soon do you need to know?"

  "We'd like to have the guest list set by tomorrow. Is that a problem?"

  "No. In fact, I'll start making calls as soon as I get off the phone with you."

  "Thanks, Tricia. This is a big help to the Chamber. And I'll see what I can do to nudge Wendy Adams about reopening your shop. She's stubborn, but she can see reason when it's pointed out to her."

  "I'd appreciate that, Bob. Thanks."

&nbs
p; She took notes as he repeated the details surrounding the dedication, which pretty much matched what she remembered from the Chamber's previous communications.

  "I'll get right on this and give you an update later today."

  "Thanks, Tricia."

  Tricia replaced the phone on its cradle and resisted the urge to rub her hands together with pleasure. Then reality set in. How the blazes was she supposed to get a hold of, let alone assure the attendance of, Zoe's colleagues? There was only one thing to do--hit the Internet to try to find some answers.

  The microwave stopped, giving a resounding beep, beep, beep, to let her know her lunch was ready, but Tricia was too hyped to eat. Instead, she went in search of her laptop computer, set it on the kitchen island, and connected to the Internet. Her first stop, Zoe's Web site. She checked out the media page and found pay dirt. Zoe's agent was none other than Artemus Hamilton. Tricia had met the short, balding man several times at cocktail parties during her years in Manhattan.

  A search of the Yahoo! Yellow Pages gave her Hamilton's office number, and she eagerly dialed the phone. An answering machine picked up after the third ring, directing her to leave a message. "This is Tricia Miles, owner of the Haven't Got a Clue bookstore in Stoneham, New Hampshire. I'm sorry to say that your client Zoe Carter died in my store on Tuesday night. Stoneham is having a memorial service in her honor, and we wanted to invite--"

  The phone clicked in her ear. "Ms. Miles? This is Artemus Hamilton. Thank you for calling."

  The man himself. No doubt he'd received some crank calls, or possibly had been hounded by the press since Zoe's death and found it necessary to screen his calls. Or perhaps his assistant was out to lunch and he was monitoring his own phone.

  "I don't suppose you remember me, Mr. Hamilton. We met several years ago at one of Sylvia Cranston's parties."

  "Sorry. I meet a lot of people." Oh, well. That was no doubt true. "What were you saying about a memorial service?"

  "Since Zoe was a longtime resident of Stoneham, we naturally want to honor her. We hope you and some of Zoe's other colleagues could join us on Saturday for a memorial service."

  "That's odd. I spoke with Zoe's niece this morning, and she said nothing about a memorial service."

  "I'm sure at the time she wasn't aware of the Chamber of Commerce's plans. You know Kimberly Peters?"

  "Yes, of course. I had dinner with Zoe and Kimberly on a number of occasions. Delightful young woman." He must've seen a side of Kimberly she hadn't bothered to show to the citizens of Stoneham. "What time is the ceremony?" he asked.

  "Eleven o'clock. It'll be outside, as there's also a statue dedication."

  "How on earth did you get a statue of Zoe made so quickly?"

  "It's actually a statue of a . . . a book." Boy, that sounded lame.

  "A book?" he repeated in disbelief.

  "Yes. It's really very nice," she lied. She hadn't actually seen it. "It's a big block of white marble with an opened stone book on the top." She flinched at her own words. It sounded ridiculous even to her.

  "Eleven's rather early to come up from New York. Perhaps I should arrive the night before. Is there anywhere decent to stay in Stoneham?"

  "I can recommend the Brookview Inn."

  "Can you e-mail me the particulars? I'll have my assistant book me a room as soon as she comes back from lunch."

  "Fine."

  "Where can I reach you in case I need to call?"

  Tricia gave him Angelica's number and that of her cell phone. "We'd also like to invite Zoe's editor. Would you be willing to share that number, or would you talk to him or her and have them contact me?"

  "I'll speak to him, and if he's interested he can get in touch with you. Thank you again for the invitation. I'll be in touch," Hamilton said and ended the call.

  Tricia got her facts together concerning the inn and e-mailed Hamilton's office, then checked that her phone was fully charged before heading down to the Cookery, where she found an impatient Ginny waiting for her.

  "Oh, good. You're back," Ginny said, and glanced over her shoulder to see if Angelica was close by and listening in. "Whatever you said to Angelica must've worked. She's hardly yelled at us at all today. Makes me wonder when I'll feel the stab of pain in my back when she reverts to type."

  "Ginny," Tricia chided.

  "Oh, sorry," Ginny hastily apologized. "I keep forgetting she's your sister. Anyway, while there's a lull, we'd better go over the plans for Saturday. Did you know they were changing the focus of the celebration?"

  "Yes. I've already talked to Bob Kelly about it, and he asked me to invite some of Zoe's colleagues. Her agent will be here on Saturday, possibly her editor as well. I'm waiting to hear."

  "That's great. Several members of the Tuesday Night Book Club have stopped by or called to ask if we should do something special in honor of Zoe."

  "You mean like flowers or something?"

  She nodded. "They're taking up a collection and thought it would be a nice touch, since most of them were among the last people to see her alive."

  And Tricia had been the one to find her dead. She gave a little shudder and tried not to think about it.

  "On our end," Ginny continued, "Mr. Everett managed to snag the UPS man and signed for the books for the dedication on Saturday. So at least we can set up shop and get a little income for the week."

  Tricia glanced around the store, spotted Mr. Everett speaking with a customer, and smiled. "I am so proud of you two. You've made this whole unpleasant situation much easier to take."

  "Thanks, Tricia. It's nice to hear a kind word." Ginny leveled a pointed glance at Angelica's back.

  "Has the sheriff or her team been anywhere near Haven't Got a Clue today?" Tricia asked.

  Ginny shook her head. "It doesn't seem like she's doing much in the way of investigating, as far as I can see, so why won't she let us reopen?"

  "Pure and plain nastiness."

  "Speaking of which," Ginny said, lowering her voice, her gaze wandering to a disapproving Angelica, who waited on a customer at the register. "Did you know Angelica threw away all of the gorgeous cookies Nikki sent over yesterday?"

  Tricia frowned. "Why?"

  "I think she was jealous. She said she wasn't going to serve someone else's products in her store."

  Angelica had made that perfectly clear the day before. "Well, they weren't sent here to be served in her store," Tricia said testily. "They were sent to me."

  Ginny giggled. "I hope you don't mind, but I grabbed a few before she tossed them in the Dumpster out back. I wrapped them up for later. Do you want a couple?"

  Tricia sighed. "With everything that's been going on, I've kind of lost my appetite. You enjoy."

  Ginny nodded. "So how are your inquiries going?"

  Tricia looked around the shop, making sure no customers were in listening range. "Don't say a word, because I have no proof . . . but several people I've talked to don't think Zoe was the author of the Jess and Addie Forever series."

  Ginny's eyes widened. "That's very interesting. And certainly a motive for murder."

  "Exactly."

  "Any hints on who did write them?" she asked, eagerly.

  Tricia shook her head. "Uh-uh. Not until I have more information."

  "Darn! Is there anything I can do to help you?"

  "Thanks, but no. In the meantime, I need to talk to Kimberly again. To see if I can pin her down." Tricia remembered what Frannie had said about Deborah and Kimberly possibly being classmates. Deborah and Ginny both had long hair. Could she have gotten them mixed up? "You weren't in high school with Kimberly, were you?"

  Ginny nodded. "But I didn't know her. She was a senior when I was a freshman--a much lower form of life. Eventually we all knew her by reputation, as the class slut."

  Which supported what Lois Kerr had said. "Do you think any of her friends still live in Stoneham?"

  "What friends? She slept with every decent-looking guy in the school. Not many of the girls would
even talk to her."

  How sad. Did she act out just to get attention--attention she didn't receive from Zoe?

  "I'd like to call her, but of course Zoe's phone number is unlisted, and all my contact information is locked up inside Haven't Got a Clue."

  Ginny pulled a little notebook out of her Cookery apron pocket. Tricia recognized it as one she usually carried in her Haven't Got a Clue apron. "I've got Zoe's Stoneham number. Why don't you call Kimberly now?"

  Tricia smiled. "Remember that bonus I mentioned earlier? It just got bigger."