Grand Prize: Murder!

by Vivian Conroy

  Michael looked her over. “So at the book signing Saturday you already knew about the murder and you never let on.”

  He exhaled in an indignant huff. “I was there to look out for suspicious activity, someone who might have a grudge against your star author, and you knew there had been a killing the night before and you didn’t even tell me.”

  Vicky’s face flamed even more. “I couldn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t have needed any details. Just a mention that there had been a murder and…”

  “Then you would have wanted to know more anyway. Besides, I had promised Cash that I’d keep my mouth shut about it. It was my end of the deal to keep Bella out of jail over the weekend. I couldn’t break that promise. I needed Cash’s help. And I still do.”

  “Of course,” Michael said cynically.

  Vicky knew he had never quite accepted that Cash had made sheriff after a bet, something Michael considered tasteless and juvenile. But to her mind Cash had earned his position and deserved her trust in his abilities.

  To avoid further discussion, she changed the topic quickly. “How did Grace get her hands on old Gazettes to paste her own front page on?”

  Michael shrugged. “I guess she took them from the old paper depot. There are tons there. For the schoolyard fund.”

  “So she stole them.” Vicky saw a ray of light. “We can file charges and have her picked up.”

  “I doubt it. She will just deny having taken them. I know her. She is as slick as an eel. Besides, she will keep on reporting even if she is charged with theft. Cash can’t hold her for something as petty as the theft of a few old newspapers. An accusation will only make her even madder, and she will write up more dirt.”

  “So we do nothing and let her do this to us?” Vicky waved the incriminating paper. “I think we need at least some kind of statement that she is misrepresenting things.”

  “You talk to Paul DuBree about it. See what he thinks. He is the PR specialist.” Michael turned away and rearranged items on his desk.

  Vicky stared at his tight back. His abrupt response was like a bucket of ice water over her head. “You’re not going to fight her? You’re not going to …” Stand up for me?

  Michael waved a hand. “I know Grace. She won’t stop, no matter what you say. It will only make it worse. Just pretend she is not there. Ignore her. That hurts her ego. Maybe she’ll see she’s getting nowhere and will leave town again.”

  “You don’t believe that yourself.”

  Disappointment rushed through Vicky’s veins like wildfire. She slapped the rolled-up fake newspaper against her thigh. “That’s your final word? You’re not going to do anything?”

  “Like I said, it will only make it worse.” Michael picked up a file folder and began to leaf through it. A dismissal if I ever saw one.

  Vicky straightened up. She tried to keep the anger out of her voice and just sound determined. “I don’t see how it could get any worse. Grace Dinks is suggesting I set this all up to make money, that I should be in a cell, and that I’m only walking about free because I am dating the sheriff! Well, if you don’t intend to do something about that, I will. I’ve got her phone number at the Fisherman’s Haven, and I will call her and give her a piece of my mind.”

  Vicky marched off, fully expecting Michael to overtake her, grab her arm, say he didn’t mean it that way and he’d help her solve it, that together they could…

  But Michael did not come.

  At the store Marge was waiting for her, holding the same forged Gazette. “I can’t believe this,” she spat. “Who is this person dead set to slander you?”

  Vicky shrugged. “Michael thinks it has to be Grace Dinks. And he’s probably right. Who else would do this to us?”

  Marge sighed. “Can we stop her?”

  “We can certainly try.” Vicky picked up the phone. She extracted the number the clerk at Fisherman’s Haven had given her and called. Grace answered readily.

  “Vicky Simmons here. I assume you have your own newspaper now, Glen Cove Live?”

  Grace laughed, soft and throatily. “How do you like my first headline? Catchy, huh? In fact, the entire front page is readworthy.”

  Vicky’s blood started boiling again. “I think you’re going too far. If you want to pursue the facts about the murder case, fine. But stop speculating, and hurting people.”

  “You sound upset.”

  Vicky took a deep breath. “I am.”

  “And you should be,” Grace said low. “You deceive innocent people. You make money behind their backs.”

  “I’m not making any money at all. Nor is Bella Brookes. Everybody could enter the scavenger hunt for free.”

  “Not exactly. They had to buy Bella Brookes’ latest book first. It was supposed to be vital to the scavenger hunt and finding the right solution. But that is a lie. The book takes place in the UK like all others in the series. The murder scenario in the scavenger hunt focuses on Glen Cove. A nice local touch, I admit, but at the same time a fatal flaw. There is no tie-in with the book’s setting or story line whatsoever.”

  Vicky stood motionless. She didn’t want to accept that anything the poisonous Grace said could be the truth, but in the back of her mind doubt began to niggle.

  During the announcement of the scavenger hunt last Saturday DuBree had indeed intimated that participants needed the book. But in the current scenario it seemed unlikely the book provided any clues at all.

  DuBree might just have wanted to use the excitement surrounding the hunt to sell extra books. No matter how you looked at it, that came dreadfully close to deceiving innocent people.

  She blinked hard and swallowed.

  “Do you deny it?” Grace asked triumphantly.

  “I didn’t know what the scavenger hunt would be like when I agreed to it. I never knew that…”

  “So you admit Paul DuBree tricked you into participating? He never told you the full truth?”

  I doubt he ever tells the full truth about anything, Vicky thought cynically.

  Grace said, “But no, let’s discuss the real driving force behind this whole scam. Who suggested the hunt to you? Not DuBree. You did not know him at first. It was Bella Brookes, who had forced herself upon you as your guest author. As soon as she heard you had a store here, she invited herself over for a visit. First it was just the book signing, then the scavenger hunt added to it. She offered you a so-called wonderful chance to get publicity for your newly opened gift shop, but it was all about her.”

  Grace sounded vicious. “You bought her nice act, being kind and generous and fun. Most people do who don’t know her well. But she is a bitch who treats her staff like dirt. You should really get to know her. Then you’d never want to touch one of her books again.”

  And she disconnected.

  Vicky exhaled slowly. The conversation hadn’t turned out at all like she had wanted. She had not convinced Grace to stop it but only given her more incentive to go on.

  She reached up and covered her eyes. Her fingertips felt icy cold against her face. Her legs were full of jelly, and she just wanted to cry.

  Marge’s hand touched her shoulder. She asked softly, “I suppose she is not going to stop, huh?”

  “No.” Vicky lowered her hand and faced Marge. “She is full of hatred toward Bella. She intends to destroy her completely. Using you, me, Michael, Cash or whomever she can use for it. We are just the tools, for her little revenge.”

  Vicky banged her fist on the counter. “I wish I knew a way to stop that woman.”

  Marge’s forehead furrowed. “What is her gripe against Bella? Is it just jealousy?”

  “I’m not sure.” Vicky went over the conversation in her head. “She said something about treating her staff like dirt. But I doubt that Grace Dinks cares about staff. She never cared about those laborers either whom she visited in Marseille or about the kids who get roped into drug gangs. Everything is a scoop to her, a rung up the ladder. We are all just stepping stones for her career.�
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  Vicky put the phone away with a regretful sigh. “I should not have called her. Now she has even more to go on. Most of all, she knows I’m upset about it and that will just push her to try even harder. Michael was right—we should have ignored her. He dealt with her before so I should have trusted his judgment.”

  She had allowed her disappointment over Michael’s response to drive her own actions. Causing even more havoc.

  Now she felt terrible both for baiting Grace and for having to face Michael again knowing she had ignored his judgment and made the situation worse by her pigheadedness.

  He was already angry with her because she hadn’t told him about the murder when they had seen each other at the book signing on Saturday afternoon. He had a point that he had been there to look out for her and she had kept the recent developments from him. How would she have felt if Michael had kept something major from her?

  Deceived probably.

  She wanted to make up for her mistakes, but had no idea how.

  She wasn’t even sure these mistakes could be put right again.

  In the meantime, Marge was rereading the fake front page and looked up with a bemused expression. “You know what is really odd?” She stabbed the page with a finger. “I already had a feeling earlier when I read it for the first time that something was missing here. But I couldn’t think up what it was. Now I know.”

  Vicky held her gaze. “What? I didn’t miss anything. There is enough there that should never have been printed. I don’t see what should have been there that is not.”

  “Think about it.” Marge held up the newspaper. “Grace says nothing about the missing assistant Lisa Coombs. Not a single word. Now isn’t that strange? If there is a murder and someone involved just disappears, that’s news, right? Why wouldn’t she follow up on that angle or at least mention it? It would be a great source of speculation.”

  “It just proves our point,” Vicky said gloomily. “Grace doesn’t want to speculate about just anything, she wants to speculate to incriminate Bella, DuBree and me. We are her chosen victims for her slander campaign.”

  “Well, then her approach proves she is not objective and not out for a scoop. I mean, any scoop. She is after heads. And maybe that is her weak spot.”

  Marge pursed her lips. “I have to think about this a little longer, but maybe we can distract Grace. Send her in the wrong direction. Throw up a smoke screen, while we go after the real killer.”

  “I don’t feel up to a brisk investigation. I haven’t even had breakfast. I rushed out with that stupid forged paper.”

  “I’ll get you a chocolate croissant at the bakery. Then we have to dig in. The only way to save our reputations now is by finding the real killer and proving Bella had nothing to do with it.”

  Vicky exhaled. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Marge nodded. “Of course I am. And the first thing we need is the details on the crime the murdered man accused Bella of. We still don’t know if there was any truth in it.”

  “Cash was going to look into it. But I have no idea if he has. There have been so many things coming up that I can imagine it slipped his mind.”

  “Well, then you better remind him of it.” Marge gave an emphatic nod. “And since you are unofficially Cash Rowland’s girlfriend, you might as well try and coax some other information out of him.”

  Vicky stared at her. “You don’t believe that garbage about Cash and me dating, do you? Or that I’m still walking about free, because Cash is shielding me?”

  Marge laughed. “Of course not. I know you’re just friends and the whole dating idea is wild speculation. But Cash does like you and he respects your judgment. If you handle him right, he might be willing to share a little. Then we have more to go on.”

  Vicky raked through her hair. “I feel awkward going to the police station. I feel like Grace Dinks will be behind a bush to snap a picture of me as I go in. She has to have spies everywhere to know exactly what is going on.”

  “People like to gossip, and she listens well.” Marge shrugged. “And you don’t have to go to the police station at all.”

  “Not?”

  “No. Look, it’s Tuesday, which means they have fresh clam chowder at the restaurant along the interstate. Cash is bound to go there for lunch. He always does. You go there too and join him. Then get something out of him. Offer a trade-off.”

  “A trade-off?” Vicky echoed. “What do we know that Cash can possibly want?”

  “I don’t know. Make something up as you go along.” Marge waved a hand. “We need more on the victim to determine who had a motive to kill him. Now go home, change into a nice dress and go to that restaurant.”

  Vicky sighed. “You make me feel like Barbara Bain in Mission Impossible. Use the lethal charm.”

  “Well,” Marge said, “this better not be a mission impossible, or we could be having some serious trouble.” She pointed at the store window. Vicky spied outside and saw some locals standing at the other side of the street talking. They cast angry looks at her store.

  Vicky’s throat constricted. Grace Dinks’ conniving made people suspicious and increasingly hostile. She wanted to save her reputation more than anything in the world.

  Not to mention Bella, whom she still considered a friend. Grace had accused the cozy author of being fake and rude, a user of all the people around her and her readers foremost, but Vicky was not convinced. She needed to find out what was behind all of this.

  So after Marge had sneaked out to get her a chocolate croissant and an apple-cinnamon muffin for breakfast, Vicky unpacked a few boxes with china and scarves, then cycled back home to find a dress that would not scream ‘setup’ and still do the trick.

  She also needed her mother. If she came into the restaurant alone, Cash would smell a rat at once. She had to pretend she was taking Mom to lunch. She only hoped Claire would want to cooperate!

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I still don’t see why I should be doing this,” Claire groused. She sat in the passenger seat of Marge’s car, holding her dogs in her lap. “Lunch is expensive there, and it can’t compare to the diner. It’s typical for Cash Rowland that he goes to an out-of-town place that isn’t half as good and twice as pricey. He’s always trying to show off.”

  “Mom, I told you. I need to talk to Cash for information. You are my reason for being there. Now you act nice and innocent.” Vicky glanced at her mother. “I know you asked me to stay out of it but I can’t. So much has been said about the scavenger hunt, my guest author, my store. I have to sort it out, also for Bella’s sake. But with that fake paper writing about Cash and me dating rumors might fly as soon as we are seen together. We have to pretend I’m taking you to lunch there and we only run into Cash by coincidence.”

  Claire shifted her weight in the seat, clearing her throat. “The newspaper hardly said you were dating the sheriff. I doubt that Glen Cove is interested in something like that.”

  “The fake newspaper.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The fake Gazette that got delivered this morning. Now called Glen Cove Live.”

  Claire shook her head. “Mine looked just like it always does.”

  Vicky sat up, clenching the wheel. “You didn’t get a newspaper called Glen Cove Live writing about the murder case with a lot of wild speculation about me, Bella, Cash?”

  “No, and neither did any of my friends or they would have called me about it. What fake paper? What did it say exactly?”

  Vicky sat motionless, processing this new information.

  She had supposed Grace Dinks had spread the fake front cover all over town. But maybe the woman was smarter than they gave her credit for. She had only distributed it to Michael, Vicky, Marge, the Joneses right opposite the Country Gift Shop, and a few other carefully selected people.

  DuBree also, Vicky bet.

  It was just meant as provocation to get them to issue a public statement and make things even worse. Grace needed reaction, escalati
on. Explosion?

  “Thanks, Mom, that is just what I needed to hear.”

  Claire shook her head. “I don’t see what you’re so happy about. And bear this in mind: if you ever go dating the sheriff, I’d better not have to hear it from others. You tell me first.”

  “No risk of that, Mom.”

  Feeling much better, Vicky parked Marge’s car and got out. Claire followed her spluttering about not being taken seriously. Mr. Pug and Coco tagged along, sniffing all the exciting scents of these new surroundings.

  Inside the restaurant it was crowded already, and Vicky looked around for Cash. She spotted him right away in a booth with his deputy. She had sort of hoped he’d be alone and bit her lip. Could she act the way she had planned with that other guy present?

  Claire pushed past her. “There he is. Come on.”

  She strode ahead of Vicky and halted at the booth. “Oh, hello, Sheriff. May we join you? Such a nice day, for a drive. I had asked Vicky a dozen times before to take me out, but she is so busy lately, never has the time. Today I made her. Just like that.”

  Claire smiled at the deputy. “Dear me, you look like an energetic young man. My dogs really need a little walking in the parking lot. I have a touch of rheumatism and I would really prefer they did get some exercise.”

  “Take the dogs out,” Cash ordered at once, and the young man rose, accepted the leashes and tried to take the dogs along, who were reluctant to leave Claire and the promise of food.

  When he was gone at last, Claire had already taken his seat and smiled encouragingly at Cash. Vicky sat down beside her, feeling uncomfortable and uncertain. This was like a blind date night, with your mother sitting beside you judging how you did.

  She bet Claire would have a lot of comments on the way back home!

  “Clam chowder here the best in the county,” Cash said.

  “Diner is much better,” Claire objected and then probably realizing it was odd she had not gone to the diner then, added in a rush, “But the drive out here is so nice. I get out so little. The disadvantage of not having your own car.”

  “So whose car did you take?” Cash asked. “You don’t have a car either, do you, Vicky?”