Reading Between the Crimes

by Kate Young

  “Wow. I agree with Aggie Christie here. Some people are born wrong. I’m going to have to read that book.” Gran grinned and started clapping.

  “It’s Agatha, and yes, you definitely should read it.”

  “Well, I’m calling her Aggie. I’m sure all her friends did.” Gran bobbed her head around gleefully. “And I feel confident that she and I would’ve been besties.” She tapped her head. “Same mental thought processes.”

  I laughed and stood. “I guess that concludes this month’s meeting. We’ll have a poll up online for everyone on next month’s club pick, so don’t forget to check the web page.” I clasped my hands together. “And thank y’all so much for coming.”

  Darkness had fallen after I cleaned up, and I drove Gran home. My grandmother lived with my parents. She had moved in with us when I was thirteen, after my grandfather suffered a heart attack. She’d been a coconspirator in all my endeavors and remained one of my best friends. Mother always said she deserved a medal for allowing Daddy’s mom to move in with them. I always thought Gran was the prize. She certainly added a missing element with her presence.

  I turned onto Mother and Daddy’s street. They still lived in the same house I grew up in on a street of pre–Civil War, plantation-style houses. The structures were designed to handle Georgia’s hot, humid weather, with large, deep front porches that boasted comfortable rocking chairs and whirling ceiling fans.

  “You know,” I said, glancing over at Gran, “the idea is to read each month’s pick before the meeting.”

  “I like being surprised.” Gran flipped on the overhead light to read from the back of the book. “Amelia loaned me her copy of Crooked House, since I misplaced mine. Oh, this does sound like a doozy of a mystery. Listen to this. The Leonideses are one big happy family living in a sprawling, ramshackle mansion. That is until the head of the household, Aristide—” Gran hooted. “What kind of name is Aristide?”

  I laughed. “It probably wasn’t so unusual when the novel was written.”

  She wiped her eyes, still chuckling. “Aristide is murdered with a fatal barbiturate injection.” Gran sucked in a breath for effect before she continued reading. “Suspicion naturally falls on the old man’s young widow, fifty years his junior. But the murderer has reckoned without the tenacity of Charles Hayward, fiancé of the late millionaire’s granddaughter.”

  “I’ve read it, remember?” I shook my head, smiling.

  “Yeah, yeah. Well, now that I know what I’m in for, I’m going to read it.” She shoved the book into her handbag.

  “Speaking of books, Harper said you were late with returning your library books again.”

  “I know, I know. I keep forgetting. I left them in your parents’ new library. Maybe you can take them back for me. I won’t be getting by there this week.” She grinned over at me, knowing I would.

  “I didn’t know they finished with the construction of the library.” My parents were doing a little renovation on the main floor of their home.

  “Yep. It’s a beaut too.” Gran undid her seatbelt as I slowed down.

  “Wait for me to park.”

  “I’m all right.” She leaned forward, bracing her hand on the dashboard. “Looks like the event is still going on.”

  The street lined with cars forced me to park a couple houses down from my childhood home. “Wow. Mother must be raising a fortune tonight.”

  “She usually does.” Gran and I shut the doors.

  Gran tied the thin tie of her green sweater tighter around her waist. “I’d hoped this would be over by the time we got home. I’m not really in the mood to walk around and mingle with all those plastic smiles and stuffed shirts.”

  I looped my arm through hers when we met at the front of the car. “Oh, it won’t be so bad.”

  Lights from a white van flew out of Mrs. Ross’s driveway, nearly blinded us when they pulled on the street. Upon seeing us, the driver blew the horn. A squeak left Gran’s lips as I wrapped my arms around her and hauled us out of the road, and we nearly tumbled onto the sidewalk.

  “My God!” I stomped back onto the road. “You maniac!” I yelled at the van as it took the corner on two wheels. I could make out “Hewitt Electric” on the side as it passed by the streetlight.

  Gran came huffing up beside me. “We should report that nut!”

  “I will be.” I put my hands on my hips.

  Gran stretched, and I hoped I hadn’t hurt her when I pulled her from the road. “Things like that really get the old blood pumping.”

  “Me too, but not in a good way. You okay?”

  “Fine,” she said but rubbed her lower back. When she saw me notice, she looped her arm back through mine. “I’d rather have an ache in the back then end up in the morgue.”

  She had a point there. “What was an electric van doing on the street tonight, anyway? I can’t imagine an attendee showing up in a work van.”

  “I guess the Ross’s are finally getting electricity run to their carriage house. I think they got jealous with everything your mom is doing to the house. She’ll be hearing from me, and I’m sure she’ll tear the company a new one.” Our boots made clip-clop sounds as we walked up the lit bricked driveway, a necessity with the low-lit streetlights. “I love the Jane Does—they’re so fun. They’re more my crowd.”

  I couldn’t help the smile that creased my lips as I squeezed her. “They love you almost as much as I do.”

  We mounted the brick steps Mother had lined with gorgeous burnt-red mums and crossed through the large white pillars on the brightly lit front porch. Gran let out a little groan of dread.

  With my hand on the doorknob, I grinned. “There is a silver lining. Think of all that delicious catered food in the kitchen. You know how Mother always orders too much.”

  Gran’s periwinkle-blue eyes brightened. “See.” She pinched my cheek. “You get me.”

  The cacophony in the house hit us the second we crossed the threshold. My parents’ first floor had high ceilings, an enormous foyer, and a sweeping open stairway. Sound traveled easily in this house.

  The house was indeed packed. People mingled everywhere. The flow in the home was conducive to entertaining. We never used the grand dining room or the formal living room unless she hosted an event or holiday. The chef’s dream of a kitchen, located at the back of the house, would be utilized by caterers. Adjacent to the kitchen was the place everyone gathered, the great room. The floor-to-ceiling windows brought in abundant light in the daytime. Off to the left of the great room, Daddy had converted the library into his home office, which he always kept locked. His office is what had inspired the addition of the new library. I’d been overjoyed when Mother had allowed my input in the design. The room had been the maid’s quarters when the house was first constructed. With the expansion, it would open up onto a new patio with flagstone floors and a nice-size pavilion that included seating around the new outdoor fireplace. It would be a wonderful space when completed, and a perfect place to entertain. I was eager to get back there and have a look at the progress.

  A woman came down the staircase from the second floor and waved to her date. I supposed she used one of the six en suite upstairs restrooms. The house, furnished in custom-designed furniture to mirror something out of Southern Living magazine, gleamed.

  The mood lighting was perfect, and people everywhere were dressed for a black-tie event. The caterers were still weaving from room to room with trays of champagne and tapas. Clearly, to Gran’s chagrin, the event showed no signs of slowing. I’d get her settled, exchange a few pleasantries with my parents, and whomever else they’d insist I greet, then make my excuses and leave.

  Threading my way through the throngs of guests with Gran by my side, I waved and greeted as required. “Yes, I’m disappointed I had a schedule conflict. Am I proud of my mother and her efforts to raise money for the children’s wing at Daddy’s hospital? Exceedingly proud. No, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay for the silent auction. Yes, I still work fo
r my uncle. No, I’m not married yet.”

  “Y’all take care. Lyla and I are expected in the kitchen.” Gran saved me from a sweaty-handed gentleman who didn’t understand societal personal space rules.

  “Thanks.”

  “No prob, honey bun. I’ve got a major sweet-tooth craving. I hope Frances ordered those delicious double-chocolate truffles that were so popular at the literacy function.”

  As if conjured by Gran’s words, Mother strolled slowly through the dining room, chatting with a woman. She looked gorgeous in her navy evening gown. My mother fits in this setting like a hand in a perfectly tailored Bespoke glove. Frances Moody enjoyed volunteer work like no one else on the planet. Not having a job outside the home since marrying my father, she’d dedicated her life to helping those less fortunate.

  As I moved through the formal living room, I stopped in my tracks when I spied our chief of police, Quinn Daniels. It wasn’t my old boyfriend who caught my attention; it was who he had hanging on his arm. Piper Sanchez, who graduated with Melanie and me, was the reason for his attendance, I suspected. I stepped to the corner, fighting the notion that I was behaving creepily and watched as she gazed up into Quinn’s face, batting her long, dark eyelashes.

  There was no doubt when it came to Piper’s beauty. She was average height but way above average in figure, face, and hair. She had large brown eyes rimmed with those super long lashes, gorgeous olive skin, and a head of thick dark curls I’d kill for. The fact that men couldn’t resist her charms is what had gotten her the position of lead reporter at Sweet Mountain Gazette. Although I’m sure she’d made her career advancements with her tenacious personality and sharp wit, her beauty did seem to help folks spill their guts at the crook of her little finger. Well, perhaps I exaggerated a bit, but that’s how it seemed to me.

  “Where’d you go? Oh.” Gran leaned against my shoulder. “Looky who Quinn is snuggled up with.”

  “I wonder how long they’ve been seeing each other and what her angle is?” She’d never shown the least bit of interest in Quinn before.

  “Don’t know, but that gal changes men like the rest of us change our socks.”

  I let out a little chuckle that drew Quinn’s gaze. With a little wave, which he returned, I followed Gran down the long hallway. On the way, I glanced up at Mother’s latest artwork acquisitions from local artists. The piece was tastefully lit from above with a satin picture light. Exquisite.

  “I’ve got to run to the bathroom. Be back in a sec. If they’re getting low on those truffles, grab me some.” Gran scooted away at my nod.

  To my left, among the low chatter, I thought I heard sniffling. Pausing, I turned to see Harper wiping her eyes with a tissue. She stood there with the man I’d seen outside of Smart Cookie earlier this evening. He was tall, on the lean, wiry side, with dark brown hair and black square frames perched high on his nose. He ducked his head and spoke to Harper just as Mother came back into the room.

  Who is this guy?

  My pulse sped up. The way the man was regarding my mother had me on edge. His jaw was set, his head leaning forward in an aggressive posture. Her head jerked back slightly at something he’d said. Harper had stood there, watching the exchange with an odd expression on her face.

  I did not like this one bit. No one spoke to my mother in that manner. After two advancing steps forward where I’d intended to give that man a piece of my mind, Mother whipped something back at the man. Wow. He nodded, his face relaxing, and then moved on.

  Harper nearly crumbled when he left the room. Mother pulled her off to the side with a grip on her arm. I moved inconspicuously to the left, to keep an eye on them, and caught an exchange between them that I couldn’t make out. I could tell by Harper’s reaction that she took comfort in whatever my mother had said. She wiped her nose and tucked the tissue into her palm before giving Mother a single nod and lifting her chin almost resolutely.

  And I had no idea what to make of what I’d just witnessed.

  Harper noticed me after Mother, who hadn’t seen me, left the room. “Hey.” She glanced down at the bodice of her long black satin dress, where there was a damp spot. “I thought you weren’t coming tonight.” She began furiously wiping at it. Satin wasn’t a forgiving fabric.

  “I’m just dropping my grandmother home.” I focused on her trembling fingers. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes—no. Yes.” Harper glanced up and gave me a shaky smile. “Leonard and I had a tiff. He’s been avoiding me all evening.” She glanced around in search of her husband. Amelia’s concern seemed warranted now.

  “Who was—” I started to inquire about the gentlemen she and Mother had confronted, when Harper interjected. “I’m sorry, Lyla, but I really must find Leonard.”

  “Oh, okay. I can hang around if you want to continue our earlier discussion. I’d love to help you if I can.”

  “Thank you.” She nodded and rushed past me.

  I felt unsure of what to do next. On the one hand, I wanted to let Harper come to me in her own time. On the other, if her marriage was a dangerous one, I felt I should do more. I just didn’t quite know what. At the very least, I would be conducting a background check on Leonard Richardson.

  “Lyla, come on.” Gran pulled me from my thoughts as she swooped next to me and took me by the hand. “We’re going to miss all the truffles.” She dragged me through the dining room, where I craned my neck around, hoping to see where that man went. I also wanted to know who he was and what his business was here. And why in the world he’d been waving at me earlier.

  Gran shoved us through the kitchen door. “Jackpot.” She began moving around the workers and filling her plate with cream puffs, chocolate-dipped fruit, and her beloved chocolate truffles.

  I propped myself up at the end on the island, still thinking about Harper, the mystery man, and mother. I wondered if a domestic issue had occurred here, and as the hostess, Mother had gotten involved. Though, that didn’t quite jive—especially with local law enforcement present. It must not have been a severe altercation if one had occurred. Perhaps, like me, Mother saw Harper in tears and stepped in then. I’d hang around for a bit and do a little digging.

  I tried to stay out of the way as the caterers did their jobs, pouring myself a glass of red wine and nibbling on the truffle Gran insisted I try.

  Staff began weaving around us after Gran had eaten her third truffle.

  “Sorry,” I said to the man, trying not to glare at Gran behind him. “We’ll get out of your hair. Come on, Gran. I want to check out the new library anyway.”

  “Yeah, and grab those library books,” Gran reminded me.

  We moved down the small hallway off the kitchen and past the back staircase toward the open door of the new addition. “Someone left the door open. No one should be going in there since it leads to the back patio. It could be dangerous since it’s still being remodeled.” My parents had torn down their old screened-in porch, and the area could be hazardous.

  “We’ll close it back off after you have a gander inside,” Gran said while wiping her mouth with a cocktail napkin. “Brr. Do you feel a chill? I bet one of the crew left the back doors open. I’ll fix that.”

  The sound of breaking glass caused me to pause and take a couple steps backward. Then rough scolding came next. I glanced into the kitchen to see crystal shards all over the floor and the head chef chewing out one of the employees, who had started crying. Bless her heart.

  I shook my head and went back to Gran, who stood frozen at the doorway of the library. When I saw how pale her face was and that the desserts she’d been eating now lay in a heap at her feet, I almost panicked.

  “Oh God.” I rushed beside her and gripped her shoulders to peer down into her face, fearing the beginnings of a stroke. “Gran, speak to me!”

  Her lips were moving slowly, and I started to yell for help when she managed to utter in a gasp, “So … someone’s in th-there.”

  “What?”

  Slowly she lifted a
finger, pointing to the floor in the low-lit space. A candle burned on the small table beside the large floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelf. I squinted and took a step to move in front of her, stumbling over something in the doorway. A man’s sizeable brown loafer lay on the at my feet. With my knuckles, I slowly pushed the second French door further open. A little shriek left my lips. A body lay awkwardly in front of the Chesterfield and next to the fireplace. I spied bloody footprints leading out the open doors to the patio. “Oh no!”

  Gasps came from behind me.

  I glanced back to where Gran stood and saw the catering staff huddled together in shock. They’d seen more than a glimpse. “Everyone remain calm. You,” I said, pointing to the dark-blonde woman in a black chef’s coat, “dial nine-one-one.” I barely recognized my own voice. Her head jerked forward a couple of times as she pulled a cell phone from her pocket. “You,” I said to the man beside her, “don’t allow anyone else in here. And Gran”—she stared, blinking—“get Quinn and Daddy. Now!”

  Gran managed to regain her faculties and moved with a purpose. Having received my CPR certificate six months ago, I felt compelled to check on the man. Stepping over the long red blood smear, I moved closer to the body. Wind whipped into the room from the open back door, slamming one of the other doors. I jumped. He must have hurt himself and become disoriented going in the opposite direction of the door.

  Puddles of vomit lay where he’d collapsed. I did my best to step around them. The pungent odor of sickness and blood forced me to put an arm over my nose and mouth. My head spun. Get it together, Lyla. Bend down and check for a pulse.

  There was a long scratch where his watch should have been on his left arm that lay over half of his face. I also noticed his suit jacket appeared torn, and one of my mother’s brass candlesticks lay beside the man, the base covered in blood. Spots flew across my vision as I stooped down next to the body. Shaking my head, I focused on my task and checked for a pulse. Nothing.