Murder Between the Pages, page 14
Heat flushed her cheeks. Had everyone in town heard about her investigation? She gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry, I’m not taking over Detective Russell’s job. I merely told Zelma I’d keep an eye out for anything that might help catch the murderer.”
He peered from under his thick eyebrows. “Have you found something?”
“Nothing significant.” Nina pulled out a tissue and dabbed at the perspiration on her forehead. “But on that subject, I’m confused about who was where on the trail walk. You probably know I overheard Zelma and Wildeen plan to meet later?”
Burgess nodded. “Elizabeth told me about your eavesdropping.”
Nina bristled. “I didn’t intend to eavesdrop. I came upon them by accident.”
“Okay, but what’re you confused about?”
“Detective Russell and I wondered if anyone else could have overheard their conversation.” Nina hoped the addition of the detective would add authenticity to her query. “You were setting up a fallen sign, and Elizabeth remained at the bird feeder.”
“I couldn’t have overheard Wildeen and Zelma. The sign was at the other end of the woods from them.”
Obviously, he and his wife hadn’t coordinated their stories because Elizabeth insisted she and Burgess remained together on the walk. Nina tilted her head. “How do you know where Zelma and Wildeen were?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. Somebody told me. Maybe Russell.”
Just then, Patti Hamilton appeared in the hallway.
Josh took a step toward her. “Hey, Patti.”
Keeping her head averted, Patti brushed by him and continued down the hall.
“What’s the hurry?” Josh frowned.
“I have an aerobics class,” she called over her shoulder.
“Okay, see you afterward.” Josh waved his racquet.
Patti made no further reply as she hurried along.
Nina watched her until she turned a corner and disappeared.
“What’s with Patti?” Stephen commented when he and Nina were on their way to the locker rooms. “Is something wrong between her and Josh? They were cozy at the Bottses’ party.”
“They were, but she sure brushed him off today.”
Maybe Patti was still upset over Josh’s questionable business practices. Once again, Nina had the impulse to confide in Stephen. Still, she resisted.
Chapter Thirteen
The home of The Richmond Review was a one-story, white stucco building on Fir Street. Nina had been there many times when George Martin was the publisher, but today was the first time she’d had a tour.
Stephen began with the waiting area, furnished with inexpensive yet attractive chrome tables and matching chairs with black vinyl seats. Then he led Nina down a hallway, popping into offices and introducing her to staff. “Here’s where I hang out,” he said when they reached the last office. “Come in, and we’ll talk about the column.” He opened the door and motioned her to enter.
Nina stepped into the room. She quickly saw the clutter rivaled what she’d seen at his home. The desk was all but hidden under file folders, papers, and coffee mugs. Two side chairs held cardboard boxes, and the stuffed drawers of a metal file cabinet hung open. “How can you get any work done in this mess?”
Stephen laughed. “Because I know where everything is, and, besides, I can clean up at a moment’s notice. Like now.” He scooped up files, papers, and books from a straight chair and set them on the floor. “Here, have a seat.” He made a sweeping gesture at the chair.
Nina sat, balancing her purse on her lap.
Stephen went behind his desk and sank into a leather swivel chair. “Okay, down to business.” He took a folder from a stack on the desktop. “Here are copies of all your columns, which I have read.”
Nina shifted in her seat. Having her words under Stephen’s scrutiny made her uncomfortable. Why was his opinion important? She wasn’t like Wildeen or Zelma, who needed constant approval for their writing. She was a librarian hoping to interest people in books.
Stephen opened the file and paged through the contents. “The articles are well written, and each month has a theme, like this column on gardening books.” He held up a photocopied page.
His compliment brought a smile to her lips. “Themes give the articles focus.”
“I agree, and I’d like you to continue. You might ask your patrons for their recommendations.”
Warming to the idea, she nodded. “No doubt they’ll have suggestions.”
“Good. Then we’re agreed.”
They talked more about the column, the newspaper, and the library. Relaxed and comfortable, Nina lost track of time. When she thought to check her wristwatch, she saw the time was almost four o’clock. She scooted to the edge of her seat. “I should be going. You probably have work to do.”
He closed the file folder and returned it to the stack. “How about getting together later for dinner?”
“I hadn’t given dinner a thought.” Dinner usually meant foraging in the refrigerator to discover what was still edible.
He smiled. “We could go to a waterfront restaurant, one with a good view and tasty food.”
“But I—our business is over.” His suggestion sounded too much like a date. “We’ve discussed the column. What else is there?” She ended with a shrug.
“Oh, Nina, we could have a lot more.” He leaned forward. “I want to spend time with you. I think you feel the same way about me, although you’re not ready to admit it.”
She met his steady gaze. “You think you know me so well already?”
He nodded. “I do. What do you say?”
While she searched for an answer, Nina closed her eyes. Then an utterly outrageous idea popped into her mind. Her heartbeat raced. “All right, but why don’t we eat at my place?”
He sat back and stared. “Are you serious?”
“I am. But be warned dinner will be plain and simple. I’m not the cook you are.”
“I’ll bet whatever you make will taste just great. I’ll jump at the chance to visit you because you look like you might change your mind at any moment. What time should I be at your place?”
“When is your workday over?”
“Usually, around six.”
“Come any time after that.” She took a business card from her purse, added her home address and phone number, and held it out.
He took the card and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “See you then.”
After leaving the newspaper office, reality hit Nina, and her shoulders tensed. What had possessed her to invite Stephen to dinner? He might think she wanted to get to know him better, too. Did she?
No, but she was attracted. Her feelings went deeper than just liking his looks. She admired his good-humored patience with her attitude toward outsiders and his understanding her distress over Wildeen’s death. Plus, his relaxed and casual manner made him easy to be with.
However, now he was coming to dinner. What would she prepare?
On the way to her car, she decided to build her menu around the stuffed chicken breasts from the grocery store’s deli. She stopped at the store and purchased the chicken, along with a few other items. At home, she set the dining room table with her best dishes, flatware, crystal glasses, and cloth napkins. Six o’clock came all too soon. Nina ran from dining room to kitchen to living room, straightening anything that looked the least out of place.
The buzzer rang.
She answered, heard Stephen’s voice, and pressed the button to release the gate. Moments later, the doorbell chimed. Here goes. After checking her appearance in the hall mirror, she ran to open the door.
He held a bouquet of red and white carnations in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
Surprise—and pleasure—rippled through her. “Well, look at you. But you didn’t have to bring anything.”
“Tonight is an important occasion. Our first dinner together at your place.” He handed her the bouquet.
She took the flowers and led him down the hall to the kitchen. Rummaging in a drawer, she found the corkscrew. In the cupboard under the sink, she located a crystal vase large enough for the flowers.
Stephen uncorked the wine with the practiced ease of someone used to managing corkscrews.
“Something sure smells good.”
“Stuffed chicken breasts.” She opened a cupboard, took out two wine glasses, and set them on the counter.
He gave her a sly grin. “And you said you couldn’t cook.”
She shrugged. “The chicken we’re eating is from the deli. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He poured the wine. “Here’s to us.” He handed her a glass.
She wanted to say, “There is no us,” but the remark would be not only cliché but also rude. Instead, she nodded and touched her glass to his before sipping. The wine tasted refreshing. Picking up the vase of flowers, she led them into the dining room where she set the vase on the table. Then they went into the living room.
He stopped and gazed around. “You went to a lot of trouble to prepare for tonight.”
“Not really.” She surveyed the room.
He raised an eyebrow. “You mean your place always looks so neat and orderly?”
Nina stiffened. “What’s wrong with neatness? Having everything in its place comforts me.”
“Comforted is how I feel with disorder.” He laughed and placed a hand on a nearby chair. “Anyway, your condo has a good floor plan.”
“You’re welcome to see the rest of the place.” Oh, oh. Did she really want to take him upstairs to her bedroom and her study?
He nodded. “I’d like a tour. Maybe I’ll find ideas for my remodeling.”
She showed him the downstairs, including the flagstone patio furnished with wrought iron table and chairs and redwood tubs of geraniums, daisies, and marigolds. Upstairs, she allowed only a quick peek at her bedroom and then went to her study.
Stephen approached the bookcase housing her children’s books. “Ah, your collection. Did you get the book Wildeen had for you?”
Feeling a surge of pride, she opened a glass door, removed The Wizard, and held it out. “This book is the one.”
He set his wineglass on her desk before opening the book and turning the pages. “Very nice. I remember reading this story as a kid. Not a collectible edition like this one, though.” Tilting his head, he scanned the other titles. “You have some of Howard Pease’s books. I read The Jinx Ship and The Tattooed Man. My grandfather gave them to me.”
Surprised, and pleased they shared a common interest, she warmed toward him. “I acquired mine when I began collecting as an adult.”
Finished perusing her books, they went downstairs. At dinner, he told her about his hometown of Parkers Landing, Idaho. “The town is in the northern part of the state, only about thirty miles from the Canadian border. So you see, I’m really a Northwesterner at heart.”
“Do you have family there?”
He added another helping of steamed rice to his plate. “My older sister, Judy, and her husband, and their three kids. Our parents passed away ten or so years ago.”
Reflecting on how his family life had been different from hers, Nina sipped her wine. “Why did you go to New York?”
“I wanted to make a big splash as a journalist, and to do that I had to work for a large operation.”
“So did you? Make a big splash? At the athletic club, you mentioned investigative reporting.”
Smiling, he nodded. “A series of articles I wrote on organized crime received a Pulitzer nomination. Didn’t win, but the recognition was a great honor.”
“I’m sure it was,” she agreed.
They took their after-dinner coffee into the living room. He settled into an easy chair while she sat on the sofa. Conversation eventually led to Wildeen’s murder.
“Have you found out anything new?” He sipped his coffee, studying her over the rim of his cup.
Here was the perfect opportunity to take him into her confidence, but did she dare? Could she trust him? In the past, she would have chosen Wildeen or Zelma, but Wildeen was dead, and Zelma a possible suspect. Why not take a chance on Stephen? She set her cup and saucer on the coffee table. “I did learn something shocking about Zelma.” She launched into her discovery of Zelma’s plagiarism.
“That’s why you were at the police station this morning.”
Nina nodded. “I gave Pete Russell Love’s Eternal Triumph.”
“Confronting Zelma was risky.” Brow furrowed, Stephen studied her.
Nina squirmed under his scrutiny. Perhaps she shouldn’t have shared what she knew after all. “Russell mentioned risk, too. But, honestly, the thought never occurred.” She looked up and met his gaze.
A smile touched his lips. “Understandable, given the two of you are close friends.”
Nina twisted her fingers together. “Now, I wonder if I should have given the book to Russell. I believe Zelma is innocent, so why did I turn in evidence that gives her a motive?”
Stephen leaned forward and patted her arm. “You did what you thought was right. I’d have done the same thing.”
“You would?” The weight of guilt lifted from her shoulders. Then she sobered again. “Still, the book is on my conscience. What if the police arrest Zelma? I’m more anxious than ever to find the murderer.”
Stephen sat back. “Any new ideas?”
“Well, Josh Loring might be cheating his elderly female clients.” She told him about seeing Amanda Harper at Josh’s seminar, about Lily Ciliano at Marley Manor, and about her visit to Josh’s home and the conversation she overheard between him and Patti. “Patti’s knowledge of Josh’s scam might explain why she was so upset at the club today. If he knew Wildeen found out, too, he’d have a motive for her murder.”
“Makes sense. How about any of the others?”
“I had lunch today with Sondra Wagner, Zelma’s publicist. She admitted to being annoyed because Wildeen refused to give Zelma a book signing, but pointed out her refusal is hardly a motive for murder. I don’t consider Sondra a strong suspect.”
He tilted his head. “What about Burgess and Elizabeth Botts?”
“I found inconsistency in what each told me. She insists they were together during the trail walk, but at the club today, Burgess confirmed he left her to fix a sign. Elizabeth might be afraid Burgess overheard Wildeen and Zelma, too, and is involved in the murder.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know what motive he would have, though.”
Stephen picked up his coffee and sipped. “Burgess and Josh are pals. I see them together a lot at the athletic club.”
“Josh is Burgess’ financial advisor.” Nina pressed a finger to her cheek. “Hmmm, I wonder if Josh is cheating him. I hardly think he’d cheat a friend, but you never know.”
Stephen put down his cup and snapped his fingers. “The night of the party, I remember Burgess introducing Josh to Dorothy Quinn, head of…what’s her book group called?”
“Literary Lights.”
“Right. Anyway, Burgess said to Josh something like, ‘Here’s the little lady I’ve been telling you about.’”
Catching his excitement, Nina sat straight. “At Josh’s seminar, Amanda Harper told me Burgess recommended Josh. Lily Ciliano said Burgess introduced her to Josh, too.”
“I see a pattern…”
“I have some notes I think will help.” She put out a hand. “Wait here.” Nina went to the kitchen drawer and dug out her notes on the investigation. Returning, she handed the list to Stephen. “Here are the names on the file folders I saw in the Bottses’ library. Bell, Saunders, Emmons, Harper, Pedersen, and Quinn. Harper and Quinn could be the last names of Amanda and Dorothy.”
Stephen studied the list. “The files might contain information Burgess gathers on elderly women to pass along to Josh. He receives a cut in whatever Josh rips off, of course.”
Excitement quickened Nina’s pulse. “Then, if Burgess knew Wildeen discovered their scam, he had a motive for killing her.”
“Great theory…”
Doubt shadowed his eyes.
“But we have no actual proof.” She sat back and heaved a sigh.
Stephen handed Nina the notes. “First, one of the victims needs to press charges against Josh. From what you’ve told me, no one has realized she is a victim. They all think he’s wonderful.”
Nina, too, had noticed the women’s high approval of Josh. She bit her lower lip. “I wish we knew a way…”
“Let me talk to Dorothy Quinn.” Stephen leaned forward and clasped his hands. “She’s placed ads in our newspaper for her antiques store, and we’ve struck up an acquaintance. I’ll ask if she can suggest someone to help with my investments. If she says her financial advisor is Josh, and on Burgess’s recommendation, we’ll add her to our list.”
Nina felt her stomach tighten. She made a fist and pounded her palm. “If Josh is cheating his clients, he ought to be stopped.”
“Yes, but we need to proceed very carefully. If we accuse him and he’s innocent, we could be in big trouble. In the meantime, I’ll have one of my contacts run a check on your list of suspects, to see if any has a criminal record.”
“Great, Stephen. I’d appreciate the help.” They’d have to keep in touch, though. Would that be a problem?
Stephen studied her. “What will you do next?”
“Talk to Morry Snyder, although I don’t know what possible motive he would have. I doubt he knew Wildeen, other than meeting her at the party. But he might have useful information.”
“In the snooping business, one never knows where the answers will be found. Leave no stone unturned, as the saying goes. Here’s another tip.” He held up a forefinger. “If you aren’t satisfied with an answer, look at the situation from a different point of view. A new perspective might lead to a solution.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep your advice in mind.”
He looked at his wristwatch and stood. “Hey, I’d better get going. Don’t want to outstay my welcome.”
At the front door, he grasped both her hands. “Thanks for dinner and for the tour, and the talk—everything. I had a really good time tonight.”
