Murder Between the Pages, page 8
Catching each other’s eye, the two smiled and nodded. A few minutes later, when the participants introduced themselves, Nina learned her name was Amanda Harper. Something else about the woman tugged at her memory, but before she could bring the information to mind, Josh moved on to the next person.
Josh gave each participant his undivided attention. He asked questions designed to make them feel at ease. The man simply oozed charm and charisma, not to mention those football-player shoulders Zelma drooled over.
When Nina’s turn came, Josh’s eyes lighted. “Nina Foster, welcome.”
Josh’s voice rang with surprise, as though he hadn’t seen her for ages, instead of just the other night at the Bottses’ party. Was he being sincere? Or was his warm greeting for the benefit of the other participants?
Nina flashed him a smile. “Thank you, Josh. I’m pleased to be here.”
After everyone had been introduced, he launched into a definition of terms illustrated on the screen with cartoon characters—stocks, bonds, mutual funds, and treasury notes.
He made investing sound like such fun. However, Nina’s brain had gone from fog-bound to shutting down altogether. During the break, Nina refilled her teacup with hot water at the refreshment cart. Looking around, she came face-to-face with Amanda Harper. They exchanged greetings and references to the Bottses’ party.
“Horrible about Wildeen Bergman.” Amanda held her cup under the coffee urn’s spigot.
“She was a good friend.” Nina’s throat constricted as she dipped an Earl Grey teabag into her cup of hot water.
“Then her death was really tragic for you.” Using a pair of tongs, her pinkie finger extended, Amanda dropped a sugar cube into her coffee. “I’m so sorry.”
Nina acknowledged Amanda’s sympathy with a smile. “What do you think of the seminar so far?”
“I’m enjoying myself immensely. I never knew investing could be so entertaining. I already have a financial advisor, but I’m transferring to Josh. He comes highly recommended, don’t you know?”
“Really? By whom, if I may ask.” Nina stepped aside to allow another participant access to the hot water urn.
“Burgess Botts. He sings Josh’s praises to the skies. Burgess introduced me to Josh at the party, and Josh invited me tonight.”
So, Josh and Burgess were friends. “I see. Do you know anyone else who uses Josh’s services?”
“My friend Lily Ciliano has been with Josh for several years. She lives at Marley Manor. Marley is a retirement home, don’t you know?”
Nina nodded. “My grandmother, Jessica Bingham, lives at Marley. Perhaps your friend knows her.”
“Jessica Bingham?” Amanda smiled and nodded. “Yes, I met her when I visited Lily. She’s quite a livewire. I hope I have as much energy when I’m her age.”
Stepping away from the refreshments, they sipped their drinks and chatted until Josh called them to their seats.
During the second half of the evening, Josh told them that to make big money, they must take risks. Risks shouldn’t be scary but looked upon as adventures. He ended by instructing them to fill out the Personal Assets sheet in their packet. “I’ll use the information to design a personal program to find your pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”
After the meeting, Nina lingered. When all the others had left, she approached Josh.
“I’m surprised to see you here.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought you had your investments all set. Or is tonight part of your sleuthing?”
Taking note his voice had lost the friendliness displayed during introductions, Nina pursed her lips. “As far as my so-called sleuthing goes, I simply told Zelma I’d be alert for anything that might help her avoid being charged with Wildeen’s murder. And, yes, I’m set financially. Even so, I want to stay informed. Who knows? I might decide to take some of those risks you told us about tonight.”
“Yeah, right.”
His narrowed eyes and flat tone indicated what he thought of her excuse.
Nina took a deep breath. “Okay, I admit I did come tonight intending to talk about Wildeen. I hope you don’t mind?”
Josh switched off his laptop and closed the cover. “Go ahead and talk. I have nothing to hide.”
“I don’t think Zelma killed her, do you?”
“I don’t. But I certainly didn’t. Neither did Patti. We were together that night. All night.” He slapped his palm on the table.
Nina took a step back. “So she told me. But, Josh, if I may say so, you do have a motive.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “What motive? The half of Dad’s inheritance Wildeen insisted she should have? My lawyer assures me I would receive all the money in a court settlement.” He slid the computer into a leather briefcase, closed the flap, and snapped the catch.
Nina gripped her purse and shifted from one foot to the other. “Do you have any theories about what did happen to Wildeen?”
Josh straightened his shoulders. “I think a burglar killed her.”
“Why would anyone rob a bookstore? Surely, a thief couldn’t expect to find much cash. Why not hit Helmer’s Jewelry next door?”
Briefcase in hand, Josh strode to the refreshment cart and unplugged the coffee and hot water urns. “Maybe he thought he was at Helmer’s. Those alley doors all look alike, and no names are on any of them. Choosing the wrong door would be easy, especially in the dark.”
Josh’s firm tone indicated he’d made up his mind about a burglar being responsible for Wildeen’s death. “Okay, but to kill someone over a few dollars in the till?”
“Wildeen could’ve surprised the thief. She might have been in the front part of the store, or in the restroom, when he broke in. A person can’t predict what a criminal will do when threatened. Maybe the guy was a nut case or on drugs.” He gestured to the door. “Ready to go?”
“I am.” Her purse slung over her arm and clutching her folder to her chest, Nina lengthened her stride to keep up. “One other thing, Josh. Wildeen always kept an eye out for children’s books for my personal collection.”
“I know. When we were together, we went to flea markets and estate sales to look for old books.” A soft smile crossed his lips. “We had fun.”
“At the Bottses’ party, Wildeen told me she bought a first edition of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. I was to pick it up Monday morning.”
Josh led them along the hallway leading to the front door. “I wondered why you were at the store so early.”
“I stopped on my way to work. I didn’t get the book, of course, but I would like to have it. As community property, the bookstore is yours now, isn’t it?”
Josh shrugged. “I suppose so, although I don’t know what I’ll do with a bookstore. For now, I’ll let Hamlet run the show.”
Nina was glad to hear that news. “When the police allow the store to open again, I’d like to collect the book. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. The book’s probably in the safe. Hamlet must know the combination. If not, I’ll find it somewhere.”
“Wildeen didn’t say how much she paid for the book. Maybe I can find the amount in her records. Or, I could have it appraised.”
Josh waved a hand. “Consider the book a gift.”
His generous gesture surprised her. “Oh, no, I couldn’t—” Nina shook her head.
“Yes, you could, because I say so. No arguments.” Josh set his jaw.
“Well, we’ll see.”
They reached the lobby. No one else was about, and only a few ceiling lights illuminated the area. They went through the double doors and down the semi-circular steps.
At the bottom, Nina paused to take a deep breath of the fresh night air. Only a few cars remained in the parking lot. She glimpsed Josh’s silver car half-hidden in the shadows. A few rows away, her car waited under a laurel tree. Nina turned. “Goodnight, Josh.”
“‘Night, Nina. Thanks for coming, even if you did have an ulterior motive. And, good luck with your sleuthing.”
The mocking edge in Josh’s voice sent an unexpected shiver down Nina’s spine. Perhaps confronting him with her suspicions wasn’t such a good idea, after all.
Chapter Eight
Nina awoke the following morning to the patter of rain against her bedroom window. Somehow, the rain was appropriate.
Today was Wildeen’s funeral.
The temperature dipped far enough to warrant turning on the electric heat and eating breakfast wrapped in a quilt. Nina sipped her tea and stared out the window at the rain. Saying a final good-bye to her good friend, who had died under such brutal circumstances, would be especially difficult. When she could delay no longer, she showered and dressed for the service. She told her staff she would be gone for only a couple hours to attend the eleven o’clock memorial, but they insisted she take off the entire day. Without argument, she agreed. She wouldn’t be efficient at work today, anyway.
Nina arrived at Benson’s Funeral Home in downtown Richmond twenty minutes early. The interior, smelling faintly of cedar, provided a warm and cozy retreat from the inclement weather. Furnished with blue upholstered sofa and chairs and glass-topped tables, the lobby might have been someone’s living room.
A gray-haired attendant handed her a program small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. A picture of a sunset over calm water decorated the cover. “Please sign the guestbook.” He pointed to an open book on a nearby table.
Nina hung her raincoat and hat on the coat rack, dutifully wrote her name in the guest book, and then turned to see Wildeen’s parents, Hannah and George Bergman.
“Nina, my dear.” Hannah, whose bright green eyes were the same color as Wildeen’s, opened her arms.
Nina hugged her, catching a whiff of her spicy perfume, and then stepped back to shake George’s outstretched hand.
Tall and thin, he towered over his petite wife. “So good of you to come.”
Although George smiled, his eyes were bleak. “I’m so sorry.” Nina pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed her teary eyes.
Others arrived, including Wildeen’s older sister, Sylvia, her husband, Ralph, and their two children. The family lived in Kirkwood, another Seattle suburb.
Nina offered her condolences.
Too small to understand the significance of the occasion, the boy and girl hopped and skipped about until their father finally caught and drew them to his side.
Organ strains of “Amazing Grace” signaled the beginning of the service. The attendant herded people toward the chapel door.
I don’t want to go in the chapel. I don’t want to go through with the service. Nina forced her feet to walk forward. Once in the chapel, she chose a pew near the back. Avoiding the closed, gladioli-draped casket, she focused on the baskets of flowers lining the front of the room and quickly picked out the petunias she sent. Petunias were Wildeen’s favorite flower. She loved their fragile, silky petals and their cheerfulness.
The attendant led Zelma Duke, Sondra Wagner, and Morry Snyder down the aisle to a pew several rows in front of Nina. She pursed her lips. How nervy of Zelma to attend, when she was a suspect in Wildeen’s murder. But, then, Zelma often demonstrated a lot of nerve. Sondra and Morry definitely should not be here. They were outsiders. Other than meeting Wildeen at the Bottses’ party, they didn’t know her.
The minister, a young man who looked barely old enough to be out of college much less divinity school, approached the pulpit. “We are here today to celebrate the life of Wildeen Bergman,” he began.
Yes, let’s celebrate her life. Anything to keep our minds off her death.
At the reception, held directly after the short service, Nina sipped tea from a glass cup and munched a crustless, tuna salad sandwich, more to have something to do than because she was hungry or thirsty. She surveyed the crowd, wanting to see who was there, and who wasn’t.
Josh wasn’t. Neither was Patti, nor the Bottses. She spotted Hamlet Green, Wildeen’s employee at the bookstore. His cross earring bobbed as he talked to Wildeen’s sister. Then her roving gaze landed on Stephen Kraslow, and her stomach tightened. What was he doing here? He wasn’t a friend of Wildeen’s. He must have come on behalf of his newspaper. Although his presence annoyed her, she had to admit he looked handsome in his navy blue suit, white shirt, and blue-and-gray print tie. Oh oh, he saw her.
He smiled and took a step in her direction.
She gave him a quick nod and turned away, searching for someone to talk to. Her gaze landed on Zelma, Sondra, and Morry. They chatted with an older woman Nina didn’t know, but she hurried to join them. Any refuge in a storm.
“My Restless Heart will be on the stands in a couple weeks,” Zelma said to the woman. “Look for it in the best sellers’ section.”
Nina gritted her teeth. How brazen of Zelma to promote her book at Wildeen’s funeral.
“I’m so impressed.” The woman beamed at Zelma. “I’ve never met an author in person before.”
“I’m so glad to meet you, too. What did you say your name is?” Zelma beamed at her new fan.
When the woman finally left, Nina turned to Zelma. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Zelma shrugged, and her smile vanished.
“Staying away might make me look guilty. I didn’t want to come alone, though. Thank goodness, Sondra and Morry were available.” Zelma gestured to her companions.
“You could have come with me,” Nina pointed out.
“I suppose so, but I wasn’t thinking clearly.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I haven’t been myself lately.”
Zelma did look haggard. Wisps of hair escaped her makeover hairdo, gray shadows hovered around her eyes, and lines between her nose and mouth were deeper than usual. Nina softened toward Zelma. Despite their differences, Wildeen’s death had taken a toll on her, too.
Morry leaned toward Nina. “Hey, kid, Zelma tells me you’re gonna find out who killed Wildeen. Whatcha got, so far?”
Nina stifled a gag at the combination of tobacco and aftershave accompanying Morry’s speech. “Sorry, but I can’t talk about that now.” Not that she’d tell him anything, under any circumstances.
Morry nodded. “Okay, keep us informed, ya hear?”
Zelma leaned toward Nina. “I told Sondra the three of us must do lunch one day next week.” She laid a hand on Morry’s arm. “Sorry to exclude you, but our lunch is for girls only.”
“No problem.” Morry stuck his hands in his slacks pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I have plenty to do. I’ve been settin’ up appointments with potential clients. Got to get me another best-selling author.”
Zelma frowned. “Now, Morry, don’t worry. My tour will be underway soon.” She turned again to Nina. “What day would be good for you?”
“Wednesday is my day off.”
“Sondra?”
“Just a sec.” Sondra pulled her phone from her white, patent leather purse, thumbed the screen, and then looked up. “I can squeeze in lunch on Wednesday.”
They’d no more than settled on Sailor’s Inn at noon when from the corner of her eye, Nina glimpsed Stephen heading in her direction. Her stomach clenched, and she turned toward the others. “Will you excuse me, please?” Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off. She considered finding someone else to talk to, but the room suddenly closed in, and she had to leave. On her way out, she said good-bye to Wildeen’s family, adding to her parents that if she were ever in Arizona, she’d be sure to visit.
In the foyer, she shrugged into her coat and placed her hat on her head. Nodding to the attendant, she slipped out the door. The solid gray sky indicated the rain settled in for the day. The air was so cold she could see her breath. Holding onto her hat, she made a dash for her car. As she took out her key fob to open the door, she heard the gravel behind her crunch.
Then a voice called, “Nina! Wait!”
She turned to see Stephen hurrying toward her. A gray raincoat protected his suit, but he wore no hat, and raindrops glistened in his hair. She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to speak to you inside, but I never caught up. I decided you were avoiding me.” He raised his eyebrows. “Am I right? Do you still consider me an outsider, one of those annoying transplants you don’t like?”
Nina planted her hands on her hips. “You are an outsider, especially today. You didn’t know Wildeen or her family. I suppose you’re here looking for a story.”
“I came because I wanted to pay my respects, just like you.”
He sounded sincere, but she wasn’t ready to yield. “Well, now we have, and so we can each go our separate way.”
“Where are you going?” He gestured to her car.
“Home…I guess. I have the rest of the day off.” Hot tears mingled with the raindrops on her cheeks.
“You’re not going home. You’re coming with me.” He caught her wrist and drew her away from her car.
“No, Stephen, please!”
“Let me take care of you, Nina.”
The intensity in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice melted her resolve. And so, she allowed him to lead her away and down another row of parked cars. A gust of wind swept by, and she had to secure her hat with her free hand. She glanced around to see if anyone witnessed Stephen’s outrageous behavior, but no one was in sight.
He finally stopped beside a newer-model, tan SUV. He unlocked the passenger’s door and motioned her inside.
With a resigned sigh, she slid onto the seat. Being sheltered from the rain did feel good.
Stephen shut her door and climbed in the driver’s side. Without speaking, he started the engine and drove off.
“I could charge you with kidnapping.” Only half-joking, she folded her arms and sat stiffly in the seat.
A smile hovered around his lips. “You could, but you won’t.”
Nina narrowed her eyes. “You’re certainly sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Sometimes. Today is one of those times.”
“So, where are we going?” She shifted to gaze out the window. Through the rain-drenched glass, she recognized the town’s business district.
“To my place.”
