Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57502 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57502 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
“Yes.”
But. “That makes no sense.” Unless Hannah premade a thank you card? “What did the contents say?”
“It was an invitation that read, Player one is ready. Are you?”
Player one? “So Hannah died for a game of cat and mouse between the murderer…and me?”
“Yes. But there’s more,” he added, and she groaned. “The dedication was included with chapter one, and it mentions you and a few other residents of Aurelian Hills.”
“Like who?”
“Ana Irons. Anthony Miller. Marcus Hotchkins, and Joshua Gunn.”
Alarm streaked through Jane. “But all those people are dead.”
“Yes,” he agreed with a flat tone. At least this explained his grimness. “From what we can tell by skimming, the story is a reverse cozy mystery. Instead of being told from the sleuth’s point of view, it’s seen through the eyes of a quote unquote good-natured killer.”
Shocked, she could only mutter, “There’s such a thing as a good-natured killer?”
“Never. Copies are being made, so you and I can read it while the original pages are processed. I know you’re planning to interview your suspects, and nothing I say will stop you. But during this investigation, I’m asking you to always let me know your plans ahead of time and visit no one alone.”
“Deal. Here’s your first update. I’m speaking with my ex-boyfriend the fireman tomorrow. He’s the guy who found me.”
Conrad canted his head, and she had trouble deciphering his emotion(s). “The ex, huh?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell you all about it one day.” Her knot ached a little too much for such a deep conversation now.
“Good.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’m confiscating the book club invitation you received.”
“Of course. It’s in my purse.” She motioned to the charming vintage handbag in a muted purple hue on the chair near the window. Delicate embroidered flowers adorned the surface and the decorative clasp shined. “Do you have any suspects?” she asked as he released her and stood. “Besides Lucy, I mean. And every member of the book club. Also Abigail Waynes-Kirkland. She’s involved somehow. She must be.”
“I’ll look into her, but I’m not yet certain there’s an actual club.” He withdrew a plastic baggie and a glove from his pocket, then fit the latex over his fingers, collected her purse, and fished the invitation from the interior.
“I assume you’ll start with the ex-husband,” she said. Significant others were always first.
He nodded. “I like to press them hard and fast in the beginning to knock them out of the running, if applicable, so I can widen the circle.”
As he fit the paper into the bag, Jane asked, “What did you mean, no club?” She had noticed how effortlessly he skipped over her question about suspects, but she simply chose not to push.
“From what little I read of the chapter, the killer, a woman, invites the owner of a landlocked cemetery to a teahouse to attend a fake meeting. The killer then strikes and kills the cemetery owner, causing a haggard detective to come out of retirement to try to solve the case.”
Her jaw went slack. “I was supposed to die? As in, take an eternal dirt nap?” Before her wedding? Yes, she’d suspected this very thing. But still. Having it confirmed cut. “Does this mean the killer is actually playing with you? Are you supposed to be the haggard detective?” Outrage flared in her veins. Conrad was anything but haggard. Also, he better not be in danger.
“I’m not sure. Could be Raymond Moore.”
The former sheriff, aka Fiona’s boyfriend? That Raymond Moore? “But he’s not haggard either.”
“Perhaps the murderer hoped this book would cover a motive to kill Hannah Thorton. In any case, they could strike at you, me, or us again. Which is why I’d prefer you to move in with Cheddar and me.”
Spending more time with her soon to be step-fur-child, whom she already loved as her own, did sound nice.
“You can give him a new nickname,” Conrad added.
The little darling’s list of endearments did seem to grow every time she came over. Cheddy and the Cheese Man were her personal favorites. She suspected Conrad preferred Mr. Cheese and Goodest Boy.
He wasn’t done. “Since your last stay, I’ve installed in an unbeatable security system. No one enters without permission, even if they score a key.”
Longing proved tempting. But. “I can’t, in good conscience, leave Tiffany alone. The killer put a lot of thought into this exhibition, and they’re willing to go to extreme lengths to succeed, even hurt the friend of a friend.”
“Beau, or one of the guys, is moving into the Garden. They’ve already agreed. And it’s only for a short time. Just until we solve the case. Which we will do faster than we’ve ever done before.” Determination hardened his voice.
With all the bases covered, there was no need to consider it further. “Yes, that works.” Jane felt safest with Conrad, and she adored the craftsman bungalow they’d picked out together. She’d even begun to wonder if–gasp–she should add a touch or two to suit her tastes, not just his. “You know what sucks most? Well, other than Hannah’s murder. I didn’t get to hear your poem.”