Off the Books Page 15

  “You are?” I wondered what Flora might have to say about this. Pam was her top-selling author. She’d hit the New York Times bestseller list numerous times. And Bentley? Pam’s bestselling romance series brought a lot of money into the agency.

  Pam was gushing with excitement. “I haven’t told anybody, but I’ve been working on a mystery for a while and I think it’s good. It needs some polishing, but when it’s done, would you take a look at it?”

  “Absolutely. I’d be honored.” And I meant it. Pam was an extraordinary writer; I had no doubt her mystery would be terrific. Although Flora and Bentley might not feel as enthusiastic about this new endeavor of hers, I viewed it as a wonderful opportunity for new growth for Pam as a person and as a writer. With Pam’s writing talents, and an already enthusiastic and huge fan base, any editor would be happy to sign her. Of course, romance writing and mystery writing required different mind-sets and different literary skill sets. But if she was successful, she could very easily end up being a bestseller in both genres. On a selfish note, the thought of representing her was thrilling to me. While I had a few high-selling authors, I had yet to have a client’s book grace the bestseller lists. “I’ll look forward to reading your mystery, Pam.”

  Pam let out a little squeal. “Thank you, Lila.” Then she turned and glanced at my mother, who was holding a tarot card in front of a captivated audience. “You know, I hope you’re not upset that your mother told me all that personal stuff about you. I don’t think she could help herself, she’s just so proud. And sometimes I think we need to hear other people’s stories in order to understand our own. Do you know what I mean?”

  I nodded. Still, I’d never thought of my story as anything special. Certainly not anything to inspire others. The fact that Mama did truly touched me. It reminded me that we all have our own stories, even Mama. I thought about all the years she’d lived without Daddy—alone and devoted to Trey and me. Was Oscar just an indication that Mama was ready to turn the page on a new chapter in her life? One that included someone to grow old with? At the very least, she deserved that type of happiness. And she deserved to have her own daughter support her. Just like she’d supported me all these years. I still wasn’t sure about Oscar, but I was sure that from now on, I’d be more sensitive to Mama’s needs. After all, she was one truly amazing woman.

  I turned back to Pam and, to her surprise, embraced her in a hug. Pulling back, I said, “You’re right, Pam. Other people’s stories can teach us a lot about ourselves. Thank you.”

  Chapter 14

  The warmer weather had begun to wear down the snow, leaving only small patches of dirty slush here and there. The pavement on the parking lot was practically bare, giving me hope that I’d be back on my scooter by the weekend. Did I ever miss jaunting around town on my Vespa!

  I’d told Mama I’d meet her as soon as the expo events wrapped up, but I’d been delayed helping reorganize the Dragonfly Room after a few gals tried to mix wine sampling with craft assembling. Not a good combination. Anyway, it was almost eight thirty by the time I finally made my way out to Mama’s truck. I found her standing outside the passenger door, staring down at a flat tire and talking on her cell.

  “What happened?”

  She hung up and waved her hand through the air. “It’s as flat as a pancake, that’s what. Must’ve hit somethin’ on my way into town this mornin’.” She moved around to the back end of the truck and threw open the tailgate. “I’ve got a jack back here someplace. I usually keep a spare mounted under the chassis, but I used it last summer and didn’t replace it. I called Oscar. He’s got an extra that should fit my truck. Said he’d bring it right over.”

  “Isn’t he busy at the restaurant?”

  She shrugged. “Not too busy to give a friend a hand, I guess.”

  Her tone spoke volumes. She was still upset about my earlier behavior. I wrapped my coat tighter around my midsection and took a deep breath. “Look, Mama. I’m sorry about the way I acted toward Oscar today. I was rude and it was wrong of me.”

  Having retrieved a jack and wrench from the toolbox in the bed of her truck, she slid off the tailgate. “It’s not me you need to apologize to, sugar.”

  My breath caught. She wanted me to apologize to Oscar? I sighed. She was probably right. I did owe him an apology. “Of course. And I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of everyone.”

  She was squatting in front of the flat, sliding the jack under the truck’s carriage. “Well, I probably should’ve told y’all about Oscar before ya saw us out like that. Must have been quite the shocker.”

  I nodded. “You could say that.” I watched as she started pumping the jack. I stepped in and squatted next to her. “Let me do that, Mama.”

  Her strong arms kept working the jack. “I’ve got it.” She paused and looked over at me, her eyes bright and clear blue. “I’m not as old as y’all might think. I’m still plenty capable of doin’ lots of things.”

  “Sure you are. I know that, Mama!”

  She kept pumping until the truck rose off the ground. Then she grabbed the wrench and started loosening the lug nuts. “Like to have this thing off here before Oscar shows up. Hate to keep him too long.”

  I stood by, helplessly watching. Wishing I could go back and undo my earlier behavior. I couldn’t, so I did the next best thing. “If you like Oscar, then I’ll try to like him, too.” I didn’t sound quite as sincere as I’d hoped to, but Mama stopped working and looked my way.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that. I don’t know where this is going with Oscar and me. I can tell ya he’s a good guy. Treats me like a queen, he does. And cooks like it’s nobody’s business.” Her face lit up a bit when she mentioned his cooking. “But the truth is it’s been a long time since your daddy left this world. And I miss him every day, sug. Don’t you go thinkin’ that any man could ever take his place. But I’m lonely. You’ve got yourself a fiancé now. And Trey, well, he’s making his own way.” She shrugged. “I dunno. It’s hard to figure. Doesn’t make sense for an old woman like me to be thinkin’ of such things …”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “No, Mama. It makes perfect sense. And, I’m trying to be happy for you. Really I am.”

  She nodded and smiled at me, relief evident in her eyes. Then she turned back to the task at hand, working the rusty lug nuts with all her might. “Well, shoot! These damn things are on here tighter than bark on a tree.”

  At that very moment, Oscar drove up in a powder blue Cadillac, circa 1970-something. He threw open the driver’s door and heaved his girth out onto the pavement. He must have come right over from the restaurant because he was still wearing his customary ankle-length black apron over a white button-down shirt and black trousers. “Let me take care of that, Althea.” He walked around the back of his Caddy, threw open the trunk, and hefted out a spare tire. “I’ll get you fixed right up,” he added, rolling the tire our way.

  It was dark, with only the light from a nearby lamp pole to illuminate the scene, and still I could tell Mama was blushing with pleasure. “Well, thank ya, Oscar,” she said, stepping aside to make room for him. “It’s so good of you to drop what ya were doin’ just to come help me.”

  I hung back to watch, a little surprised by Mama’s helpless act. I had no doubt that given just a little more time, she would have weaseled out those lug nuts by herself. For years she’d taken care of tires and all sorts of other thing—much bigger things!—on her own. I cleared my throat. “Mr. Belmonte?”

  He looked up my way and stood up. “Oscar. Call me Oscar, please.”

  I nodded and swallowed down the hitch in my throat. “Okay. Oscar. I just wanted to apologize for my rude behavior today at Catcher in the Rye.” I held out my hand.

  To my relief, he didn’t hesitate to grasp it in his own, a broad smile on his face as he enthusiastically shook it. “Don’t mention it again, Lila. I understand.”

  I smiled back. A bit of a weak smile, perhaps. Because I couldn’t help but rememb
er what Pam told me at lunch about overhearing Oscar and Chuck Richards arguing the day before Chuck was murdered. Then there was the fact that Oscar was at the murder scene and, well … disliking Oscar was just so easy for me. But for Mama’s sake, I was going to try to stay open-minded.

  Oscar was back to working the lug nuts, which didn’t seem to be any easier for him than it was for Mama. After a few minutes of huffing, puffing, and a wee bit of swearing, he glanced over his shoulder. “Lila, would you pull my Caddy over and fix the headlights on me. I need some more light.”

  “Sure,” I said, walking to the back of his car to shut the trunk before I moved it. Just before slamming it shut, I glanced inside. Obviously the back of his car doubled as a tool chest. Every sort of tool imaginable was crammed in the tiny space. Including a nail gun. A cordless nail gun, just like the one I’d seen at the crime scene, lying not too far from Chuck’s lifeless body. My eyes darted from the contents of the trunk to where Mama and Oscar were standing, looking down at the flat. Oscar leaned in and whispered something in her ear, causing Mama to let loose a raucous belly laugh. Then she playfully wrapped her arm around his midsection and rested her head against his shoulder. My heart stood still as I offered up a silent plea that my mother wasn’t falling for a killer.

  *

  OSCAR FINALLY GOT the tire changed and Mama dropped me off at my cottage. I was surprised to find Sean’s Ford Explorer parked on my curb.

  I bid Mama a quick good-bye and hopped out of her truck to greet Sean. “This is a nice surprise,” I said, as he stepped out of his car. “What brings you over?”

  He reached back into his vehicle and pulled out a to-go bag from Machiavelli’s. “Peace offering?”

  “Peace offering. For what?” Guilt pricked at my conscience as I thought back to that reckless moment with Jude earlier. How could I have been so stupid? But Sean couldn’t have known. Could he?

  He shrugged. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  A flush warmed my face and, though shadowed in the dark, I felt sure Sean could spy this obvious declaration of guilt. Probably knew everything that happened—or actually didn’t happen—at the author’s table with Jude. After all, he was a detective. He knew how to figure things out, sweat out suspects, get confessions. But how …

  He went on, “I figured I did something wrong. You hung up on me this morning.”

  Every fiber in me loosened as my mind swung around to this morning’s call. I tipped my head back and laughed. With everything that’d happened, I’d forgotten about the mishap with Eliot. “Oh no, Sean! Didn’t you get my voicemail? I tried calling you right back. It wasn’t me that hung up on you. It was Eliot.”

  The lines around Sean’s eyes crinkled. “Eliot?”

  I quickly explained how the cat had inadvertently caused my shout and the resultant abrupt hang-up.

  “Well, I’m going to have to have a talk with that cat.” He laughed and nodded toward the cottage. “How about we head inside where it’s warmer. There’s a few other things I want to talk with you about, too.”

  A few minutes later, we were settled on the couch, two heaping plates of shrimp scampi with capellini pasta on the coffee table in front of us and a warm fire crackling in my fireplace. I’d found some red wine in the fridge and poured us a couple of glasses. I sighed with contentment and nestled in close to Sean.

  “Wait until you try this,” he said between forkfuls of pasta. “It’s delicious.”

  I took my own bite, savoring the tender shrimp sautéed in a delicate white wine sauce with just the right amount of garlic and a fresh lemon taste. I rolled my eyes. “Really good,” I mumbled, digging in for more.

  “Trey was running the kitchen. I talked to him for just a second. He seemed to be doing well.”

  I nodded, still chewing.

  Sean went on, “I don’t think you need to worry so much about him, Lila. He’s doing fine. Working hard.”

  I swallowed and reached for my wine. “I hope you’re right. Actually, at the moment, I’m more worried about my mother.” He kept eating as I told him all about seeing Mama with Oscar Belmonte at Catcher in the Rye and how they’d been dating for a while, and what Pam had told me about overhearing the argument between Oscar and Chuck Richards before the murder. I finished by telling him that I saw a nail gun in Oscar’s trunk. “I’m worried that Mama may be dating a killer. She seems to be absolutely smitten with the man.”

  Sean placed his empty plate back on the coffee table. “I’ll follow up about that argument Pam overheard. There might be more to it.”

  “Good, because I simply don’t trust the man.”

  “It could be that you’re letting your personal emotions affect your judgment.” He leaned forward and took my empty plate, returning it to the table, handing me my wineglass, and pulling me closer. “I know it’s probably not easy to see your mother dating someone.”

  Was I letting my personal sentiments taint my judgment of Oscar? Perhaps. But the facts still stood: He was at the murder scene, he had motive, Pam witnessed him arguing with the murder victim, and he knew how to use a nail gun. That was a whole lot of evidence stacked against him, whether he was dating Mama or not.

  Sean continued, “Anyway, I wanted to let you know that we’re checking into the nail gun. I think what you said today was correct. It doesn’t make sense that Chuck Richards would have a nail gun at the expo job. Especially since he didn’t seem to use one on previous jobs. Either he recently purchased one or the killer brought it to the scene of the crime. I’ve got a couple of guys checking sales reports at local hardware stores.”

  I sat up and turned his way. “Really?” I tried to keep my voice calm, even though I was secretly thrilled I’d made a small contribution to his investigation. I wondered if after we were married, he might discuss his cases with me over dinner, asking my opinion on this and that. Sort of like Agatha Christie’s Tommy and Tuppence, or maybe more like Annie Laurence and Max Darling from Carolyn Hart’s Death on Demand series. I loved those books! “Have you found out anything yet?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. I’m also checking with some of Chuck’s other clients to see if he used a gun on any previous jobs. I can’t put a lot of time into it. As far as my sergeant’s concerned, we’ve got our killer. And I’ve got a full caseload, so I’m not going to be allocating as much time to following up on loose ends.”

  “Loose ends? What other loose ends are there? Something other than the nail gun?”

  He reached for his wine, taking a long sip and avoiding my question.

  I pressed on, “If you’re still checking into things, then you must not be completely convinced of Jodi’s guilt.”

  He held up his hand. “Don’t read too much into it, Lila. I just thought you brought up a valid point about the nail gun. I’m checking into it, that’s all.”

  I sighed. It wouldn’t do to press him any further. I recognized that tight-lipped expression of his. Getting any more information out of him would be impossible. So I finished up my wine and moved on to other topics. “Flora told me that Jodi was denied bail. What’ll happen now?”

  “She’ll have to stay in jail until the trial.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  Sean shrugged. “It’s how the system works. At this point, it’s up to her defense lawyer to prove her innocence. She’s lucky. Bentley got her the best lawyer money could buy.”

  That was news to me. I wasn’t aware Bentley was footing the bill for Jodi’s defense. “She must be convinced of Jodi’s innocence.” And so am I, I wanted to add. But we’d already had that discussion several times over. Instead I snuggled in closer and changed the subject. “Makayla and I found a lot of interesting ideas this afternoon.” I went on to tell him about the crafts we’d viewed and the ones we’d tried our hands at and how I thought they’d be a great way to personalize our wedding. “Of course, it would help if we could pick the date,” I said. “It’s sort of difficult to plan without even knowing the season. Have you tho
ught any more about this spring? I know you want to wait until Christmas, but that’s so far away.”

  I felt the muscles in his arms tense. “Do we really need to discuss all this tonight?” He moved in closer, planting little kisses on my jawline. “There’s so many better things we could be doing,” he mumbled playfully against my neck.

  I wiggled in his arms, wedging my hands between us. “I’m serious, Sean. I really want to set the date. It’s important to me.” And next time I talked to Jude, I’d just love to be able to mention a date. “Really important. People would take our commitment more seriously if we had a date set.” I regretted my words as soon as they came out.

  He pulled back, eyeing me with a serious expression. I’d never told him about that kiss Jude and I shared a long time ago, but sometimes I wondered if he didn’t suspect something. He’d never much cared for Jude. “What do you mean by that? What people?” he said, those blue eyes of his searching mine.

  My cheeks burned hot under his scrutiny. Not that I had anything to feel guilty about. Nothing had happened between Jude and me, nothing at all. I tried to shrug it off. “I’m just anxious to set the date, that’s all.” I looked away, stammering a bit with my words. Should I tell him what happened today? No, what good would that do? Besides, it was nothing. “I just thought if we could narrow it down to a certain month … maybe June,” I asked hopefully.

  He sighed. “Spring just won’t work for me.” I lowered my eyes and nodded, ready to agree to Christmas, when he came back with, “How about September? I think I can swing some time off then.”

  My head snapped up. “September?” Suddenly visions popped to mind of saying “I do” under the sweeping branches of a Live Oak tree, its shimmering leaves surrounding us with a magical sheen. My simple white sheath dress with a delicate lace that formed cap sleeves, a little satin ribbon for trim, the one I’d sighed over just this week at the expo, would stand out against the backdrop of nature’s fall palette of crimson reds, deep oranges, and golden yellows. I’d carry a simple bouquet of lily of the valley tied with gold double-faced ribbon …