Played by the Book (A Novel Idea Mystery 4) Read online

  She took the letter, glanced at it, and immediately dropped it onto the desk as if the paper were caustic to the touch. “This is a death threat, Lila. You should know better than to handle it this way.” She reached for the phone receiver. “What if you’ve ruined the opportunity for the police to lift prints? I’m calling them right now.”

  “No need. Sean is already on his way. He should be here in just a few minutes. I asked you who was in here this morning.” Already my mind churned as I realized all the agents would already be in the office, plus, if any … I glanced down at the brochures on her desk and tapped the pile with my forefinger. “How did these get here?”

  She hung up the phone and stared blankly at the brochures.

  I repeated my question. “When did these arrive?”

  “Just twenty minutes ago. That insufferable woman brought them over.”

  “Alice Peabody?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Did she go anyplace else in the office?”

  “No … oh, wait.” She looked at me, realization shining in her shrewd eyes. “She was carrying a large box of brochures when she came in and left the door ajar behind her. Eliot shot out.” Vicky’s back stiffened defensively. “I had to go after him. But I was only gone a few minutes.”

  “Long enough for her to slip into my office and leave this?”

  Vicky fidgeted in her seat and began straightening the pile of brochures. “It’s possible, I guess.”

  I was at a loss for words. Was Alice Peabody crazy enough to come into this agency and leave a threatening letter on my desk? It seemed awfully nervy. Perhaps that was her or someone’s intent—to show that they could invade my personal fortress. Reach me anywhere. To emphasize that there was no place where I was safe. Well, they’d done a fine job of it! I needed to speak to Bentley right away. Maybe she could install some sort of security system. Of course, what would that really do? If the killer could get into my office, he or she could find me anywhere.

  “Sit down, Lila,” Vicky ordered. “You’re not looking well.”

  I moved to the guest chair, lifted Eliot onto my lap, and settled in to wait for Sean. Still, my mind was reeling with horrible thoughts. The killer had to be someone familiar. Someone the other agents trusted enough to be inside the agency. Someone who could walk right in here and not seem suspicious.

  Vicky picked up the receiver and punched another number. This time, she was dialing Bentley’s office, informing her of what had transpired. A few seconds later, I heard her door fly open and the sound of heels clacking down the hallway. Franklin and Damian were right on her heels.

  “What’s going on out here?” Bentley asked.

  Damian moved to my side. “Lila? What’s wrong? You look sick. Are you okay?”

  Vicky spoke up. “She found a threatening letter on her desk and I’m afraid she’s in shock. Detective Griffiths is on his way.” She excused herself and went to fetch a glass of water for me. Meanwhile everyone else gathered around, fussing and asking questions about the letter, still lying open on Vicky’s desk. Before I knew it, all the agents except Flora had gathered in the reception area, the air buzzing with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

  “So, the killer was probably here. Right in our own office?” Zach asked, his eyes bugging out. “Wow, Lila. You really are a—”

  “That’s enough, Zach!” Vicky scolded. “Can’t you see how upsetting this is to Lila? There’s no need to exacerbate the situation.”

  Just then, Sean walked in. “What’s going on here?” He glanced down at me, a worried expression on his face.

  “I can tell you what’s not going on here. Work!” Bentley declared, her sharp eyes roaming the group. “Thank goodness someone in authority is here. The excitement is over and Detective Griffiths is here to take care of the situation. So, back to work, everyone! Status meeting at ten sharp.” She leveled her gaze on Sean. “Your business will be done here by ten o’clock, right?”

  Sean shrugged but didn’t offer any promises. “What situation is she talking about?” he asked after the crowd dispersed. “I thought I was coming over here to talk to Flora about … something,” he hesitated, eyeing Vicky, who was hovering at her desk just a few feet away.

  “You were, but in the meantime I found a threat letter in my office.” I pointed to Vicky’s desk. “It’s over there.”

  He crossed to the desk and, without touching the paper, leaned over and read the note. Then, handling the edges only, he placed it into a plastic bag he’d removed from his suit pocket. When he finally turned back to me, his face was dark with concern. “This means someone involved in the murder was right here in this office.”

  My mouth suddenly felt dry. “I know,” I whispered, rubbing my temples. “I was in Flora’s office for about twenty minutes first thing this morning. Anyone could have put it in there during that time.”

  “Excuse me,” a voice interrupted from behind. Sean and I looked up to see Franklin. “There’s something you should know. Grant Walker also came by this morning looking for Damian. He had a copy of the original deed for his land, which Damian wanted to view before signing the offer. Apparently Ruthie is in Dunston all day with a client, so she asked him if he could deliver a copy directly to Damian or to me so I could pass it along to him.”

  “What?” Vicky asked from her desk. “What time was this?”

  Franklin turned toward her with an apologetic look. “It was early this morning, well before eight o’clock. You weren’t in yet, Ms. Crump.”

  “How long was he here?” Sean asked.

  Franklin wrung his hands. “Not long at all. And, never alone, I might add. I met him here in the front office. He handed me the paperwork and left.”

  “Still, he could have snuck back in when you weren’t looking, Franklin, knowing no one else was in the office yet.” Vicky’s voice was tinged with accusation. “And I wouldn’t put it past him to write a letter like that.”

  I looked toward Sean and shook my head. “I know there are several strikes against him, and his presence at the same time a threat letter shows up does look suspicious, but I still don’t get those type of vibes from him.”

  Sean’s brow furled. “Vibes? Lila, killers don’t necessarily give off vibes. This isn’t one of your books where the characters’ negative attributes are carefully sketched by crafty authors. In real life, normal people do bad things. Very bad things.”

  I felt myself sink deeper into the chair. His words echoed in my mind: “bad things. Very bad things.” He was right. I needed to keep an open mind. Anyone could have killed Fannie. Although my bet was still on Alice Peabody. I relayed the details of Alice’s morning visit to Sean. “She was dropping off a box of brochures and the cat snuck through the open door. Vicky went after him and it took her a few minutes to track him down.”

  “He’d climbed into that overgrown evergreen at the base of the steps,” Vicky explained. “I had to coax him out.”

  I continued with my theory. “So, Alice was alone in the office for enough time to slip into my office and leave that nasty letter.”

  Vicky folded her arms. “I still think Grant’s more the threat-letter type.”

  “Okay. I’ll look into both possibilities,” Sean said, patting his suit pocket. “In the meantime I’ll have the techs see if they can lift any prints off the paper.”

  “That might not be possible, Detective.” Vicky spoke up with a smug expression. “Lila handled the letter before bringing it to my attention. I, of course, reminded her of the importance of preserving the integrity of whatever prints may have been left behind by the perpetrator, but I’m afraid I was probably too late.”

  Sean nodded her way. “Thank you, Ms. Crump.”

  I sighed heavily and shot her a sneering look before motioning for Sean to follow me down the hall. I stopped in front of Flora’s office and turned to him. “When I was out at the Walker farm—” I started, but Sean held up his hand, stopping me midsentence.

  �
�Hold on.” He eyed me closely. “The Walker farm? You didn’t tell me that. Were you asking Grant questions about Fannie’s murder?”

  I cringed inwardly, hoping I wasn’t about to start up either his disapproval of my sleuthing or, worse yet, his jealous streak, again. “Franklin’s been helping Damian look for land in the area to build his showcase home.”

  Sean scowled at the mention of Damian’s name. I noticed the muscles in his forearms noticeably tensing. “Go on.”

  “Franklin asked me to give a second opinion on the property,” I continued. “So, I went up there; it’s just a few miles out of town.”

  “I don’t get it. Why does a literary agent need to help his client pick out property? And why does yet another literary agent’s second opinion add any weight?” Sean asked.

  “It’s more complicated than that. Damian is an important client. He’s a celebrity. Having him sign with our agency is a big coup for Bentley. She wants us to pamper him, keep him on board. That means little perks sort of like …” Sean furrowed his brow and muttered something under his breath while I searched for the right words to explain. “Sort of like when a big company rents out box seats at a major arena so they can woo their clients.” Sean let out a long sigh of relief, making me wonder exactly what type of perks he might have thought I meant.

  “Whatever,” my indignant glare finally prompted from him. “So, you went out to look at Damian’s property and I’m sure he valued your opinion.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Refusing to rise to the bait, I simply shrugged.

  He continued, “I suppose, knowing Grant is our top suspect, you took it upon yourself to ask a few questions about Fannie’s murder.” There was no mistaking the look on his face. Sean was ticked.

  I glanced at the floor. “He did happen to mention his father had received a threatening letter …”

  Sean sighed impatiently. “We know all about it. It’s from a former patient who’s recently lost his spouse. He felt like Dr. Walker’s negligence caused his wife’s death. But, I checked into it. The man’s in his late eighties. He wasn’t physically capable of killing Fannie. He’s just some poor lonely soul, grief-stricken by his wife’s death and lashing out in the only way he knew how: by writing a mean letter.”

  “How sad,” I offered. Only Sean didn’t seem sad. He just seemed angry. Angry that I’d once again butted in where I didn’t belong. And for good reason, obviously. Now I was the one receiving threatening letters. I decided to turn the topic back to matters at hand. “I had Flora call you because she has some information that will identity Helen … I mean, the Jane Doe.” Sean would laugh if he’d known I’d gone ahead and given the young woman in my yard a name. “But take it easy on her, okay. She’s been through more than you can imagine.”

  With that said, I left him at Flora’s door and retreated back to my office. After about fifteen minutes of trying to read email, I realized my efforts were fruitless. My eyes kept wandering to the very spot where the threat letter, delivered right here, on my desk, arrived just this morning. A shiver blanketed me as I thought of a killer being in my very office. What was next, my home?

  I jerked upright, startled at the sound of someone entering my office. and breathed a sigh of relief when I realized it was just Sean. “Flora told me everything,” he said. “Thanks for talking her into coming forward with this information.”

  “You’ll be able to figure out who the young woman is, then?”

  “Hopefully.”

  “What do you mean, hopefully? All you have to do is check the records of foster children the Cobbs took in, right?”

  He shifted from foot to foot. “It sounds easier than it is. We’ll have to get a court order to have the files unsealed. It could take a while.”

  “How long?”

  He sighed. “Depends. For one thing, it’s not as simple as having Mrs. Cobb sign a release for her own records; she’s not of sound mind. We’ll probably have to jump through a few hoops. I’ll type up the warrant and affidavit this afternoon and get it to a judge.”

  “Maybe it won’t take too long, then.”

  “Well, once I have the warrant signed, I’ll have to find the person in charge of records at social services. Hopefully, they’ll hand the paperwork over without needing to confer with their supervisor, but …” He shrugged. “All I’m saying is that these things take some time. It’s not always like you see on television, where they get a warrant immediately. Especially if there’s not a threat of danger. This is a decades-old murder. Other things take precedence.”

  Yes, like my very recent threat letter. Still, how much longer was it going to take to identify the young woman in my yard? “So, it could be a few days,” I reiterated, my heart sinking. How much longer would Helen … no, her real name wasn’t Helen, I thought, my heartache turning to frustration. Her real name was buried somewhere in those files. And, her real family was somewhere out there waiting and wondering, perhaps even still grieving after all these years. And what about Mrs. Cobb? She’d practically begged me to find out what happened to her children.

  “Lila,” Sean said, crossing the room. “You’re upset. And rightly so. You’ve just received a threat against your life. All this worry over the Jane Doe in your yard is just the way your mind is coping with your fear. You’re trying to distract yourself.”

  “You’re right, Sean. I am upset.” I could feel my emotions rising, bubbling up to the surface like a pot about to overboil. Anger, frustration, fear—all threatening to cascade in tears or strike out with … what? Fists? The silly image of me slugging away at someone (who?) or something (what?) made me shake my head, take a breath. I did need to get control, see the facts, and lay it all out to the only person who understood me. “I’m upset that someone delivered that evil message to me right here in my own office.” I jabbed my finger against the surface of my desk. “And I’m upset that people around me keep getting murdered. Do you realize that the people of Inspiration Valley have dubbed me the Murder Magnet? Like it’s my fault that someone was murdered and buried under my hawthorn bushes. Then there’s Fannie’s murder. Vicky’s so sure it was Grant Walker who killed her, but—”

  “That’s my territory, Lila. You need to stay out of Fannie’s murder.” He patted his pocket. “You’ve obviously been asking questions around town. Something you’ve done has someone thinking you’re involved. Isn’t this threat letter enough of a wake-up call for you?”

  I clamped my mouth shut. So much for me wanting to lay out the facts and get control; those very actions had caused me to be the next potential victim, magnetizing murder to myself! He was right. And he definitely wouldn’t be happy if he knew I’d gone to the Walker farm yesterday for the sole purpose of questioning Grant. I knew this sleuthing mission Vicky had sent me on wasn’t a good idea, but I’d gone anyway. And although I didn’t want to admit it, only a couple of people had motive and opportunity to leave that letter. Grant, because I’d been asking him questions about his stepmother’s murder, and Alice Peabody, because by now she probably realized I was the one who’d sicced the police on her. Of course lots of others had access to my desk: Flora, who, until a bit earlier, wanted nothing more than for me to quit snooping around. My mind flashed back to when I’d entered her office earlier. That was a black pen I saw her nervously cap. And the paper she shuffled to the bottom of her pile? Another threat note waiting to be delivered? Stop it, Lila! I was doing it again, digging myself into a hole, seeing suspects now even among people I trusted. I’d set myself up for this whole threat-letter thing and had no one else to blame.

  Sean softly touched my arm, drawing me away from my thoughts. “Let me take you home. Maybe you can pack your bags and head over to your mother’s for a couple of days. Let things cool down.”

  I wanted nothing more than to hole up somewhere and let Sean take charge and deal with all the murders and suspects and doubts. I hesitated, glancing over my pile of to-dos for the event, another pile of letters from authors, my c
omputer screen blinking with incoming emails …

  Before I could respond, Sean said, “Everything will wait for you. It isn’t like—”

  “It isn’t like what? I can’t just pick up and leave! And it won’t wait!” Those emotional bubbles burst through and I snapped at him. Like his job is important and mine isn’t? “There’s too much to do before this signing and dinner event, and everyone else is already overloaded; there’s no way I can just go home.” I waved my hand toward a stack of papers on my desk. “I have a status meeting this morning, plus all these queries to go through, brochures to deliver, and …”

  He grabbed me by the shoulders and steadied me. “Okay, okay. I understand.” He let out a breath. “Listen, I’m just worried about you, okay? Why don’t you come over to my place for a couple of days? Both you and Trey. Just until things blow over.”

  I inhaled and held my breath for a few seconds, willing my mind to stop reeling out of control. His offer was tempting, but could I really afford that type of distraction right before such a big event? Exhaling, I put on a brave smile. “It’s okay, really. My mother’s been staying at the house with Trey and me, so it’s not like we’re alone.”

  He shook his head, worry evident in his expression. “Still, I’m going to see about having a patrol car in your neighborhood tonight.” He leaned in and wrapped me in his arms. “I’ve got to get back to the office. Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he pleaded.

  I nodded and promised. Yet deep down, I knew if the letter was delivered right here, in my workplace, the killer could get to me anywhere. No, my best hope was that Sean would find the murderer soon. Until then, I wouldn’t be able to find any peace.

  Chapter 14

  Even with Mama sleeping in the front room, and the knowledge that a police officer was patrolling our neighborhood, I still didn’t sleep soundly. Sometime between a vivid nightmare involving a humanlike rosebush and the sound of my alarm clock, I gave up on sleep and simply lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The thing about the quiet moments before the day breaks, is that you’re completely alone with your thoughts. That morning, forced to face my feelings surrounding the events of the last week, I decided I needed to get on with business as usual. I knew my brain would work overtime on something and I couldn’t afford to allow it to work on suspects—all that had garnered so far was a death-threat letter. No, I needed to keep my mind busy on something else. And with Damian’s signing and dinner just a few days away, I had plenty at hand to do just that.