Murder Between the Pages, page 13
He chuckled. “You’ll do fine. By the way, how’s the investigation coming? Is that why you’re here? Because you’ve found something for Pete Russell?”
Nina tensed. “What time do you want to meet at the club?”
“Okay, I can take a hint.” He flashed a grin. “I don’t have your confidence yet. Gotta work on that. Will two o’clock give you enough time for your lunch date?”
“I’m sure it will.” Nina breathed a sigh of relief.
“Good. I’ll see you at the club.”
A few minutes later, Pete Russell ushered Nina into his stuffy, windowless office. “Have a seat.” He motioned to a straight chair in front of his desk then sank into his swivel chair and leaned back. “What do you want to see me about?”
She took the two books from her purse and laid them side-by-side on the desk, with the titles and authors’ names positioned so he could read them. “I brought you these books…”
“You were brave to confront Zelma,” Russell commented when she finished her story.
“I didn’t feel brave at the time. I was angry she hadn’t told me about her deception in the first place.” Nina stared at the books, wishing she’d never seen—much less read—either of them.
“But you can understand why she didn’t.”
“Oh, yes.” Nina shifted on the hard seat. “But I didn’t bring her plagiarism to your attention because I want to see Zelma arrested for Wildeen’s murder. I still believe in her innocence. I just couldn’t withhold something that might be evidence.”
Pete Russell made notes on his clipboard and then looked up. “I appreciate your coming in today, Nina.”
His voice carried an understanding she didn’t expect. “Will Zelma be charged?”
“I can’t say. Bringing charges is the prosecutor’s job.” He slipped his pen into his shirt pocket.
“Do you have any other suspects?” Surely, Zelma wasn’t the only one on their radar.
Russell shook his head. “I’m not at liberty to discuss suspects.”
Nina left the police station, wondering if exposing Zelma as a plagiarist was the right decision. She honestly didn’t know. She couldn’t ponder the dilemma now, though. A glance at her watch indicated if she were to meet Sondra Wagner at noon, she’d better be on her way. Sondra said she wanted to discuss something. What could that possibly be?
Chapter Twelve
The drive to Ballard, Seattle’s Scandinavian suburb bordering Puget Sound, took twenty minutes. Nina traveled through the neighborhood’s business district, which included a meat market featuring lutefisk and a restaurant famous for its Swedish pancakes. The road wound past the Hiram Chittenden Government Locks, where boats left the higher inland waterways and entered the lower waters of the sound. The locks were a popular tourist attraction, and today was no exception. Vehicles filled the parking lot, and sightseers streamed through the park’s arched entrance.
A few miles beyond the locks, Sailor’s Inn occupied the top floor of a two-story building overlooking a marina. As she climbed the steps to the restaurant, Nina glanced at her wristwatch. One minute to twelve. Her good timing brought a satisfied smile to her lips.
The hostess seated her at a window table offering a view of the hundreds of boats moored at the marina. Nina watched a yacht with colorful flags attached to the stern leave its slip and head for the open water. On the deck of an incoming sailboat, a man holding a coiled rope stood poised to dock the boat. Then Sondra’s arrival captured Nina’s attention.
Setting her brown leather briefcase on the floor, Sondra slid into the seat across the table. “Sorry I’m late, but I have a big event planned for this weekend and a million details to attend to.”
“What’s the event?” Nina shifted in her seat to face Sondra.
“A 4K charity walk from the Westlake Mall to Safeco Field, where a rally will be held. The mayor’s giving us a send-off, and all the local channels will feature us on the five o’clock news.”
Nina raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like you have a busy job.”
Sondra beamed. “I do, and I love my work. But right now, I’m starved. Let’s look at the menu.” She picked up the plastic-encased menu the hostess left.
Nina opened her menu, too, and studied the selections. Not surprisingly, seafood was the house specialty. After perusing dishes such as blackened catfish and deep fried calamari, she settled on a crab salad.
Sondra chose a turkey croissant sandwich.
The waiter appeared and took their orders.
After sipping her water, Sondra sat back and studied Nina. “How is your investigation? Have you turned up anything to help Zelma prove her innocence?”
“Not really.” Nina wondered what Sondra would say if she told her Zelma was a plagiarist.
Sondra waved a hand in dismissal. “I didn’t think you would. Finding the killer is a job for the police, not an amateur sleuth.”
At the scorn she heard in Sondra’s voice, Nina bristled. The term “amateur sleuth” reminded her of the old Nancy Drew books in her collection. “I’m not establishing myself as any kind of sleuth, amateur or otherwise. I’m only helping a friend.” She leaned forward. “What about you? Do you know of anything that might help Zelma?”
Sondra shrugged. “I wish. I hardly knew Wildeen.”
“But her desk calendar showed you had an appointment with her a week and a half before she was killed.”
“My, you have been busy, haven’t you? All right, I did have an appointment with Wildeen. I wanted her to have a book signing for Zelma, but she refused. Not only refused but also laughed at the idea.” She pursed her lips. “I’ll admit her attitude didn’t sit well, but her refusal is hardly a motive for murder. Besides, I found other bookstore owners eager to host a signing.”
Nina gazed out the window a moment and then turned back to Sondra. “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to kill Wildeen?”
“Sure, I do. Her husband.”
Sondra’s quick answer indicated she was prepared for the question. Nina studied her. “You know about their conflict?”
“Zelma told me about the trouble over their divorce.” She tilted her head. “Or maybe his girlfriend was the murderer. What are Patti’s and Josh’s alibis?”
“As far as I know, each other.”
Sondra snorted. “Figures. I was married once. Never again. How about you?”
“I haven’t tried marriage yet. But why didn’t yours work out?” Nina was determined to keep the focus on Sondra, rather than on herself.
“Spending so much time with the same person became boring. I need excitement in my life.” She shrugged. “Guess that’s why I’m in the publicity biz.”
Boredom was hardly an excuse to give up a marriage, but perhaps other reasons she chose not to mention contributed to Sondra’s failed relationship.
Their meals arrived. Sondra’s croissant was tucked in a basket, and Nina’s crab salad came in a large plastic clamshell. For the next few minutes, they concentrated on eating. Nina enjoyed her salad, served with a generous portion of fresh crabmeat and a tangy dressing. However, despite being branded an amateur sleuth, she was eager to pursue questioning Sondra. “By the way,” she began, “did you know Detective Russell found the heel you lost at the Bottses’ party?” Not wanting to miss Sondra’s reaction, she kept her gaze focused on her.
Sondra nodded and with thumb and forefinger picked up a potato chip. “He called me. I could’ve sworn the heel went over the cliff. I stood close to the edge admiring the view. I backed up”—she gestured with a free hand—”and my shoe hit a huge rock. The heel broke off.” She wrinkled her nose. “The shoes weren’t cheap, either.”
Nina finished a bite of her salad. “Will he return the heel?”
“He said he would. But I don’t want the thing. I’ve already tossed the shoes.” She popped the chip into her mouth and munched.
“He found the heel close to where I overheard Zelma and Wildeen plan to meet at the bookstore.”
“Maybe an animal dragged it there.” Sondra glanced around and then leaned forward. “Oh, I see where you’re headed. You think I overheard their conversation, too, and went to the bookstore after Zelma left, and then I killed Wildeen. But even if I had a motive, why would I pick a time when Zelma might be blamed? Her success is important. She’s the first best-selling author I’ve represented. We’ve planned a fabulous tour. Why would I want to jeopardize her success?” She sat back and ate another chip.
“You wouldn’t, I’m sure. But would you mind telling me where you were when Wildeen was murdered?”
Sondra finished chewing and touched her napkin to her lips. “I’ve already told Detective Russell, but, okay, I’ll play your game—in the interest of helping Zelma, mind you.” She took a breath. “After the Bottses’ party, Morry and I went for a drink at the Harbor Bar and Grill. We were still there when the murder occurred.”
Morry Snyder was on Nina’s suspect list, too. She hadn’t had a chance to interview him yet. “Did Morry know Wildeen? Other than meeting her at the Bottses’?”
Sondra shook her head. “I don’t think so. But you’ll have to ask him yourself.” She wrinkled her brow. “Why aren’t you a suspect? What’s your alibi?”
“I don’t have one. I went directly home after the party, but I didn’t see or talk to anyone who can help me prove that.”
“Okay, what’s to have kept you from killing Wildeen and then discovering her body in the morning?” Sondra made air quotes around “discovering.”
“Nothing, I guess.” Nina shrugged. “Except I have no motive. Wildeen and I were friends.”
“So were she and Zelma.”
At the memory of their lost friendship, Nina experienced a pang of regret. “Not as good now as in the past. Wildeen’s jealousy of Zelma cooled their friendship.”
The waiter appeared and refilled their water glasses.
Sondra sipped her water, eyeing Nina. “So, are you finished with your interrogation?”
Nina let a smile hover over her lips. “For now.”
“Good.” Sondra straightened her shoulders. “Now we can talk about my idea.”
Nina put down her fork. “I remember you said you had something to discuss.”
“Right. I read a notice in The Richmond Review about your library’s book sale. What do you do for publicity?” She pulled her cell phone from her purse and laid it on the table.
Nina thought a moment. “We advertise in the newspaper and on our website and distribute flyers around town. Oh, and we hang a banner across Main Street with the date and time of the sale.”
Sondra made notes on her phone and then looked up, a wide smile on her lips. “Have you ever thought of TV coverage?”
Nina laughed. “I hardly think the television stations would be interested in a library book sale.”
“I can get them interested in anything.” She tapped her chin with her forefinger and looked at the ceiling. “You could have…a parade.”
Nina wrinkled her brow. “A parade? What for?”
“Why, for books, of course. Give the sale a literacy theme and donate part of your proceeds to a literacy fund.”
Nina shook her head. “We’ve already decided what we’ll do with our money.”
“Make some changes. But that idea’s just off the top of my head. Give me time, and I’ll come up with a bunch more.”
“I appreciate your offer, Sondra.” Nina speared the last bit of crab from her salad. “But I doubt our modest budget would allow for your services.”
“My help would be well worth the price. Your sales would increase, and you’ll take in more money than ever before.”
Sondra’s eyes sparkled. Nina finished chewing and put down her fork. “We usually sell almost all our books. During the last hour, we charge only a dollar a bag. Any leftovers are donated to thrift stores.”
Sondra waved a hand. “I’ll show you what I’m doing for Zelma.” Pushing aside her food basket, she lifted her briefcase to the table and opened the clasp. She took out two pieces of paper and handed them to Nina. “Here are a bookmark and a flyer, for starters.”
The bookmark was identical to the one Nina found in the Bottses’ garden. The full-page flyer was much the same, except for the inclusion of Zelma’s bio. “These bookmarks are very, ah, nice.” Nina ran her fingers over the paper’s glossy surface. The comment sounded lame, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“I’ve also created a blog tour with a contest. Here’s the prize.” Sondra dug into the briefcase and pulled out a long-sleeved, yellow sweatshirt. The cover of Zelma’s book blazed across the shirt’s front.
Speechless, Nina gulped. She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to be a walking advertisement for another person’s book. From the corner of her eye, she noticed two women diners craning their necks in Sondra’s direction.
Glancing around, Sondra turned the shirt to face the women and jiggled it.
The two exchanged looks and then nodded and smiled.
“Excuse me a sec.” Grabbing her bookmarks and flyers, Sondra jumped up and approached the women. She spoke to them for a few minutes, holding up the shirt and giving them the advertising material. When she returned, she sat and beamed a smile. “They’re in.”
“In?” Nina darted a glance at the women.
They smiled and waved.
“The contest.” Sondra held up the flyers. “All they have to do is visit Zelma’s website and fill in a form that tells where the hero and heroine share their first kiss.”
“That task seems easy enough.” Wouldn’t readers realize they were just being suckered in to buying the book or to checking it out at the library?
“We’ll get lots of correct answers, so in addition to the shirts, we’ll have a drawing for a grand prize, a gift card and a basket of goodies.”
“I’m sure your contest will be a big success for Zelma, but—”
Sondra snapped her fingers. “I know. We could do a similar version for your book sale. How about giving a T-shirt to everyone who donates books and a gift card and goodie basket to whoever donates the most books? The shirt could say ‘Readers are Leaders.’” With thumb and forefinger, she traced a line in the air.
Nina visualized her staff sorting through the huge piles of books. “Keeping track of the donations would be a lot of work—”
Sondra widened her eyes. “But you do want donations, don’t you?”
Being able to purchase all the items on the staff’s wish list would be nice. “Of course, but—”
Just then, the waiter laid their check on the table.
Nina reached for the slip at the same time Sondra put out her hand. Actually, Nina wanted only to see her share. She assumed the lunch was Dutch treat.
Sondra grabbed the slip of paper from under Nina’s fingers. “Lunch is on me.” She held the check to her chest.
“Oh, no, really—”
“I insist. You sat here listening so politely to my spiel.”
True enough. “Well, thank you. I appreciate being your guest.” But had Sondra picked up the bill so Nina would feel obligated to use her publicity services?
However, Sondra said no more about the book sale. She stuffed everything into her briefcase, snapped it shut, and looked at her wristwatch. “Gotta run. I have a meeting with reps from channel forty to discuss covering a dog show.”
“Is a contest involved with the show?” Nina couldn’t help asking.
Sondra shook her head. “Uh uh. But each entrant gets a free poop scoop.”
As she picked up her purse, Nina hid a smile. “A poop scoop ought to be a good incentive.”
They left the restaurant together. At the parking lot, Sondra turned to Nina. “I’m sorry Zelma couldn’t come today, but I’m glad you did. I’ll be in touch.”
“All right. If you think of anything that might help catch Wildeen’s murderer, I hope you’ll let me and Detective Russell know.”
Sondra quirked an eyebrow. “In that order?”
Nina laughed good-naturedly. “Yes, I want to make sure we’re both informed.”
****
“Oh, darn!” Once again, Nina missed hitting the ball with her racquet.
The ball hit the court’s hardwood floor and then bounced into Stephen’s outstretched hand. “Game over,” he called.
“I know, and you won. Again.” Breathless, Nina pressed a hand against her chest.
“Don’t be discouraged.” Stephen came to her side and touched her shoulder. “You have a smooth serve and good arm strength. But I sense your mind’s not on the game. Am I right?”
She straightened and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I admit to being preoccupied.”
“Wildeen’s murder.”
“Uh huh.” Plus the new development of Zelma’s plagiarism. But, of course, she couldn’t tell him that discovery.
However, as she met his gaze, a look passed between them that made her want to confide. She steeled herself against the feeling. He was an outsider. Besides, she wasn’t interested in being close to a man. Intimacy was too scary. She tore away her gaze and held up her racquet. “Do you want to play another game?” Please say no.
“I wouldn’t mind, but I think you’ve had enough. We’ll play again some other time. Now we’ll go to my office and discuss your column.” He tucked his racquet under his arm and gestured toward the court’s glass door.
Nina breathed a sigh of relief. “Good idea. I do want to start on the column.”
On their way to the locker rooms, they met Josh Loring and Burgess Botts, heading for the racquetball courts. Josh wore blue Spandex shorts and a tank top that showed off his broad shoulders and muscular arms. His wavy, dark brown hair was smoothed back from his forehead in its usual neat style.
Burgess’ over-large T-shirt failed to hide his potbelly, if that was the intent, and khaki shorts exposed hairy legs with knobby knees.
The four stopped to exchange greetings.
Josh and Stephen discussed an advertisement Josh placed in The Richmond Review.
Burgess turned to Nina. “I hear you’re a detective now.”
