My regular eight a.m. Monday morning meeting to discuss all things Cobb Literary Agency was way shorter than I thought it would be.
At first.
Calypso plowed through the agenda with the efficiency of Hercule Poirot’s secretary, the legendary Miss Lemon. Normally, these meetings lasted sixty minutes, at a minimum. At eight thirty on the nose, she called the meeting to a close.
“That’s it? I haven’t even finished my first cup of coffee.” I took a drink, then looked inside my Wonder Woman coffee mug. It still wasn’t empty. Something was way off.
“Yep. With the boring stuff, at least.” Calypso took her tablet in one hand and coffee mug in the other and sauntered over to the couch. She turned on my TV, and a few moments later the screen lit up with two dozen smiling faces, each one in their own box, like a giant version of The Brady Bunch.
I scratched my ear as I sat on the couch where Calypso was pointing. I hadn’t scheduled an all-agency meeting. And when I did, it was typically in the evening.
“What’s going on, folks?” I waved to the group. “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”
“To tell you congratulations on your upcoming nuptials,” Malcolm Blackstone, my longest tenured client, said from a box in the upper right corner. “Some of us who can’t make the wedding wanted to take a few minutes to let you know how happy we all are for you.”
My vision became blurry, and my throat closed up. Calypso put something soft in my hand. It was a tissue.
While I struggled to maintain even a minimal amount of composure, Calypso led the conversation. Each author took a turn sending me their love, best wishes, and hopes for good weather on the wedding day. All I could do was croak out thank-yous between my tears.
By the time the final author spoke, I’d pulled myself together. Somewhat. I dabbed at the corners of my eyes and blew my nose into the tissue. It was the third one I’d gone through. Then, I took a deep breath and looked straight into the camera lens.
“No matter what I say, it won’t be enough to let you all know how much this surprise visit means to me. I love you all, and everyone in our Cobb Literary Agency family. Thanks to your amazing creativity and skill, and your trust in me, I get to live the life I always wanted. You’re the best. Thank you.”
The dam held long enough for me to finish, but once I stopped, the tears began again. Calypso took over and promised everyone that the wedding would be livestreamed on a private connection for anyone who wanted to watch.
When the connection was ended, I gave her a long hug. “Thank you for that. It’s the best wedding present I could imagine. And that’s the truth.”
“Don’t sweat it, Allie.”
She normally called me Boss. I hugged her even tighter after that.
After a few moments, Ursi reached up and inserted her claws into my shin just enough to let me know she didn’t appreciate being left out of the fun. With a laugh, I picked her up and squeezed her between Calypso and me.
“All right, enough of this mushiness. I have work to do.” My associate agent gave Ursi’s head a couple of rubs and turned away. As she reached for her coffee mug, she sniffed and coughed. Apparently, someone else had been a little overcome by the good vibes.
“And I appreciate all you’re doing so I can focus on wedding plans this week.” I grabbed her mug and headed to the kitchen. The least I could do was get her a refill.
“To that end, what’s on your agenda for today?” Calypso gave me a thumbs-up as she accepted her drink. She was a tiny bit red around the eyes, though.
The softie.
“I’m going to pay Gail Hamilton a visit.” I slipped my case notebook into a backpack.
“Maybe I’m missing something, but that doesn’t sound like wedding plans to me.”
“Indeed, it doesn’t. But the sooner I talk to her, the sooner the case moves forward, and the sooner I catch Ollie’s killer.”
“Are you sure talking to her is a good idea?” I’d given Calypso a brief rundown on the case before we started the agency meeting. “I don’t think Bobcat Burgess will welcome you with open arms after, you know, last time.”
“That’s why I’m going to go see her at work. I did her boss a favor a while back. Arrangements have been made to have her available.” I winked.
“Ooh. Aren’t you the Bossy Boss Lady?” Calypso raised her mug to me. “In that case, I’ll let you get to your investigation. I have manuscripts to edit.”
On her way out the door, she made me promise to text her when my interview with Gail was over. The young woman was turning into a punk rock version of my mother. I couldn’t help but smile at how underneath her tough-girl exterior, she had a heart as big as anyone I knew.
I sure was lucky to have Calypso Bosley in my life.
A little while later, I arrived in front of the Rushing Creek Inn and Suites. The establishment was at the end of town. Locals often told tourists if they were looking for a specific shop and hadn’t found it by the time they reached the Inn and Suites, they’d gone too far.
Built in the late sixties, it was originally the local hospitality industry’s crown jewel. The sprawling three-story structure, complete with restaurant/lounge, ballroom, and pool, fell on hard times in the aftermath of the recession of 2009. The owner at the time had been heavily in debt and let the resort go into foreclosure. It sat empty for five years, a faded shell of its former glory.
Now, under new ownership led by my friend from college, Sarah Burr, it was attempting a comeback. Rolling up to it on my bike, it didn’t take long to determine how much of the renovation was yet to be completed. One of the two wings was closed off. The other, though, looked sharp and welcoming, giving the community hope that the top-to-bottom makeover would be finished before too long.
As I strode up the cracked concrete walkway toward the entrance, a rollaway dumpster in the parking lot and the faded sign welcoming visitors was a stark reminder that while a lot had been accomplished at the Inn and Suites, there was still much work to be done.
Sounded a lot like my investigation.
I smiled at the classic copper bell that had been given a prominent spot at the check-in counter. After debating whether it was functional or merely an eye-pleasing decoration, I gave the ringer a quick tap. A cheerful-sounding ding, ding was my reward.
A moment later, a familiar voice came from the office behind the counter. “Be right there.”
When Sarah emerged, she gave me a big grin. Between her dimples and the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, the woman looked ten years younger than me. In fact, we were practically the same age. I was her senior by all of three months.
“What is up, Ms. Cobb?” We exchanged a high five across the counter.
“Oh, not much.” I shrugged. “Trying to keep my mind off my upcoming wedding by conducting a murder investigation.”
“Ah. The usual, I see. For you, at least.”
“What can I say? My reputation precedes me. At least this is the first time I’ve had to bug you about one of my cases. That’s a good thing, right?”
“In more ways than I can count. I’ve been busy enough around here without having to interact with your Kickboxing Crusader persona. I really appreciate your support by reserving your wedding party’s rooms here, though. Thanks to you, we’re booked full for the first time since I’ve been running the place.” She chuckled. “At least the rooms that can be reserved, that is.”
I followed her into the office and took a seat in one of two cloth visitor chairs.
“Fantastic. One step at a time.” I shrugged. “I figured it was the least I could do. I’ll always owe you for helping me get through that accounting class.”
We chatted for a bit, about our years together at Indiana University and then the trials and tribulations of being a business owner. I insisted Sarah had it much tougher since she was having to reinvent the entire resort. She thought the need to deal with fifty or so strong, creative personalities made my job harder, by far.
Eventually, the conversation came around to the reason for my visit.
“Do you really think Gail had anything to do with that poor man’s murder?” Sarah frowned. It didn’t take Jane Marple to deduce that she thought well of her employee.
“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Probably not. There were so many people out that night. I’ve been working under the assumption that almost everyone’s a suspect until they can be ruled out. This is my chance to do that with Gail.”
“That’s a pretty grim way to think about your neighbors. Do you start all your cases that way?”
“No. The thing is, there’s a possibility Officer Watson wasn’t the intended target. That Brent was.”
“Your fiancé?” Sarah barked out a laugh. “Come on. He could be the poster child for the Mild-Mannered Librarian Club, complete with the blazer with the patches on the elbows. Who would want him dead?”
“Well, according to Brent, Gail was pretty upset when he didn’t hire her. I’ll grant you, it’s pretty thin. When you factor in Gail’s experience with a rifle, it becomes something I need to check out. I hope you understand.”
“Sure, but she wears an ankle bracelet. If she wasn’t at home, the cops would have known it.”
“She wasn’t on the clock that night, I take it?” It was time to focus on gathering information. I had nothing against Gail. All I wanted was to solve the case. The sooner, the better.
“No. She’s on call in case there’s an emergency, like the furnace goes out, but normally she works eight to five, Thursday through Monday. She has Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. They’re our slowest days.”
“That’s very helpful.” I dug my notebook out of the bag. “Do you mind if I talk to her now? You can be in the room if you want.”
If Sarah was wavering about letting me talk to Gail on the clock, the offer for her to sit in nudged the needle in my direction. With a nod, she got up and left the room. A few minutes later, she returned with Gail by her side and made the introductions.
“I know who you are.” The woman leaned against the doorframe while she wiped her hands on a shop cloth. She wore navy blue dungarees with a sky blue dry-fit style polo shirt. Her brown work boots shined in the light cast from above.
Regardless of what she’d done in the past, Gail Hamilton looked the part of a maintenance superintendent.
“In that case, I’ll cut to the chase.” I remained seated and gestured to the second visitor chair. “Can you tell me where you were last Sunday, the night Oliver Watson was murdered?”
“I can.” She stuffed the rag in a back pocket and began cleaning her fingernails with a pocketknife blade. “Why should I?”
“Because telling me now will save you the hassle of telling the police later.” I paused a beat to let that sink in. “Given the high profile of the situation, they’re considering almost everyone in town a suspect until they can be ruled out. Is that a good enough reason?”
After giving me a long look that lowered the temperature in the room by twenty degrees, she let out a low growl as she stared at the ceiling’s acoustical tiles. “I’m on probation, man. The last thing I need is to get in trouble. Besides, Bobcat’s helping me stay on the straight and narrow. That ought to be enough.”
“I hear you, so work with me. Where were you the night Officer Watson was shot?”
“Where I always am when I’m not here. At home.” She pointed to the black bracelet wrapped around her ankle. “This thing kind of makes sure of it.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“What, like an alibi? Sure, Bobcat can. We hung out in the backyard hoping to see the fireworks. You know how that ended.”
“Indeed, I do. Thanks, I’ll talk to him.”
I glanced at my notes. As much as anything, I wanted Gail to sweat a little. If she was hiding something, remaining still might become a problem. To the woman’s credit, she kept her mouth shut and her gaze focused on the threadbare carpeting. Despite her discipline, I sensed she wasn’t telling me the whole truth.
The question was, of course, what was she holding back?
“I understand you were amazing with a rifle back in the day. Do you still shoot?”
“Yeah, right. I’m kind of not allowed to own any firearms.”
“And it was against the law for me to drink alcohol until I was twenty-one. Didn’t stop me.”
Gail crossed her arms as she let out a little humph. My retort had hit its intended target. Losing her cool would make it tougher for her to keep her secret under wraps.
“Bobcat keeps a few firearms in the house. They’re for personal protection and hunting. Nothing more. I help him clean them, but that’s it. And just so we’re clear, if Watson hadn’t busted me, I’d still be headed down that dark road. Or dead, maybe. He saved my sorry backside. I owed him.”
“I appreciate you sharing that. Have you gotten over your anger at Brent Richardson, the librarian?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You applied for a job with the library. When you weren’t hired, you confronted Mr. Richardson. No offense, but working in a library sounds like it would be a lot cushier than working as a maintenance superintendent.”
“And that shows you don’t know jack.” Gail pointed a finger at me. “I’m making better money here than I would have there. And I get to work with my hands. Machines are straightforward. They don’t try to confuse you with their words.”
“Take it easy, Gail,” Sarah said in a calming voice. “Allie’s only trying to find the truth.”
“Yeah? Well, the truth is I don’t know who killed Officer Watson because I was at home when the poor man was shot. End of story. Can I go now?”
“Sure. Thank you for your time.” For a second, I thought I’d overplayed my hand. I’d wanted her off-balance. I didn’t want her ending the interview on her terms. I’d failed on those points.
Then a thought occurred to me. Once we were alone, I looked at Sarah. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but she said she was at home when Ollie was shot. Is that correct?”
“Yeah. But so what? That means she was a few miles from the scene of the crime, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe, maybe not. I may be overanalyzing things, but I can’t help wondering why she used those particular words. Earlier in the conversation she said she was home all night.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow as she absorbed what I was hinting at.
“Sounds like you need to pay her boyfriend a visit.”
“My thoughts exactly.” I gathered my things as I thanked her for being so accommodating. Once outside, I hightailed it home. I needed to talk to Cecil Burgess. And do it as soon as possible.
Before he and Gail had time to line up their stories.