By the time I returned to Chapters that afternoon, I had to rush to finish several tasks I’d planned to complete sooner, like confirming the menus for Friday’s events with Alicia and Damian.
I got Damian on the office speaker phone while Alicia sat in my chair and propped her feet on the desk. “What?” she said, when I raised my eyebrows. “I think I’m owed a little rest, especially since I had to pull double duty today when you disappeared for hours on end.”
“Fair enough,” I said, before greeting Damian. With Alicia tossing in some choice comments, I quizzed him on his plans for snacks and hors d’oeuvres for both the tea and the cocktail party scheduled for the following day.
“I can manage the sweets,” Alicia said, when Damian expressed concern over the idea of petit fours. “You just whip up all the little sandwiches and other finger foods and handle the drinks and we’ll be good to go.”
“I’ll help too,” I said, earning a snort from Alicia. “Seriously, don’t base anything on today. I just ran into an unplanned distraction. I promise I won’t even leave the house tomorrow, unless we need something from the market.”
“Whatever. As long as you play hostess, I won’t complain,” Alicia said. “I don’t mind the other work, but don’t expect me to entertain anyone.”
“You really think Charlotte would ever expect that?” Damian’s voice was filled with good humor.
“Just make sure you get here on time,” Alicia replied in a frosty tone.
But her lips twitched into a smile when Damian said, “Good things are worth the wait.”
With the menus set for both of Friday’s events, and arrangements for how Alicia and I planned to tackle the necessary cleaning confirmed, I decided to retreat to my room. Friday was going to be a marathon. Before that tsunami of activity, I wanted a little time to process the information I’d gathered earlier in the day.
Just as I sat on my bed with my laptop, my cell phone rang. I sighed and set the computer aside to answer the call.
“Hello, Ms. Reed, just thought I’d give you an update,” Detective Johnson said.
“Good news, I hope.”
“Not bad, anyway. We do have Billy Bradford in custody, of course. The trespassing and threatening behavior actually were a help, since we don’t have enough evidence yet to hold him on murder charges.”
“But this way you can keep him off the street while you question him further. That’s definitely a positive,” I said. “What about Roger Warren? Billy claimed he saw him arguing with Lisette down by the harbor on Saturday night.”
“Oh yes, Billy’s been telling us all about that, and we have the statements concerning his comments from you, Ms. Rivera, and Mr. Kepler as well. We did bring Dr. Warren in for questioning today, but again, we can only detain him so long without more evidence.”
“Does that mean this is another warning call?” I asked, focusing on Brent’s smile in the photo on the opposite wall.
“It is, but I wouldn’t be too concerned. We’ll keep tabs on Dr. Warren when we release him. I just wanted to give you a heads-up in case he slips past our surveillance and decides to stop by Chapters for a chat.”
“Chat, huh? You’ve met the man, right?”
“He does have a short fuse, but”—the detective softened her tone—“I’m not convinced he had anything to do with the murder. We’ve checked out his alibi for the rest of the evening, after he said he left Ms. Bradford quite alive at the docks, and he apparently did have car trouble. The service company confirmed it.”
“Unless he didn’t leave her alive …”
“Exactly. There’s that short span of time that’s unaccounted for, so we need to follow up with anyone, in addition to Mr. Bradford, who might have seen him near the waterfront on Saturday evening.”
“Or who saw Billy Bradford, I suppose.”
“We’re checking into all of that with people who were in the general area, and examining any CCTV camera footage from businesses in the area as well.”
“Do you still want Ellen Montgomery and me to collect any information we can gather at the two parties I’m hosting tomorrow? All of the current or recent guests will be in attendance at one or the other.”
“Definitely. Anything that sounds interesting, let me know right away.”
“I will.” I stared at my phone for a moment as another thought occurred to me. “Have you cleared anyone to leave town? I’d like to know, just in case one of the guests decides to make a sudden exit.”
“They can actually all leave, if they want. With Bradford in custody, and our eyes on Dr. Warren, I think we have the most likely suspects in our sights. Of course, the others have been warned that they must remain available for future questioning, if needed, but if your lodgers want to leave town, we have no legal reason to force them to stay.”
“Not even Tony Lott?” I asked. “I told you about that incident in the Old Burying Ground and his possible motive for harming Lisette.”
“We’re following a lead that may give Lott a solid alibi, so I think we have to give him the benefit of the doubt at the moment. Not to say we won’t keep him on our suspect list, but right now he’s not our top candidate.” Detective Johnson coughed, then apologized before continuing. “Darn allergies.”
“They can be tough,” I said sympathetically. “All right, we’ll proceed as if the culprit is in custody, but Ellen and I will still do a little sleuthing during tomorrow’s parties.”
“Thanks, that will be helpful. I don’t have the resources to have anyone infiltrate events at Chapters and anyway, I’m afraid my officers would stand out like the beacon of a lighthouse, whereas Ellen Montgomery …”
“Can be your unobtrusive super spy?” I chuckled. “Good use of what you have at hand, I’d say, Detective.”
“I am practical to a fault. Or so I’m told,” Detective Johnson said, before wishing me a good evening and hanging up.
I rearranged my pillows behind my back and pulled my computer onto my lap. While I had a few minutes to myself, I thought I’d do a little more internet searching into the more esoteric aspects of the case.
After falling down the rabbit hole that opened when I dug deeper into the information on Lisette Bradford’s Amanda Nobel fan club, I paused for a moment to clear my head. Glancing over at the still-to-be-read books stacked on my nightstand, the ARC of Amanda’s upcoming book caught my eye. Written by Lisette, I thought. Sad that she got a chance at publication only to be killed before that book came out, and without ever getting her name on a cover.
Turning my focus back onto the online information, I noticed a link in one comment that I’d overlooked before. Clicking through, I was intrigued when it actually led to an in-depth examination of the similarities between one of Amethyst Angel’s stories and a popular piece of fan fiction written by Lisette.
The writer of the blog post compared the two stories in detail, offering a side-by-side analysis. Reading through both texts surprised me—it turned out to be a damning indictment of Lisette Bradford. The similarities were far too close to be mere coincidence. Lisette’s story even included passages identical to those written by Amethyst Angel, give or take a word or two. The author of the article also offered time-stamped evidence that Amethyst Angel’s piece had been published at least six months before Lisette’s similar story.
“Definitely plagiarism,” I told Brent, who smiled back from his portrait with his well-remembered charm.
I knit my brows and once again considered the possibility that Molly Zeleski had written fan fiction under the Amethyst Angel pen name. That would certainly explain her vigorous defense of that author’s work, as well as her disdain for Lisette Bradford. But I was still unsure that such behavior on Lisette’s part, no matter how unethical, was enough to drive someone to murder. Especially since it had been some time since the plagiarism charges had flared up.
But what if there was a more recent wound … I glanced again at the pile of books on my nightstand. Stealing someone’s work was always despicable. Still, in the fan fiction world, that didn’t typically translate into a loss of income. But Lisette Bradford had received a payment of some kind for ghostwriting book thirteen in the Tides series. Whether a lot or a little, it was still money. She’d also garnered a professional writing credit, probably with promises of more to come.
“Think about it—if what Amanda told you is right, Lisette used Tony to get her name in front of Amanda’s publisher. Then she was probably hired primarily on the basis of that one fan fiction story,” I told Brent’s picture. “It was apparently extremely popular, and may have convinced the editorial board that Lisette had the skill to write the next Tides book. Unfortunately, what they didn’t know was that it wasn’t Lisette’s original creation. She’d stolen the concept, and much of the language, from someone else.”
I frowned. Lisette hadn’t just taken away another author’s source of pride and accomplishment. Although those were important things, they paled in comparison to the betrayal and anger Amethyst Angel would undoubtedly have felt if they’d learned that Lisette had also financially profited from her appropriated creation.
It wasn’t hard to imagine anyone feeling this was the ultimate blow—the final betrayal. Lisette’s contract with the publisher, and the possibility that it would open up future professional writing opportunities, would, I was sure, have felt like being stabbed through the heart.
The death of a dream, I thought as I stared at the paperback ARC. And if that isn’t enough to drive someone to murder, nothing is.