Chapter 14

An hour later, I was back in the hotel, waiting for Lex, who hadn’t been interviewing our keynote speaker after all.

Obviously.

Lex had been en route when the hotel manager called with a potential lead that needed immediate attention. The next time the detective saw Flynn was in the cemetery.

At the scene, he had to help collect statements from everyone on the tour, but Lex had kindly talked to me first so I could leave. I’d returned to the room and collapsed on the bed. All I wanted to do was sleep and ease the pressure in my head. But whenever I closed my eyes, I relived what I’d seen in the grave: man, dirt, shovel. The latter had been bagged by crime scene investigators, but not before I observed something dark red on it. Someone had used that shovel on Flynn, I was sure. The shout and thump I’d heard before I ended up in the freezer—was that the murder in progress?

It was too awful. I couldn’t believe he was gone.

Sitting up, I grabbed the book of essays from my nightstand—the Go Ahead and Scream title now carrying terrible resonance—and looked at the final section, which included pictures of Flynn at work in his office, pages of the manuscript covered with editing marks, and an overhead shot of his desk, which was cluttered. I studied them all closely. Nothing jumped out at me, but there was something about the last picture that tugged at my mind.

I squinted and brought the picture closer. Was that Selene’s ring on the desk? What would that be doing there?

I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a picture of it to show Lex. Immediately after the snap, the phone trilled, sending me a mile into the air. It was going to be a long time before this jumpiness subsided.

“I have the list,” Richmond said after I answered.

I was silent, trying to make sense of his words.

“You know, the list of scholars who submitted to the McMaster book?”

“Oh, thank you! Where are you? I’ll come down.”

We made plans to meet in the lobby by the main fountain. I didn’t know if he’d heard about Flynn or not. Everyone on the tour knew what had happened, so word was likely to be getting around like wildfire, but if he hadn’t yet been informed, I’d have to tell him.

The whole elevator ride down, I tried out different ways of bringing it up, but there wasn’t a smooth way of delivering such news.

As I walked across the lobby, Acadia raced up and clutched my arm. “I need to speak to you.” She pulled me into a nook behind a sunflower sculpture. “I heard...you found Flynn, right?”

I nodded.

She shook her head. “So sad. It’s devastating.”

“Absolutely tragic,” I agreed.

Acadia craned her neck, checking to see if anyone was within earshot. Once she was satisfied that we were in a safe zone, she let go of my arm.

“People keep asking if we’re going to cancel the rest of the conference. The police even suggested that we consider it. I’ve gone through this from every angle. It’s quite conceivable, even likely, that the killer—”

“Or killers?” I blurted out. I mean, we didn’t know how many were involved. Her eyes widened and she affirmed my point with a nod as she continued her sentence.

“—is here, among us. But I can’t afford to cancel at this point. People have paid upfront. If we end it now, they’ll ask for their money back, and I won’t be able to pay the hotel bill.”

“I see.”

“But if we don’t cancel, then the killer may strike again.”

“That’s true.”

“But if we do cancel, the killer may strike again anyway.”

I was trying to follow her logic when she went on. “You know what? Never mind. It’s only a few more hours, right? And the Gala is the most anticipated event of the whole week. We have to keep going.” She set her jaw and pulled herself up. “Thank you for the talk. I really needed to bounce it off of someone. Now I have my answer.”

She marched across the lobby with visible resolve. I guessed she was heading toward a conversation with Chief Cortez or someone in a position of authority.

I followed, speeding up when I saw Richmond in one of the club chairs near the multi-tiered fountain. He was holding a sheet of paper and staring dejectedly into the water. I took the chair next to him and said hello.

“Lila, good to see you. Glad that you’re still in one piece.” He stopped short and stroked his chin. “That’s not something I’d usually say to a person, but with people dropping like flies around here, perhaps you’ll forgive me. Under the circumstances.”

So he had heard already. News was orbiting the conference at light speed.

“I’m glad to see that you’re doing well too, Richmond. And yes, we are in unusual circumstances.”

He contemplated his shoes—one of the polished wingtips needed tying but he didn’t seem inclined to remedy the situation—before replying. “Do you have any idea what’s going on? What does your detective friend have to say?”

“We haven’t been able to talk since...this afternoon,” I said.

“Well, before that. Does he have anyone in his sights?”

“Maybe multiple suspects? I haven’t heard of anyone in particular.”

He made a harrumphing sound. “You’ll forgive me again for my impatience, but it is making me very nervous that the people around me, in particular, appear to be targeted. Not that I was feeling very happy with Flynn, mind you. He’s made a mess of things for us at the press, but I certainly wouldn’t wish any bodily harm on him.”

It seemed like an odd thing to say. I watched him closely. Was he telling the truth or playing defense?

A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye, and he stuck a finger behind the lens of his glasses to press on the lid. He cleared his throat, obviously struggling to gain control over his emotions. “Anyway, I hope that the police will find out who is behind this. I would leave early, but of course there’s the matter of the award, which is supposed to be presented tonight. Which is its own problem. We didn’t even get to the question part of the panel—” Richmond stopped short and shifted positions. “Never mind about that.”

I went for broke. “Are you talking about Selene’s manuscript?” I hadn’t bought Simone’s explanation, but I didn’t know what was going on, either, generally speaking.

He glowered. “How—how do you know about that?”

“I found her notebook on the table after she fainted. Remember I tried to give it to you, and you asked me to return it to Selene instead?”

“Ah. So you’re aware that there’s an issue.”

I hadn’t shown Richmond or Candace the blank paper in the notebook, but he appeared to be informed. And we both understood what he meant by issue.

“Well, I saw those pages. Did she turn in a different manuscript to the judges?”

“I shouldn’t talk to you about it.”

“Of course.” I blushed. “I’m sorry. I was just curious.”

He held his breath, seeming to want to say more, but instead tightened his lips and pitched himself forward, out of the chair. “No need to apologize. I think we’re all under quite a strain right about now. You just reminded me that I must find the judges and have a conversation, so thank you for that.”

He handed me the page and bid me farewell for now.

The latest panels had just finished up, and the lobby was filling with scholars. He took a few steps ahead and disappeared into the crowd.

I scanned the list and noted only one person who was here at the conference: Beckett Thurber Standhouse, III.

As if summoned, the man himself strolled by a few feet away, holding hands with Selene. Today, he was wearing a blue suit with a red tie. She wore a dress in the exact same shade of red. I wondered if they’d planned it or if that was just how their life went: they were so perfectly suited that they matched without trying. Their hair was even the same shade of sun-kissed yellow.

Was it me, or was that a little too Stepford?

I needed to go tell Lex about the name on the list.

  

“Beckett Standhouse?”

“The third,” I added, since Selene wasn’t here to say it.

Lex pondered this. “He’s the only one?”

“Yes. And the more I think about it, the more it might make sense that he’s part of the puzzle. Beckett has a book coming out on Flynn McMaster, which means he’s an expert who has already been recognized by the press as such since they’ve given him a contract—”

“It must have been quite a slap in the face to be rejected from the critical guide project.” Lex had picked up on my line of reasoning. “That would give him cause to be angry with the editors.”

“Like Ellis.” I paced across the room. “And he’s close friends with Flynn too.”

Lex’s head shot up. “They went to grad school together.”

“And now they work at Fairlake University in the same department.” I stopped in front of the window and gazed at the sunset, all orange and red at the horizon with a curtain of blue pressing down from above. “Or they did.”

We both were silent for a moment.

Lex cleared his throat. “We should ask your friend Nate if there’s any history there.”

“I can do that. Last night, they seemed fine, reliving their college days.”

“Okay, so Dr. Standhouse has zoomed up the charts as someone who might actually wish to do Ellis harm.” He paused. “But why target Ellis? What about the other people who work at the press?”

“Maybe he isn’t the only target there. Maybe he’s just the first one to be attacked.”

Lex nodded.

“Though now there’s Flynn as well, and he didn’t work at the press.”

“And we’re back to Beckett having a friendship with Flynn.” He wrote something in his trusty notepad.

“They genuinely seemed to care about each other.”

Lex gave me a meaningful look. The kind that said I was far too trusting.

“Those were the biggest bear hugs I’ve ever seen. And ‘bro’ was used many times.”

“People don’t always advertise their true feelings. You know that. Let’s give Beckett a visit.” He pulled a stack of papers out of the canvas field bag he used as a briefcase, explaining that he’d obtained a list of room numbers for all the conference attendees to make things easier. He scribbled Beckett’s room number into his notepad and flipped the cover shut.

We went quickly to the room and knocked on the door. The TV was blaring inside. Lex made an exasperated sound and knocked louder.

“The food’s here,” Beckett was saying over his shoulder as he opened the door. He’d loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt. His jaw dropped when he saw us standing there.

Selene came up and draped her arm over him. “Hello,” she purred at Lex. She was wearing a very elegant—and very short—silk robe that threatened to open with her next movement.

“Do you, uh, want to come inside?” Beckett took a step backwards, pulling Selene with him. She stumbled a little but caught her balance and drifted into the bathroom. I could only hope it was to add some additional layers of clothing.

“Thanks,” Lex said briskly, moving forward. I followed. Selene smirked as she closed the door to the bathroom slowly, peering through the crack.

Creepy.

The room was a mess, with clothes strewn over the desk, sofa, loveseat, coffee table, and king-sized bed. It was as if their suitcases had simply exploded in there. Beckett windmilled around the room, grabbing items from seemingly everywhere at once, and piled them on the bed. He turned off the television and ran a hand through the hair that flopped over his brow.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “We weren’t expecting company.”

“No problem. We won’t take up too much of your time, Dr. Standhouse. We’d just like to go over a few questions.”

“Sure, sure.” Beckett perched awkwardly on the loveseat. He crossed his arms across his chest, then uncrossed them, then crossed them again. “Whatcha got for me?” His casual tone was at odds with his body language.

“How well did you know Ellis Gardner?”

“He’s my colleague.” His hand flew up to his mouth, and he looked stricken. “Was. Was my colleague.”

“And you worked together with Flynn McMaster at Fairlake as well?”

“Yes. We are—were—all in the English department. Along with Candace and Richmond.”

“And me, darling. Don’t forget me. I also work there.” Selene emerged from the bathroom, a cloying scent arriving as she did. She was still in the robe, I noted. So basically, she just ducked in there to put on perfume?

I wished I could assign demerits.

“Did you ever have any disagreements with Ellis?”

Beckett turned his head back and forth between us, then recoiled. “Wait, you don’t think I had anything to do with his...his...”

“Death,” Selene interjected calmly.

“We’re not making any accusations at the present time,” Lex said. “We’re trying to gather information.”

“The only thing Ellis and I ever argued about was the Oxford comma,” Beckett said, adamantly. “Otherwise, we were fine, always.”

Lex dipped his chin. “What about the book?”

Beckett had a blank look.

“The critical anthology,” I clarified.

He didn’t move. “I read it,” he said slowly. “Not sure what you’re getting at.”

“You submitted an abstract—”

“Oh! Right. But I didn’t get in.”

“Were you upset about that?”

“I was at first,” Beckett said, his cheeks reddening.

“He was mortified,” Selene chimed in, which only intensified Beckett’s blush. That didn’t seem like the most supportive thing she could have done, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Okay, yes. I was embarrassed. You could say that. But after a few days, I realized they’d probably excluded me because I had a book coming out with them and they didn’t want to dilute my argument. You know, having it appear in both places.”

Lex checked in with a glance, and I nodded. Made sense. Sort of.

“I got over it,” Beckett mumbled. “And I wasn’t mad at Ellis.”

“Detective Archer,” Selene laughed prettily, “you already know who is furious with Ellis. It’s Flynn. He announced it to everyone at dinner last night.”

Lex cut his eyes to her.

“They sent him a copy of the critical guide a week before the conference, as a courtesy, and as soon as he read it, he was enraged. I happened to pass by his office one day and overheard him complaining about the book to someone on the phone. Still, I never thought he’d turn his keynote address into...whatever that was.” She smoothed her hair back, the diamond in her ring catching a sunbeam and producing a multicolored spot that slid over the walls with her movements. “Not that I think Flynn would ever hurt a fly. He doesn’t believe in violence.”

“He writes about it enough,” Lex said.

She rolled her eyes. “But that’s literary. Authors write all kinds of things that they don’t do or think themselves, Detective Archer. You know that.”

“Mmm hmm.” Lex didn’t appear persuaded.

“Yeah, you should talk to Flynn,” said Beckett, obviously relieved to be able to point a finger in another direction.

“We can’t do that,” Lex said slowly.

“Why not?” Beckett asked indignantly. He warmed to his theme. “Why is it only me you’re talking to? I didn’t do anything.”

“Because he’s gone,” Lex said softly. “I’m sorry to report that—”

“Gone?” Selene repeated. “He left? Where did he go?”

The detective shook his head.

After a beat, they both seemed to understand simultaneously.

“He’s dead?” Beckett gasped.

Selene gripped his shoulder as tears began to roll down her face. “What happened?”

“We’re still trying to sort that out,” Lex said.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said.

The two of them clasped each other and wept.

Which, Lex said later, was either raw grief or excellent acting.

This detective stuff had the potential to make one very cynical.