Scripted to Slay Read online

  He put his hand on mind. "A while, Harvey. A few hours, I'd say." He squeezed my fingers. "Don't worry. You couldn't have helped her."

  I sighed as relief and sadness pulsed under the skin on my throat. "Okay." I let out a long slow breath. "What do you need from me?"

  "I think I've got it," Tuck said as he took out his notebook. "Keep this quiet for now, okay, Harvey?"

  I nodded. "Right. Wouldn't want the St. Marin's grapevine to reach her family before you do?"

  "Precisely."

  2

  Alas, even though I kept my mouth shut about Lizzie's death and decided not to even tell Daniel or Mart until the next day, Tuck and I underestimated the power of the scanner-owning community in St. Marin's. By the time Mayhem and I made the walk home, Mart had texted twice and even called once to see if I was okay since the dispatcher's call for police presence had included my name because I'd made the 911 call.

  Symeon kept a scanner going at his house because he worked as a volunteer firefighter. I knew this because when, one night, I’d forgotten my keys and called the dispatcher at the sheriff’s office to see if Tuck could swing by to help me out since he wasn’t answering his cell phone, the request had gone out by radio, a fact that I would never live down. But I also wouldn’t ever be locked out because the entire police department and fire department donated to make me twelve sets of keys. I now had them stashed everywhere.

  I took off Mayhem's leash and was just dialing Mart’s number when I heard a vehicle in the driveway.

  I looked out and Daniel's wrecker had parked behind my car and he and his Basset Hound, Taco, were jogging across the snowy driveway. Daniel looked anxious, so I tugged the door open and shouted, "I'm fine," and waved my phone. Unfortunately, my shout distracted Daniel from watching his footing, and he took a nosedive into the snow-covered azaleas in the front of our house. Taco, with his almost stomach-draggingly-low center of gravity, kept his footing and watched his master tumble.

  I rushed out to see if he was okay and slipped on the sidewalk I hadn't bothered to shovel, and a moment later, Mayhem was standing over me as if to say, "Why exactly are you on the ground?" I groaned and rolled over to look at Daniel. He was already on his feet and headed my way. He helped me up, and when he saw I was okay – both from the 911 call that he had also heard and the fall – he began to laugh. I could tell he was trying to suppress it because his shoulders were shaking, but eventually, I got giggling. Soon, we were slipping our way back to the house as we laughed out loud.

  Aslan greeted us at the open door and whisked her tail. Clearly, the cold air was annoying her highness because when we got in the house, she headed back to my room, where I was sure she'd taken up her throne on the chenille throw I left at the foot of my bed for just that purpose.

  Once we were all settled, dried off, and warming up by the fire Daniel quickly built, he turned to me and said, "So what happened?

  I put my hands on either side of his face. "You're not usually a worrier. Long day?"

  "Just too many cars in ditches. Too many people hurt because of reckless choices."

  I looked outside and saw a few stars coming out. "Looks like the worst is over, though. Looks like your duties are over for the night." I knew I should ask him to stay, but I had kind of been looking forward to having the evening to myself, especially after the shock of finding out a woman had been killed in the place I had dinner.

  Daniel kissed my cheek. "Well, since I am my own boss and most of the main roads are now clear, I'm all yours for the evening." He stood up. "But before you tell me about your excitement, any chance you have some leftovers I can heat up? I'm starving."

  I smiled. "You sit. I'll fix homemade hamburger helper just for you." I didn't often get a chance to cook, and while this meal wasn't exactly extravagant, it was filling and one of Daniel's favorites. Plus, I could have it ready in twenty minutes.

  So while I browned ground beef and slid the macaroni and other ingredients into the largest skillet I owned, I told Daniel about Lizzie's death and caught him up on my dinner at Max's place and his strangely respectful behavior.

  "Maybe he's actually going to succeed in wooing you away," Daniel said with a tiny bit of tension in his voice that I decided to ignore.

  "Well, he does make a great risotto," I said, pretending to ponder my options. "But he got pretty snarky with me later, so I think you're safe."

  "Hey Siri, take a note," Daniel said into the air.

  "What do you want your note to say?" the phone in Daniel's pocket responded.

  "Learn how to make mushroom risotto," Daniel said.

  I laughed.

  * * *

  We spent the rest of the night watching Outer Banks and answering texts from our friends as the word about Lizzie's death spread. I talked Daniel into the show on the promise of a treasure hunt, and he put up with my love of teenage drama because he was a good guy. By the time I headed to bed and Daniel took up his spot on the couch, Taco and Mayhem were putting on a full snore symphony by the fire, and everyone knew about the young woman who had died in Max's restaurant. The odd thing was, however, that no one knew her, not even a little, and in a place as small and close as St. Marin's that's rare and cause for a full-on gossip-driven investigation.

  By the time I reached All Booked Up the next morning, the gossip train had created a mythic version of Lizzie Bordo that incorporated a tragic past in a mansion outside Baltimore, a deranged ex-boyfriend who was after her millions, and a false identity. I had my doubts about the first two, but I could not imagine that someone had actually named their child Lizzie Bordo, so I thought an alias was pretty likely. Still, I didn't like to speculate about people's lives. Each of us has stories, hard stories usually, and I don't know anyone who wants someone else deciding who gets to know those stories and how. So I decided to wait to hear what Tuck wanted to share when he was ready.

  Meanwhile, I kept myself busy putting out the new releases. Tuesday was new book day everywhere, and while I had known what titles were going on sale that day for weeks, I never got over the thrill of sliding a new title onto the shelf. Today, I was particularly jazzed to put out the sequel to Hafsah Faizal's fantasy series and Remote Control by Nnedi Okorafor, an author whose work I simply adored. I loved fantasy novels, and people were often surprised by that fact. Something about me – my sort of "boho meets farm-girl" look, my love of dogs, my often wild hair? – made people think I only read literary fiction. I loved literary fiction, but give me magic or some sort of supernatural entity, and I'm all in.

  By the time I had the front tables rearranged with Faizal's and Okorafor's books featured, last week's new releases shuffled back just a bit on the displays, and the new orders I'd requested to replace titles we'd just sold, it was almost noon, and I was starving. The English muffins that Daniel and I had toasted with honey and peanut butter that morning had long since worn off, and I was ready for something delicious.

  Daniel must have picked up on the strong taco vibes I was sending his way because he appeared just as I was about to text him and say, "Chicken with mole." He was carrying two bags stamped with our friend Lu's logo. Lu ran the best food truck on the Eastern Shore, and she served her family's recipes of classic Mexican fare. Most days, I chose her carnitas tacos, but her mole sauce was calling to me today. Fortunately, the taco vibes were strong, and Daniel had brought just what I wanted.

  We were just sitting down to eat in the backroom of the store when I heard the bell ring over the front door and then, a moment later, saw my assistant manager, Marcus's, head pop around the breakroom door. "Tuck and Lu are here," he said. "I assume it's okay to send them back unless you want me to tell the sheriff and the woman whose food you are about to inhale to come back later." He winked.

  Marcus was the best assistant manager in the world. He knew books. He loved his job, and while he respected me as his boss, he didn't hesitate to tease me like a friend should. He knew I'd want to see Tuck, and since I adored not only Tuck's wife's
food but his wife herself, I was always happy to see them both. "Please, send them back," I said in my most ostentatious voice.

  Two seconds later, the couple burst through the door with their arms spread and said, in unison, "We have arrived," as if they had just come to a great ball at some fine castle.

  "We come bearing gifts," Tuck said with a bow as he held out two plates of dulce de leche cake.

  I grinned. "Well, then, fine people, you are welcome."

  Daniel stood, bowed slightly, and pulled out two chairs. When our friends had stepped in front of their chairs, he slid Lu's chair into the back of her knees, and she sat down with a dainty lilt of her hands. When Daniel moved toward Tuck's seat, the sheriff raised a hand and said, "Thanks. I've got this."

  For a few moments, we all ate in silence. Apparently, Daniel had known they were coming because there were enough tacos for all of us. Well, there were enough for all of us if I didn't eat four. But I showed restraint.

  When we'd all had our fill of mole and cake, I looked at Tuck expectantly and said, "I so appreciate the cake, but you know the gift I desire most."

  Tuck rolled his eyes but then grinned mischievously. "What makes you think I have information to share?"

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. "Seriously, the only time you come in this store is when you have an investigation under way. If I didn't know you have a deep affinity for Wallace Stegner and William Least Heat Moon, I'd think you a disparager of books."

  Tuck sighed. "You forgot to add A. S. Byatt to your list of my favorites."

  I laughed. Tuck was one of the few men and the only black man I personally knew who appreciated the British author as much as I did. He and I had bored Lu and Daniel almost to death one night at dinner when we'd starting discussing her book Babel Tower, and about once a week, we made some obscure Byatt reference that only we get. It was amazing.

  But he wasn't much of a book buyer. Unlike me, he re-read his favorites over and over. I however almost never re-read because of my ever-increasing conviction that I would die before I read everything I wanted to read. Tuck went deep; I went wide. It was a classic clash of reading styles, but I didn't mind. Any person who read anything with passion was good in my book.

  "So, what's the news?" I asked with boldness.

  The sheriff scowled at me briefly and then said, "Lizzie was murdered. Strangled, I think. But that's just information. I actually need your help."

  I sucked in a quick breath. Most of the time Tuck wanted me to butt out of his investigations, and for good reason. So the fact that he needed my help wasn't just exciting, it was rare, the best kind of exciting. "Of course. What can I do?"

  Next to me, Daniel shifted in his seat and moaned quietly. He really, really hated my curiosity. Really hated it.

  He sighed. "Well, we were right about Lizzie's name. There's no mention of a woman fitting her description and named Lizzie Bordo that goes back more than six months. It's like she appeared out of thin air."

  I nodded. "So it was an alias. I hoped so. Otherwise, she had either intensely cool or profoundly cruel parents." I sat back and let my mind leap around for a few seconds. A woman who applied for a job as a bartender chose a misspelling of a wine for her name but also chose a name that referred back to a famous ax murderer. "She chose that name for a very specific reason," I blurted as the realization hit me.

  Tuck nodded. "That's what I'm thinking, too, which is why I need your help." He looked down at his hands, and I saw a flush rush over his cheeks.

  I squinted at my friend. He wasn't telling me something. "Okay, tell me why you need my help, and tell me what I'm not going to like about what you're going to say."

  The sheriff's eyes flashed up to mine, and he shrugged. "Good news or bad news?"

  "Bad news. Always bad news first. Leaves me with something to look forward to."

  "Okay, I need you to work with Max." He leaned back as if he thought I might smack him, and I might have if I wasn't opposed to even minor – and well-deserved – acts of violence.

  "Why?" I spat the word. Even the generous and thoughtful meal last night could not make up for Max's ham-handed courting of me, especially not after his snarky attitude when we found Lizzie's body.

  "Max is a sommelier," Tuck said.

  I groaned. "So he's going to investigate the Bordeaux angle, and I'm supposed to take on the Lizzie Borden one, right?"

  Tuck looked at Daniel. "She's a smart one."

  "She's not that smart if she agrees to this escapade," Daniel replied as he gave me a long, significant look of warning. "Just say no, Harvey."

  I stared at Daniel, looked back at Tuck, smiled at Lu, and then shoved most of a taco in my mouth to buy some time before answering. Despite the fact that Tuck had been the first to remark on the victim's name and the reference to one of the most infamous murderers in American history, I was actually the Lizzie Borden aficionado. My interest in her came in college when a postmodern fiction professor who let us call him by his first name and was, thus, immediately the best professor in the world, introduced me to the work of Angela Carter.

  Carter's feminist retellings of fairy tales – like when Beauty actually liberates herself from the Beast instead of staying to love him despite of his imprisonment of her – sparked something in me that spoke of truth. Don't get me wrong. I love a dancing tea cup and grandfather clock as much as anyone, but I needed, especially as I entered adulthood, to see a woman challenge much of what was accepted about how women should be treated. Carter was my entrance into a world where women were powerful equals who took control of their own fates. I fell in love with her work immediately.

  Then, when I read her take on Lizzie Borden's actions in her story "The Fall River Axe Murders," I became a fan for life. Carter's story suggested that Lizzie had PMDD and had perhaps been a victim of abuse within her family. Thus, her alleged actions were, perhaps, justified. I didn't know if I agreed with the idea that anything justified the brutal murder of anyone, but the story led me down a life-long fascination with Lizzie Borden. I'd read everything I could about her, about the murders, and about what was clearly an incomplete investigation and too-quick arrest of the young woman. To say I was a Lizzie Borden encyclopedia would not be overstating.

  All that's to say, I knew why Tuck was asking for my help – if this young woman had taken a name to reference Lizzie Borden, I was the one who could figure out why. I had made my fascination with her known my first October in town when I’d dressed as her for Halloween, ax and all.

  I swallowed the last morsels of delicious taco and then nodded. "Okay, I'll help, but only on two conditions: first, I am not talking with Max. If he and I need to share information we do it through email with you copied in. I want a witness to any of his nonsense."

  Daniel sighed. He wasn't happy, but he wasn't protesting much. And I knew he'd like that email provision. I also knew he'd really like my next condition.

  "Secondly, no one outside of this room can know I'm helping. I don't want to get involved in any other aspect of the investigation. I don't want to talk to anyone but the three of you about this. Agreed?"

  Tuck looked at Daniel and then at Lu, and then as if on cue, all three of them started to laugh. Then, they started to guffaw. Within seconds, tears were streaming out of Daniel's eyes.

  I stared at my friends and felt anger rising in my chest. "What is so funny?" I shouted.

  None of them could stop laughing long enough to explain, but Daniel kept trying and then having to hold up a finger while he collapsed into laughter again.

  Finally, they began to get control of themselves, and Daniel took my hand. "Harvey, dear Harvey, your condition is reasonable except for one thing."

  I was bewildered. "What?!

  "You," Lu and Tuck said at the same moment.

  I stared at my friends, expecting one of them to explain, but they just looked at me as they tried to keep bubbles of laughter to keep from bursting from their mouths. "What are you talking about? I don't un
derstand."

  Daniel, all mirth gone from his eyes now that he could see I was really confused, caught his breath and said, "Harvey, I'm sorry. It feels so obvious to us, but apparently, it's not to you." He squeezed my fingers and said gently but directly. "Love, you cannot keep a secret to save your life."

  "Literally," Tuck added with a gentle smile. "I won't tell anyone a thing, and I'm sure Lu and Daniel are happy to do the same. But Harvey, if you really don't want anyone to know what you're doing for this investigation, it's you that needs telling to be quiet."

  I scowled at my friends and wanted to storm out in self-righteous anger. But somewhere behind my ribs, I knew they were right. I hated secrets and was, thus, terrible at keeping them. Privacy I respected – I didn't gossip, and I didn't share stories that weren't mine to tell – but secrets usually came with dark underbellies, and I loathed the way they often infected the people who kept them. In the past, I'd been entrusted with some big secrets, secrets related to murder, and I had not even once kept one of those secrets. I didn't regret that, but I could see what my friends were saying.

  I dropped my head back over the top of my chair and looked at the ceiling. Then, I slowly lifted my head and said, "You're right."

  Daniel kissed the tips of my fingers. "So do you want to withdraw that second condition?"

  I shook my head. "No, I want to modify it. No one but our people can know. But I want all of us to know. We're having a picnic in the store tonight."

  Lu stood and helped Tuck to his feet. "I'm bringing hot toddies," she said.

  "I like this plan, " Tuck said with a kiss on his wife's cheek. "Seven? I'll ask Cate to coordinate food."

  I nodded. "Good. I'll gather some preliminary information, connect with Max," I felt my chest constrict at the very thought, "and be ready to share tonight."