Prose and Cons Page 10

  “In court?” Sadie squeaked.

  He turned his sorrowful Eeyore face in her direction. “I’m sure it won’t come to that. After talking with Rainwater, I got the distinct impression he doesn’t believe you’re guilty, but the man has to do his job.”

  “See there,” Grandma Daisy said, giving Sadie a side hug. “I told you there was nothing to worry about. This will be over soon enough.”

  The lawyer shook his head sadly. “When there is a murder case, there is always something to worry about. Until the real perpetrator is found, Sadie is in a whole mess of trouble.”

  Grandma Daisy scowled at the lawyer for undoing all her good efforts to cheer Sadie.

  Sadie shivered. “I don’t know if I can go back to my apartment for the night and sleep there knowing someone invaded my space and framed me for murder.” She took a breath. “Usually I would go stay with Grant, but he moved back into the big house at the winery with his parents after this summer. . . .” She trailed off.

  It came as no surprise that Sadie would not want to stay at the Mortons’ home. Grant’s parents had made it no secret they disapproved of Grant’s engagement to her. A jaded part of me wondered if that was why he’d asked Sadie to marry him in the first place, to upset his parents. It was interesting to learn he was living in the big house on the vineyard again, though. I didn’t know about this latest turn of events in Grant’s life. It seemed the elder Mortons wanted to keep a closer eye on their younger son. I knew Grant must hate the extra attention.

  “Don’t be silly. You will stay with Violet and me. Violet isn’t allowed back in her apartment tonight because of what happened. We’ll have an old-fashioned sleepover.” Grandma Daisy rubbed her hands together. “We’ll make Rice Krispie treats, do each other’s hair, and have a pillow fight. I should warn you my pillow-fighting skills are fierce.”

  Sadie smiled in spite of her tears. “I would like that. Rice Krispie treats are my favorite.”

  Grandma Daisy squeezed Sadie’s shoulders. “Let’s pick out a few outfits from your collection to dress Violet up in tonight. I keep telling her to make time to shop and dress up her professional wardrobe. After so many years in graduate school, she still dresses like a coed. Now that she is a professor in her own right, she needs to dress the part. I think you will know just what will make her stand out in the classroom.”

  Sadie’s trembling smile blossomed. “I do like to dress up Violet. She has the perfect coloring and figure for vintage clothing.”

  Nathan listened to their exchange with a bemused expression on his face. I would be their fashion guinea pig if it made Sadie and my grandmother both happy even for the briefest of moments.

  Grandma Daisy winked at me over Sadie’s head before she guided the girl back to Sadie’s shop.

  “Please be quick about it,” Baskin said. “We need to meet the police at your apartment.”

  Sadie’s shoulders drooped again, but she let Grandma Daisy lead her into Midcentury Vintage.

  The lampposts up and down the street began to flicker on as the sun dipped lower in the sky. I shivered at the loss of sunlight and wished I had thought to throw a jacket over my sweatshirt. Then I remembered I most likely would not be able to grab my jacket, since it was part of a crime scene. Music floated up the street from the direction of the Riverwalk as the evening entertainment began for the festival.

  I turned to Baskin again. “How much trouble is Sadie really in?”

  “It doesn’t look good for her,” he said in his melancholy way. “She’s a viable suspect. The only reason she hasn’t been arrested yet is because of the police chief’s goodwill. It’s hard to determine how long that will hold out.”

  “There must be others who wanted Anastasia dead,” Nathan said. “I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but she wasn’t a very nice woman.”

  “Sadie doesn’t have motive.” I wrapped my arms around my waist to conserve warmth.

  In my peripheral vision, I saw Nathan shrug out of his suit jacket. The next thing I knew, he draped the jacket over my shoulders.

  “Nathan, you’ll freeze,” I protested.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said quietly.

  I swallowed, but rather than argue with him, I wrapped the jacket more closely around myself. As I did, the scent of his aftershave wafted around me. The smell made it difficult to concentrate on the conversation with Sadie’s lawyer.

  The lawyer arched an eyebrow at me. “Are you sure she doesn’t have a motive? I haven’t been alone with her to ask her myself. I do plan to ask her. It would be much easier for me to keep her out of jail if I knew what motive she might have. I can’t help her if I don’t know everything she knows.”

  I shook my head. “I still can’t believe that she has a motive, but I’ll see if I can find out.” I adjusted the shoulders of Nathan’s jacket.

  “Or another suspect,” Nathan said.

  Baskin nodded. “It would be most helpful to find another suspect.” He shifted his feet. “But like I said, I do believe Chief Rainwater is not convinced Sadie did this, but she was in the best position to apply the poison to the dress. Who else would have been alone with the dress, not only to apply the nicotine, but to also have enough time for it to dry without Anastasia knowing?”

  I frowned. He had a point.

  Our conversation ended when Grandma Daisy and Sadie reappeared in Midcentury Vintage’s doorway. Sadie had several dresses slung over her arm, and they all had intricate beading and lots of sparkle. If wearing one of those cocktail dresses would help her get through this, I was willing to do it . . . or at least I thought I was. Sadie locked the door of her shop and tested it before she and Grandma Daisy joined Nathan, Baskin, and me on the sidewalk.

  “I don’t even know why I bothered to lock it. It didn’t keep out whoever tampered with Anastasia’s dress before.”

  “Do you want me to go with you to your apartment?” I asked. “I can be with you while they search the apartment.”

  Sadie began to nod, but the attorney shook his head. “It would be best if Sadie and I went to her apartment alone. When the police finish their search, I’ll drop her off at . . .”

  “My house,” Grandma Daisy said, and rattled off the address.

  “My car is parked in the public parking lot near the courthouse,” Baskin said. “I can go fetch it and drive back here to pick you up. It might take me a little time with this crowd, though. It’s never easy to drive a car up or down River Road during the Food and Wine Festival.”

  “No.” Sadie shook her head and her sleek black ponytail dusted her cheek. “I’ll walk with you. I think it will help clear my head.”

  I took off Nathan’s jacket and handed it to him before I took the dresses from Sadie’s arms. “We’ll be waiting for you at Grandma Daisy’s when you’re done. I can’t wait to play dress-up.”

  She laughed. “You’re lying, but I appreciate it.”

  “Miss Cunningham,” Baskin said. “We should go. I expect Rainwater will have his warrant soon.”

  She nodded and joined Baskin on the sidewalk. Grandma Daisy, Nathan, and I watched them walk away in silence.

  THIRTEEN

  After Sadie and Baskin left, Nathan helped Grandma Daisy and me put the impromptu sidewalk sale back inside Charming Books under the watchful supervision of another of Rainwater’s officers. Richard pitched in too. By the time Grandma Daisy and I reached my grandmother’s two-story row house that night, it was dark.

  Grandma Daisy’s house was still in the historic district, but there weren’t very many tourists this far away from the Riverwalk this late at night. The street, normally active in the evening with neighbors dropping in on one another and children’s laughter floating out of the windows, was silent as the entire population was either working at the festival or checking it out for themselves.

  I parked my bike beside Grandma Daisy’s g
arage, and Emerson leaped from the basket. The only one missing from our little family was Faulkner. Grandma Daisy had tried to convince him to come, but the crow wasn’t having it, and since Rainwater’s officer seemed to be absolutely terrified of the big black bird, he didn’t argue with Grandma Daisy when she said that Faulkner was to remain in the bookshop.

  Grandma Daisy was just unlocking her front door when a dark sedan stopped in front of the house. Sadie got out of the car and removed a small rolling suitcase from the backseat.

  I met Sadie in the driveway. “How did it go?”

  She shook her head. “The police took my e-cigarettes and all my liquid nicotine from my apartment. The strawberry-flavored one I had was gone. I swear I put it with the rest of them, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. “That still doesn’t prove it was yours.”

  “It does, I think.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “I bought it from a company online.”

  “Did you tell him it was your bottle?” Grandma Daisy joined us in the driveway.

  Sadie shook her head. “Not outright, no.”

  “Thank heavens for that,” Grandma Daisy said.

  “But he’s going to figure it out,” Sadie said glumly. “I bought the nicotine with my credit card.”

  Sadie was right. Rainwater would figure it out if he hadn’t already.

  Sadie swiped a tear from her cheek. “David said I could stay in my apartment and that I didn’t have to leave. He doesn’t consider it a crime scene, but I don’t think I can stay there. Not tonight.”

  I hugged her. “You can stay here as long as you need.”

  “I suggest we discuss this more inside,” Grandma Daisy said. “We need a nice pot of tea, and those Rice Krispie treats are calling my name.”

  “Mine too,” I agreed.

  Sadie and I followed Grandma Daisy to the house. Grandma Daisy opened her front door, and Emerson ran inside like he thought he owned the place, which in his mind he did.

  “Let me start the tea.” Grandma Daisy held the front door open for us. “That will make all of us feel better. I’d call for a pizza, but I doubt there is anyone to deliver it with the festival going on.”

  Sadie parked her suitcase by the front door and wrung her hands. “I don’t want you to miss out on the festival because of me.”

  “Pish,” Grandma Daisy said. “I’ve been to the festival every year for over sixty years. There’s nothing there I haven’t seen before. Don’t you worry. We have the leftover cookies from the Poe-try Reading and I have some lasagna in the freezer we can heat up. Now, you take a seat and I’ll go make that tea.” Before she left the room, Grandma Daisy gave me a look. I interpreted it to mean “Find out her motive.”

  Sadie perched on the edge of my grandmother’s sofa, and I sat across from her in an armchair.

  She buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this has happened. How did I get tangled up in this?”

  “Why do you think someone would frame you for Anastasia’s murder?” It was a question that needed to be asked.

  She lifted her face from her hands. “I don’t know.”

  “This wasn’t a random act.” I leaned back in the chair, and Emerson leaped into my lap. The tuxedo cat curled into a black-and-white ball of fur and went immediately to sleep. “Someone must have tampered with the dress while it was in your shop, unless they did it after Anastasia took it home. Those are the only options, and in any case, someone took your liquid nicotine from your apartment and put it on the dress. That is a very well-planned crime.”

  She wrapped the end of her long ponytail around her finger. “But why? Why me?”

  “At last night’s Red Inkers meeting, you seemed upset after being alone in the kitchen with Anastasia. What happened while you were in the kitchen? Did she say something to you that upset you?”

  “I wasn’t upset. Maybe you thought I was because I was nervous about everyone liking their clothing for the Poe-try Reading. You know how seriously I take my clothes.” She wouldn’t meet my gaze.

  I shook my head. “It was more than that. I saw it and I know David saw it too.”

  Sadie concentrated on the floor. “I don’t have anything to tell you.”

  I leaned forward, and Emerson made a snuffling sound to let me know that he disapproved of the minor disturbance to his slumber. “Sadie, I know something happened. You looked like someone told you Versace was going out of business.”

  She hugged a throw pillow to her chest.

  “What happened in the kitchen the night of the Red Inkers meeting?”

  She squeezed the pillow even more tightly. By how closely she was holding it, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it burst and feathers flew all over the room. Emerson appeared to have the same opinion because he jumped off my lap and onto the sofa next to Sadie. His gaze was focused on the pillow as if he was hoping for those feathers to emerge.

  I was about to ask her the question again when she said, “Anastasia dug up something from my past and threatened to use it against me.”

  I blinked at her. Of all the things she could have said, that was the least likely to come to my mind. It was just too hard to imagine sweet Sadie having skeletons in her closet. “What was it?”

  As I asked my last question, Grandma Daisy stepped into the living room with a tea tray. “I made peppermint tea. It will soothe us after this day, and it’s too late for caffeine.” The lemon madeleines from La Crepe Jolie were in a place of honor in the center of the tray. She set the tray on the coffee table and studied our serious faces. “It seems that I walked into the middle of a conversation. I’ll let you girls talk and start dinner.”

  Sadie shook her head. “Daisy, please stay. I want you to hear this too.”

  “If you’re sure.” Grandma Daisy sat on the couch next to Sadie with two madeleines in her hands.

  “Sadie, what secret did Anastasia know about you?” I asked, trying to put the conversation back on track.

  My grandmother’s eyes widened ever so slightly, but she didn’t say anything.

  Tears gathered in Sadie’s eyes. “I plagiarized,” she said barely above a whisper and with so much guilt, you would think she was confessing to the murder.

  I gaped at her. “Your book?” Sadie was in the process of writing a romance novel. I had read an early draft of it. It was very good. She was an extremely talented writer, but what if those words weren’t really hers?

  Her face flushed red. “No, no, I would never do that. It was on a paper back in college during my junior year. I borrowed a friend’s paper. She wrote a paper on the same topic but went to another university. My friend let me use it, not that it made it right,” she added quickly. “I was having such a terrible semester. Grant would have nothing to do with me. I was in love with him even back then. I was in the middle of an emotional breakdown and the paper was due the next day. My friend offered me her paper, and in a moment of weakness, I took her up on her offer.”

  “How did you get caught?” I asked.

  “I’d had the same professor for a couple of classes before, and she knew my writing style. When my paper didn’t sound like me, she confronted me. I cracked under the pressure of her interrogation and confessed everything.”

  “What was your punishment?” I asked.

  Most colleges and universities had the option of expulsion for any student caught plagiarizing. It was considered an unforgivable sin in academia, at least in theory. I knew that most institutions would give a student who was a first-time offender a second chance.

  “She failed me and I retook the class in the summer. I was so afraid I would get thrown out of the university.”

  Grandma took the pillow from her hands and handed her a cup of peppermint tea. Sadie nodded gratefully and curled her fingers around the teacup.

  I selected a cookie
from the tray. “You weren’t expelled from the university. How could Anastasia use this against you? It was so long ago. I don’t know what it has to do with anything now.” My brow wrinkled in confusion. “You would not believe the number of undergraduate students I have caught plagiarizing since I’ve been teaching, sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally. It hasn’t ruined them, and it won’t ruin you either.”

  “Violet, you don’t understand. I’m a writer, and I’m trying to find an agent for my book. If Anastasia spread rumors to writers’ Web sites that I have a history of plagiarism, it could ruin my chances of being signed by an agent or selling my book to a publisher.” She took a shuddering breath. “She even threatened to e-mail the agents I planned to query and tell them not to sign me because of it.”

  “They couldn’t possibly take her seriously. They don’t know her.”

  She wouldn’t meet my eyes again. “With the number of unpublished authors trying to grab agents’ attention, why would the agents take a risk on a writer with baggage?”

  Maybe she had a point. With all the thousands of unpublished writers in the world, why would an agent or a publisher take the risk on one with a questionable writing background when there was a surplus of other equally talented authors querying at the same time? “How did she find out?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. My best guess is that she talked to someone at my university in Kentucky who knew about it. She never said who, but she did know about it. When she told me she had the information, she said the name of my professor, the class that I cheated in, and the name of my friend whose paper I used. She had all the facts.”

  “Grant,” I said. “He must have known.”

  She pulled back as if she was trying to melt into the sofa. “Grant would never tell anyone. He’s my fiancé.”

  I bit my tongue, holding back the question on the tip of my tongue, which was, where was he now?

  Grandma Daisy poured another cup of tea and handed a cup and saucer to me. “That was so long ago. I don’t know what power that information has over your life now. What did Anastasia plan to do with it?”