CHAPTER TWENTY
Kate pulled into the parking lot of a small shopping center and dialed DeMarco's number.
The evening was fast approaching, and she intended to stay true to her promise to be home by seven.
She needed to touch base with DeMarco before continuing with her interviews; she only had Eleanor left, and seeing as how she'd already spoken with her twice outside of the group, she wasn't a very high priority.
The afternoon had been productive but frustrating, with each conversation revealing more about the book club's internal dynamics while failing to identify a clear suspect among the remaining members.
The phone rang twice before DeMarco picked up.
"DeMarco, how are your interviews going?" Kate asked.
"I've cleared Carol Stevens," DeMarco replied.
"She was at her granddaughter's soccer game Tuesday evening with about fifty witnesses, and she was having dinner with a group of ladies she meets with a few times a month after that.
Patricia Dunham's husband confirmed her whereabouts for both nights, though his testimony isn't exactly ironclad. "
"I've had similar results. Diana Clark was working a double shift at the hospital Tuesday night, and it’s not looking like Patricia Dunham is our killer, either. Right now, I’m planning to circle back to Eleanor Whitman, but I'm pretty certain she's clean."
"I'm about to interview Sandra Morrison. I already called her to make sure she’d be home. Want to tag along?"
Kate found that she did want to tag along.
"Actually, yes… if you don’t mind. Sandra was the one who originally invited Margaret to join the book club, and she seemed to have the strongest opinions about maintaining the group's literary standards.
I'd like to observe her responses to more direct questioning. "
"The more the merrier! Meet me at 1425 Riverside Road. It's about ten minutes from where you are now."
Kate typed the address in and headed that way instantly. Her clock now read 4:46, which meant she maybe had two solid hours to chase down leads before heading home.
She arrived at Sandra Morrison's address to find DeMarco waiting in her car at the curb.
Sandra's house was a well-maintained Victorian with elaborate gingerbread trim and a large wrap-around porch that suggested someone who took pride in preserving historical details.
A few sizable oak trees lined the property, and the front yard was landscaped with the kind of formal flower beds that required considerable maintenance.
"Impressive house," Kate observed as she joined DeMarco on the sidewalk.
"Sandra inherited it from her parents about fifteen years ago, according to records," DeMarco said. "She's lived here her entire life, which might explain her strong attachment to maintaining traditions and established ways of doing things."
They approached the front porch, where Sandra was already waiting for them in one of several wicker chairs arranged around a small table.
She wore a navy cardigan over a white blouse, and her silver hair was styled in the same neat arrangement Kate remembered from the book club meeting.
But today, Sandra's expression carried an edge of wariness that hadn't been present during the group gathering.
Once again, Kate had to go through her explanation… that she was an FBI agent and she was sorry if she about having lied to everyone the night before. Sandra seemed not to care; in fact, she almost seemed as if she’d expected such a thing.
"I guess it makes sense,” Sandra said. “For Eleanor to so warmly welcome someone to the group like that… it did seem a little strange.”
"Again, I apologize for the deception, but it was necessary for our investigation," Kate replied as they settled into the porch furniture. "We hope you understand that we're trying to protect the remaining book club members."
Sandra's jaw tightened slightly. "Remaining members? Has something happened to someone else?"
Kate and DeMarco exchanged glances. "Mrs. Morrison, we have some difficult news," DeMarco began. "Jennifer Haynes was found dead in her home this morning. We believe her death is connected to Margaret's murder."
Sandra's reaction was immediate and devastating. Her face crumpled as if she'd been physically struck, and tears began flowing down her cheeks before she could even speak. She pressed both hands to her mouth, making small, anguished sounds that suggested genuine shock and grief.
"Jennifer?” she said in something like a whispered shriek. “How is that… I mean… Jennifer? How… how did she die?"
"We can't discuss the specific details of our investigation," Kate said gently. "But we can tell you that we believe someone is targeting book club members specifically."
Sandra continued crying, dabbing at her eyes with tissues while struggling to compose herself. "This is insane. Who would want to hurt people from our book club? No one in that group would hurt a fly and… and…”
She stopped here and gave way to more crying. Kate and DeMarco let her work through it without pressing. After about thirty seconds or so, when Sandra had her breathing under control, DeMarco did her best to get things back on track.
"That's what we're trying to determine," DeMarco said. "Mrs. Morrison, we understand you've been with the group since its founding. You probably know the members better than anyone else."
Sandra nodded, still fighting tears. "Twenty-two years. Eleanor and I started the club together when our children were in high school. We wanted intelligent literary discussion, something more substantial than the casual book groups that were becoming so popular at the time."
"You invited Margaret to join the group about four or five years ago," Kate said. "What made you think she would be a good fit?"
"Margaret was exactly what we needed," Sandra replied, her voice growing stronger as she talked about her friend.
"She had a master's degree in library science, extensive knowledge of classic literature, and a genuine passion for serious literary analysis.
I know it might sound snobby, but she elevated our discussions considerably. "
"But not everyone appreciated Margaret's approach to literary criticism, right?” DeMarco said.
Sandra's expression hardened slightly. "Some of the newer members found Margaret intimidating, yes. But that was because they weren't accustomed to the level of intellectual rigor that serious book discussion requires."
Kate noted the defensive tone in Sandra's voice. "It sounds like you supported Margaret's critical approach, even when it created tension within the group."
"I supported maintaining standards," Sandra said firmly.
"Eleanor and I founded this group with very specific goals.
We wanted challenging book selections, prepared participants, and thoughtful analysis.
When members started joining who wanted to turn our meetings into social hours, Margaret and I felt obligated to preserve the group's original purpose. "
"Can you give us specific examples of conflicts between Margaret and other members?" Kate asked.
Sandra considered the question while wiping the last of her tears.
"Margaret could be quite direct when someone offered an interpretation that she felt was superficial or inaccurate.
She would correct factual errors, point out missed themes, and challenge members to think more deeply about what they'd read.
And any time it started to become just a chatty hangout, she always veered it back on track. "
Kate leaned forward a bit and said, “We understand you've been keeping detailed records of the book club's activities over the years. Correct?"
Sandra's expression became guarded. "I keep meeting notes, yes. It helps with planning future selections and remembering what we've already discussed."
"What do the meeting notes usually entail?" Kate asked.
"I maintain a database of every book we've read over the past twenty years, along with notes about our discussions and members' takeaways and thoughts. It helps ensure we don't repeat selections and allows me to recommend books based on individual preferences."
Kate felt a spike of interest. Sandra's record-keeping would give her intimate knowledge of every member's reading habits, preferences, and responses to specific types of literature. "Do your notes include personal information about members' reactions and contributions?"
"Sometimes, yes. If someone has a particularly strong response to a book, or if they provide insight that enhances our understanding, I make note of it." Sandra paused. "It helps me understand what kinds of selections will generate the best discussions."
"Mrs. Morrison, have you tried to remove newer members from the group?"
"I've had conversations with Eleanor about maintaining our standards, yes.
When people join a book club, they should understand what's expected of them.
If they want casual discussion about popular fiction, there are other groups that cater to those preferences.
" She shook her head and Kate saw that she was once again fighting with tears. “All of this… God, it seems so unimportant in the face of what’s happened…”
Kate could see the passion and frustration in Sandra's expression as she defended her position. She was about to ask another question, but DeMarco’s phone began ringing, interrupting the conversation. Demarco glanced at the screen and stepped away from the porch furniture to take the call.
Kate continued her questioning while DeMarco spoke quietly into her phone. "During your years with the group, have you noticed any member whose behavior ever seemed concerning or unstable?"
Sandra shook her head slowly. "Everyone who's joined our group has been educated, thoughtful, perfectly normal. We're very careful about who we invite to become members."
"What about former members? Anyone who left under difficult circumstances?"
"A few people have left over the years, usually citing scheduling conflicts. But no one who seemed angry or resentful enough to harbor grudges."
Before she could ask anything else, DeMarco returned to the porch, her expression grim.
"Kate, we need to go. That was the police. There's been another incident."
Sandra looked between the two agents with growing alarm. "Another incident? What kind of incident?"
DeMarco's voice was tight with urgency. "Eleanor Whitman was found dead in her backyard about fifteen minutes ago. Her daughter discovered the body."
Sandra let out a strangled cry and buried her face in her hands. "Eleanor?” she shrieked. “Oh my God, Eleanor?" She looked up to Kate and DeMarco with a shocked and pleading expression. “What the hell is happening?”
Kate felt cold shock wash over her as the implications sank in. Eleanor, who had seemed so concerned about the safety of her book club members. Eleanor, who had been helping with their investigation. Eleanor, who Kate had specifically warned to take precautions and stay with family.
"Mrs. Morrison, we need you to be extremely careful about your personal safety," Kate said, standing up from her chair.
"Don't go anywhere alone, don't open your door to unexpected visitors, and call us immediately if you notice anything unusual.
And for right now… please, head inside and lock your doors. "
Sandra got to her feet and did what she was asked, sobbing the whole time. She walked like a zombie, her hand missing the doorknob twice.
“We’ll have someone come over to keep an eye on your home,” DeMarco said as she and Kate hurried down the porch stairs.
As Kate and DeMarco hurried toward their cars, Kate found herself wondering if they were dealing with a killer who was accelerating their timeline, or if Eleanor's death meant they had been completely wrong about the motives behind the murders.
Either way, this case had just gotten much more dangerous and unpredictable.