Chapter 1
Interviewing is a conversation, not an interrogation. Especially when you don’t wear a badge.
Something was missing. Okay, a lot of things were missing.
Meg Gates stared at the local authors’ shelf as she stood at the front door of Island Books, her mother’s bookstore.
She’d made the display eye-catching, but the shelves were almost empty.
Three weeks ago, her mom had promised she’d get Meg the list of books she’d been curating since she’d opened the shop.
Right now, only L. C. Aster’s books inhabited the bookcase.
Of course, Lilly Aster, Meg’s other boss, had been writing for years, so she had a lot of books to showcase.
Meg wanted to highlight other local authors as well. She typed out a text to her mom since her phone calls had gone unanswered that morning.
As she clicked Send, the bell over the door alerted her to a customer. “Welcome to Island Books, may I help you?”
“Where’s Mom?” Stephen “Junior” Gates beelined directly to the counter. “She usually works Tuesday mornings.”
“Good morning to you.” Meg rolled her eyes as she addressed her brother. Junior dressed like an accountant. Even on days off, he wore a polo shirt and chino shorts. He still worked for their dad at his accounting firm and the job fit his personality. Junior liked his life orderly.
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“I take off the second Tuesday of every month to take Mom to Seattle for lunch. I called her when I got on the ferry this morning. But she hasn’t answered.” Junior tried to peek around Meg. “I guess she must have gotten my message since you’re here to cover her. Is she in the back?”
“One, it’s not the second Tuesday, it’s the first. And no, she’s not here.
” Meg leaned back on the stool. “Funny, I haven’t been able to reach her by phone this morning either.
She emailed me on Monday with my hours for the week.
She didn’t explain, but I’m working the day shift on Tuesday, and then on Thursday I have the entire day from open to close.
She said I could close when it got slow Thursday night. Maybe she has appointments this week.”
Junior seemed to analyze the information as he read the back of a memoir of an English prime minister that a customer had left unpurchased on the register counter.
“But that doesn’t explain her not picking up her phone.
And why would she have appointments on two different days? You don’t think she’s sick, do you?”
“I saw her Sunday at church. She seemed fine.” Meg thought about how her mom had looked that day. She’d eaten her entire lunch at the restaurant and even ordered dessert. Something Mom never did. “She looked great. She even had a tan.”
“So you think it’s just a checkup?” Junior set the book down. “I wish she’d called me back so I wouldn’t have wasted a ferry ticket.”
“You were already heading here when you—” Meg started but then stopped. Explaining to Junior that the world didn’t run on his schedule was a waste of breath. She watched as he pulled his phone out and started texting someone. “So why did you come this week and not next week anyway?”
Junior’s face turned red.
“Junior?” Now Meg was curious. Her older brother had always been the steady one.
Meanwhile, Meg had been a three-time loser—she failed to finish college, then the tech startup she’d joined went bankrupt, and, of course, her wedding was canceled due to her fiancé’s lack of understanding of the definition of faithful.
Meg had returned to Bainbridge Island to live in an apartment over her aunt’s garage and work at her mom’s bookstore.
Junior, on the other hand, had finished his degree and gone to work for their father in Bellevue at his accounting firm.
She loved her family, but she hated that she was always seen as the needy one.
He kept his gaze on his phone. “I’ve got plans next week.”
“Plans. At work?” Meg noticed he’d turned even redder. When he didn’t answer, she asked again, “What plans?”
“I’m going to a conference in San Francisco if you must know.” He looked up and met her gaze. “Are you happy? Or do you need the rest of my schedule?”
“Why are you blushing about a conference?” Meg searched his face for clues. “Unless you’re going with a woman. Don’t tell me you’re dating someone at Dad’s firm. Please don’t let it be your secretary.”
Now Junior’s face turned scarlet. “We don’t have secretaries anymore. We have assistants. Besides, I’m not Dad. Anne works in corporate accounts. She’s an accountant. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks. We’ll be staying in separate rooms. Now are you happy?”
Meg felt bad about bringing up their father.
His new wife, Elaine, had been his secretary, but they both claimed that the relationship had changed from work friends to something romantic only after the divorce.
Meg wanted to believe him, but he’d been the first of her parents to start dating.
Mom still hadn’t gone out with anyone. At least as far as Meg knew.
She realized Junior was watching her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought Dad into the conversation. So, Anne, huh? She’s an accountant and what else? Is she from Seattle? What does she look like? Is she nice?”
The door to the shop opened and with the bell’s announcement, Dalton Hamilton walked into the shop. “Hey Junior, are you ready?”
“What’s going on?” Meg looked from Junior to Dalton. The two men had been friends since middle school.
“Mom’s not here so I checked in with Dalton to see if he had time for lunch.” He picked up the memoir again. “Put this on my account. Tell Mom I’ll call her later. When you see her.”
Watson, Meg’s tan cocker spaniel, had roused himself from his morning nap and started circling Dalton for attention. Dalton leaned down and gave the excited pup head rubs. Then he looked up at Meg. “Do you need me to take him out before we leave?”
“Would you?” Meg glanced at her watch. “He’s been asleep for almost three hours now. I’m sure he needs a walk.”
“Sure. And do you want me to bring you something back from the restaurant for lunch?” Dalton walked over and grabbed Watson’s leash from behind the counter.
Junior groaned as he perched on the edge of the couch. “You’ve been spending too much time here with my sister. Her dog loves you and you know where everything is.”
“Maybe you’ve just been spending too little time here,” Dalton countered and then headed to the door. “I’ll bring him back in a few and you can answer my lunch question.”
“No lunch,” Meg said as a group of tourists came into the bookstore. “I’m going to a writers’ meeting this evening over at the Island Diner. I brought a lunch.”
“I’ll come with you,” Junior declared as he followed Dalton out the door. “Just tell Mom I was here.”
“When I see her,” Meg muttered, then she smiled at a woman walking toward her. “What can I help you with?”
When Dalton brought back Watson, she had a line of customers at the register. He tucked the leash back under the counter as the dog headed to his water dish to refill. “Junior’s waiting for me at Island Diner. Do you need me to stay?”
She handed a credit card receipt and a bag to the customer she’d been helping. “No, I’m good, but thanks for taking him out.”
“My pleasure,” Dalton responded as he made his way out of the shop.
The next customer watched Dalton leave, then handed Meg her card after she’d rung up the book purchase. “Your boyfriend’s cute and thoughtful. You need to keep that one.”
Meg smiled as she ran the card. She turned the screen toward the customer for her signature. “Dalton’s not my boyfriend.”
“Oh?” The woman turned and looked out the window where Dalton had disappeared seconds before. “Does he know that?”
* * *
Mom hadn’t called back by the time Meg needed to close the shop. She could get dinner at the meeting, but she couldn’t take Watson inside the restaurant. She needed to take him home and feed him. And turn on his favorite movie.
Yes, her dog was spoiled. But he was also good company and kept Meg from talking to herself. She’d found him on a rescue website one day and had gone down to the shelter the same day to adopt him. She did one thing right—take care of her dog.
By the time she got back into town, the meeting had started. She grabbed a waitress and gave her order, then sat down at the back of the banquet room to wait for food while she listened to the presenter.
A man leaned over and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Lee Anderson. I’m a freelance food writer.”
Meg leaned closer so she could lower her voice. “Meg Gates. I guess I’m a nonfiction crime writer. I’m working on my first book. Who’s talking today?”
“That’s Crissy Lorde. She writes cozy mysteries and she’s talking about her experience self-publishing versus the more traditional route.
” He held up his notebook to show Meg. The page was empty except for the date that Lee had written on the right corner.
“I’d share my notes, but so far, I’ve got nothing.
She’s just talking about her own journey in writing.
But she promised ten comparisons between the two options sometime tonight.
The way she’s going, we might be here until midnight by the time she hits number ten. ”
Meg suppressed a giggle. The speakers at the writers’ group ranged from people who were just there to sell their book, to professional writers like L.
C. Aster who’d come to talk to the group about her thrillers last month.
Meg was Lilly’s author assistant and had recently told her boss that she was trying to write a nonfiction book about solving mysteries.
Lilly had suggested that Meg join the local writing group to meet other writers and learn about the industry.