Chapter Ten
Charlotte gave him a cheerful greeting, but Dylan still seemed uneasy. Charlotte quickly said, “Hey, I got that new poetry collection. The Kaveh Akbar one. You’d been asking about it.”
Dylan’s features cleared. “Oh, thanks. I’ve been wanting to read it.”
“I kept it behind the register for you. Just in case there are other big poetry fans out here in Sunset Ridge.” She gave him a wink as if to say she seriously doubted it.
Charlotte handed him the book, and Dylan almost reverently started turning the pages. Then he hastily pulled out some crumpled bills from his wallet, handing them to Charlotte. “Thanks. I can’t wait to read it.”
She gave him his change, and Dylan looked as if he might hurry off. Then he seemed to focus back on Charlotte. “I heard what happened. Are you okay? That must have been . . . ” He seemed to search for a word before settling on one. “Upsetting.”
Charlotte nodded. “It was. And still very unsettling.” She gestured to Sam. “Sam was with me, too.”
Dylan gave Sam a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. Sorry for you both. What an awful thing to have happened. I mean, Margaret was challenging, but I never wished her any harm. Was it a heart attack?”
That seemed to be the ailment of choice everyone had chosen to explain Margaret’s death. But then, Margaret had told everyone she was on heart medication.
Charlotte looked over at Sam. Sam said, “The police are treating it as a suspicious death.”
“Are they?” Dylan paled. “You’re saying she was murdered?”
Sam nodded.
Dylan said, “What, like someone broke into the shop and killed Margaret?”
Charlotte shook her head. “It sounds like Margaret might have been murdered at the end of book club. That’s right, isn’t it, Sam?”
“That’s what it sounds like.”
Dylan sat down heavily in a chair. “I had no idea. I thought she had suffered some kind of natural death. That was bad enough.” He swallowed. “So the police are involved?”
Sam said, “Yes. I’m sure they’ll probably be speaking with everyone who was at book club. Have they reached out to you, yet?”
“No.” He sighed. “This is awful. I bet the cops are going to focus on me right away. The whole town knows Margaret savaged me in the newspaper after the open mic night.”
Charlotte firmly said, “That’s not true. Not everyone reads the paper. And even the subscribers don’t read every story.”
“Sure, but it won’t take much for the cops to search Margaret’s name and have the article come up.” He paused. “Did the police say how they thought she died?” He frowned. “Or could you tell? Were there, like, marks on her neck or a head wound or something?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I didn’t see anything like that. Did you, Sam?”
“Nothing.”
Dylan said slowly, “So, do they think she was poisoned, then? If she wasn’t strangled and didn’t have any head trauma?”
“I guess that’s something forensics is going to have to determine,” said Sam.
Dylan said, “I wasn’t anywhere around her tea.”
“It was actually coffee,” said Charlotte.
“Whatever. Whatever she was drinking, I wasn’t near it. Like I said, Margaret was pretty challenging. I do my best to just stay away from her whenever I can. So I wasn’t beside her.”
Although Sam did remember Margaret talking briefly to Dylan before the meeting started. He’d looked tense. Had Margaret been holding her coffee then? Had it been unattended? She couldn’t remember.
Dylan continued, “I left right after the meeting was done, too. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.” He gave Charlotte an apologetic look. “Sorry. I love book club. I just wasn’t crazy about Margaret. I went home, and was working on revising my poems until something like two a.m.”
Sam said, “That’s real dedication.”
He shrugged. “I want to prove to myself that I wasn’t what she said I was.
That I’m better than just a hack poet. But nobody can confirm that, though, so I won’t have an alibi for the cops.
I live by myself in a studio apartment.” He sighed.
“I have a hard time thinking of anybody in book club being a killer.”
“What did everyone else make of Margaret?” asked Sam.
Dylan gave a short laugh. “They all liked her about as much as I did. I know Claire can’t stand her, although she’s tried hard to, considering she’s the club president.
Gerald always looked kind of sick whenever Margaret was around.
He looked especially ill when Margaret talked about writing her memoir last month. ”
Sam raised her eyebrows. “Margaret was a writer?”
“Well, she fancied herself one. Considering what a perfectionist Margaret was, I’m not sure how far along she got with her book.
Pamela wasn’t fond of hearing about the memoir, either.
Maybe she thought Margaret was going to behave even worse at book club if she became a published author.
It’s hard to imagine Margaret being worse, but I guess it’s possible.
I wouldn’t have liked it, either. I’d love to get a chapbook published. ”
Sam said, “Are you able to work on your writing full-time?” She had the feeling this wasn’t the case, but wondered if Dylan’s parents might be playing the role of patrons.
Dylan gave another abrupt laugh. “I wish. I’ve been working at the community center. I teach a beginners creative writing course and a poetry workshop. Aside from that, I get a few hours waiting tables at a restaurant downtown.”
“The workshops sound like fun. Do you enjoy teaching?” asked Sam.
Dylan looked pleased. “I like using my MFA. That’s a Master of Fine Arts.”
“Wow, good for you,” said Sam. “I’ve heard those are tough to get.”
Charlotte gave Dylan a proud look. “He’s even gotten a grant from the local arts council for teaching underserved populations.”
“A small grant,” said Dylan modestly. “But it’s nice to get the support while doing something I love.”
“Do you have any workshops coming up?” asked Sam. “I’ve always thought a writing class would be fun to take. Not that I’d ever be serious with writing, but I like trying new things.”
“Not right now. I just finished a session. Spring workshops are on hold due to budget cuts. But I can let you know if that changes.”
“Thanks.”
Dylan glanced at his watch. “I’d better head out now. Good talking to you both. Take it easy; you deserve it after finding Margaret.”
After Dylan walked out, Charlotte shook her head. “I worry about Dylan, I have to admit. He’s such a sensitive guy. I feel like the world just crushes him.” She paused. “I wonder if the workshop was really canceled because of budget cuts.”
“What do you think happened?”
Charlotte pursed her lips. “Maybe Dylan pulled out of it out of embarrassment. Maybe he thought no one would sign up for a creative writing or poetry course from someone who had such a public embarrassment like he did at the open mic night.”
There was a loud beeping sound behind the shop, and Charlotte raised her hands in dismay. “I forgot about the book shipment.”
“I need to get going, anyway. See you later, Charlotte.”
Sam headed back home to take care of Arlo. It wasn’t just Arlo, of course. Sam wanted to get all her thoughts out of her head and onto paper.
She pulled into her driveway, turned off the engine, and sat for a moment in the quiet. Through the front window, she could see Arlo’s face pressed against the glass, his tail wagging so hard his whole body wiggled.
Inside, she was greeted with enthusiastic snuffles and circling. “I know, I know. I’ve been gone too long, haven’t I?” Sam gave him a thorough ear rub before heading to the kitchen to refill his water bowl.
Her notebook sat on the kitchen table where she’d left it. She opened it and wrote “Book Club—What I Know.”
She started with the obvious suspects: everyone who’d been at the meeting.
Claire Mills: Club President
Motive: Margaret savagely critiqued her romance manuscript (years of work).
Seems more hurt than angry. Too obvious?
Pointed me toward Gerald.
Gerald Parker: Club Treasurer
Motive??
Behavior: Extremely nervous, evasive, deflecting
Left book club quickly (unusual for him per Charlotte)
Hiding something?
Pointed me to Sofia
Dylan Morrison: Poet
Motive: Public humiliation at open mic night
Margaret gave a negative quote for an article in the local paper
Works at the community center teaching creative writing and poetry
Mentioned Gerald and Pamela disliking Margaret
Sofia Smith: Graduate Student
Motive: ??? None apparent
Behavior: Very evasive. Might know more about Margaret than she admits?
New member to the club
Claimed she went straight home to work on school project
Pointed me toward Dylan
Pamela Cross: Retired Librarian
Motive: ???
Behavior: Haven’t yet spoken with her. Only saw her at book club
Dylan noticed she was uncomfortable hearing about Margaret’s memoir, as did Gerald.
Charlotte saw her at the library, crying. Left quickly after book club without saying goodbye.
It seemed like there might be more to learn about Margaret’s memoir. Aiden’s police friends might know something about its content if they’d searched Margaret’s home. Chief Hawkins was unlikely to share anything with her, and she knew the state police wouldn’t, if they were on the case by now.
The doorbell rang, making Sam jump. Arlo barked once, then trotted toward the front door, tail wagging. Not a threat, then.
Sam opened the door to find Nora, her sharp-tongued neighbor from down the street, standing on her porch, juggling a covered casserole dish in one hand while Precious strained at the leash in her other hand. The pit bull was wearing what appeared to be a small argyle sweater vest.
“Don’t get excited, it’s not for you,” Nora said briskly to Arlo, who was wagging his tail. She tried to maneuver past Sam while Precious lunged forward to greet Arlo. The leash wrapped around Nora’s legs. “Precious, for heaven’s sake. Sam, a little help?”
Sam grabbed the casserole dish before Nora could drop it, pushed the door wider, and offered her arm to her. Arlo and Precious began their usual greeting ritual of sniffing and tail-wagging.
“Well, hello there, Arlo. At least someone’s happy to see me,” Nora said, unwinding herself from Precious’s leash.
“I’m happy to see you,” Sam said, closing the door. “I’m just surprised. Did we have plans?”
“No, but I saw your car pull up and figured you’d been out doing your amateur detective thing.
” Nora unclipped Precious’s leash, and the pit bull immediately began his inspection of the living room while Arlo followed behind like a devoted admirer.
Nora set her purse down and spotted Sam’s notebook on the kitchen table.
“Ah-ha! Making lists of suspects, are we?”
“Nora—”’
“Don’t Nora me. This is precisely what you do. Very organized, very thorough.” She peered at the notebook before Sam could close it. “Ooh, you’ve got everyone listed, haven’t you? Even Pamela. Who seems innocuous enough. And rather old.”
Sam said, “I’m just trying to make sense of what happened.”
“Mm-hmm.” Nora opened Sam’s refrigerator without asking and pulled out a bottle of sparkling water.
“This casserole is for Edith Martin. She’s at Sunset Ridge Senior Living, recovering from a hip replacement.
I made her chicken and rice, which is basically invalid food, but that’s what she requested. ”
“That’s nice of you.”
“I have my moments.” Nora took a sip of water. “Anyway, I was going to drop it off, but then I thought you’ve probably been running around town all day talking to people. Have you eaten anything substantial?”
Sam wasn’t sure that the granola bars she had for breakfast counted as substantial in Nora’s eyes.
Nora gave a sniff as if she’d thought as much. “You could come with me to see Edith. Then we shall get an early dinner at that Italian place afterward.”
“I hate to intrude on your visit with your friend.”
“Please. Edith will love you. And Precious, of course. She’s bored out of her mind, and all I’m going to do is drop off the casserole.
She’s not supposed to have long visits yet.
” Nora glanced at Sam’s notebook again. “As I recall in my quick perusal of your notes, you were looking for a way to speak with Pamela.”
Sam sighed. There seemed to be no point in denying it. “I’m just trying to get impressions from everyone who was at book club.”
“Well then.” Nora’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Lucky for you, Pamela volunteers at Sunset Ridge Senior Living each week. She’s in their library, for the most part, organizing book donations from the community.
There’s an excellent chance she’ll be there right now. Completely coincidentally, of course.”
Sam gave Nora a suspicious look. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
“I simply planned to bring Edith her casserole. Of course, I did know Pamela volunteered there and that she was a book club member. The woman does love books. Anyway, what you do while you’re at the retirement home is completely up to you.
” Nora called to Precious, who was now trying to climb onto Sam’s couch despite his stocky build.
“Come on, you ridiculous animal. We’re leaving now, whether Sam comes or not. ”
“Let me grab my purse,” said Sam. “Should I bring Arlo? For company?”
“Absolutely. The residents love seeing dogs.” Nora was already clipping Precious’s leash back on. “Besides, being accompanied by two dogs makes it look even less like you’re there to interrogate anyone.”