I nodded, happy to have another person from Novel Idea in my corner. “I’d be glad to come with you. I can’t wait to see whether Carson can produce notes or an outline or a sample chapter proving that he wrote The Alexandria Society.”
Bentley told Jude to hold down the fort and then stopped in her office to grab her purse. She popped open a compact and deftly applied red lipstick. “If Carson is the author, I won’t need to view proof of his work. He’ll be able to answer trivia questions from his own novel. If he can’t, then I’ll accuse him of plagiarism, and you’ll be there to witness his reaction.”
I followed her down the hall, hustling to keep pace with her quick, determined stride. “Shouldn’t we wait for the police? Or take Jude along? If Carson feels cornered, he might turn violent.”
Bentley stopped short and swung around to face me. Her eyes were icy with rage. “I hope he does. I’ve got a can of pepper spray and a pair of brass knuckles in my bag, and I’d love the chance to use them.”
DURING THE DRIVE to Carson’s place in Dunston, Bentley stared straight ahead, her hands firmly clutching the steering wheel. I surreptitiously texted Sean about what we were doing, hoping he would receive the text in time to meet us there. She pulled up alongside a gray apartment block on a lane not far from the railway tracks. Bentley’s silver BMW seemed incongruous with the neighborhood, and its horn beeped three separate times as she repeatedly clicked the lock button on her key while walking up the path leading to the middle building.
“He lives here?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Apartment 302,” Bentley replied, pushing the front door open. I had to stop it from closing on me as I hastened to keep up with her. Her sharp heels echoed in the stairwell as we climbed to the third floor. “Apparently he’s put in an offer on a house on Walden Woods Circle. The charming yellow one. ‘More suitable for a successful author,’ he said. Hmph, if he’s a fraud, his real estate deal will fall through as fast as his book deal.”
I gripped the banister tightly, thinking about Carson moving into my Walden Woods Circle house. It couldn’t happen! He was a thief and a murderer, and should be punished for his crimes. The yellow house deserved someone with a good heart and a clear sense of right and wrong. Someone like me.
At apartment 302, Bentley slid a hand inside her purse, most likely preparing to use her pepper spray. The hallway was dimly lit, barely enhanced by the sun shining through a grimy window at one end. Sounds of a morning television talk show came from the apartment behind us, and the cry of a baby filtered through a door farther down.
“Let’s see what Mr. Knight has to say for himself,” Bentley remarked as she rapped sharply on the door. We waited.
Nothing.
She knocked again, meeting my gaze.
“Guess he’s not home,” I ventured. I glanced behind me, hoping to see Sean arriving.
She nodded. “I have to agree.” Turning on her heel, she marched back to the stairwell. “Come on, Lila. Back to the office. Our encounter with Mr. Knight will have to wait.”
The drive to the office was as quiet as before, but the atmosphere in the car had altered. Bentley’s anger had diminished, and her hold on the steering wheel was less white-knuckled.
I stared out the window, disappointed over not having had the opportunity to confront Carson, but also somewhat relieved. Who knows what might have transpired if he’d been home and we’d challenged his integrity? The image of Luella arranged on her bloodstained sheets flitted across my mind, and I shook it away, knowing that Carson was best left to the police.
At the entrance to the agency, I hesitated. It would take five minutes via scooter to get to the Secret Garden where Addison could possibly tell me more about Carson’s query.
Turning to Bentley, I said, “Ms. Burlington-Duke? I’d like to run an errand before returning to the office.”
She peered at me with raised eyebrows. “An errand?”
“It’s related to this case. I want to talk to Addison Eckhart—”
“That incompetent? What on earth could she tell you?” Bentley stepped impatiently across the threshold.
“She worked at the agency when Jude received Carson’s query and might remember something important.” I gestured at my Vespa, which was parked at the curb across the street. “I’d be back in less than half an hour.”
Bentley glanced at her watch. “Off you go, then. You’re probably too distracted to be very productive in any case.” Just before the door to the lobby closed, I heard the words, “I admire your tenacity, Lila. You’re going to go far in this business.”
ADDISON WAS PUTTING the finishing touches on a floral arrangement when I walked into the garden center. The bell on the door tinkled, and she looked up in the middle of inserting a spiraled bamboo shoot amidst three elegant bird-of-paradise stalks.
“Hey! How are you liking my scooter?” She flipped her long braid off her shoulder.