I pressed the photo album icon on my phone’s screen and scrolled through the pictures I’d taken in July. There was Althea in her garden, plucking a fat tomato from a plant a foot taller than her. She grinned widely and I knew she was already planning to use the fresh tomato in a Caprese salad. I could picture the herb garden behind her house, where several varieties of basil perfumed the summer air.
Next, there were eight shots from the Red Fox Mountain Co-op. The first showed Trey feeding an apple to a goat. In the second, he and Iris had paused in the middle of weaving a hammock out of hemp to wave for the camera.
I touched his face with my index finger, praying that I’d see him again soon, and that when I did, he’d give me one of his famous bear hugs. I moved on to a picture Trey had taken of me standing in front of my yellow cottage on moving day. What I’d give to be inside my cozy little house right now!
Having scrolled through my photos, I checked the clock on my cell phone. Only three minutes had passed since Sean’s last text. How long would this nightmare last?
Suddenly, I heard a knock on Flora’s door. I stiffened as she called out, “Come on in!”
“Where’s Lila?” Jude asked.
Flora turned her music down. “I’m sorry, dear. She told me she needed a break. Could I help you with something?”
I held my breath and wished Jude would leave before Kirk showed up to sign his contract. A bead of sweat was trickling down my forehead, but I dared not move to wipe it off. I wanted to be invisible and inaudible, to not exist for a slice of time so that I could avoid coming face-to-face with a murderer.
“She thinks my new client is some homicidal maniac.” Jude’s voice was somewhat irritated. “And I want her to meet him so she can see for herself that he’s as nice as can be. The only thing sinister about him is his writing, and that’s going to make Mason and me a little wealthier. Kirk Mason’s our newest author. Oh, here he is now. Can I introduce you?”
To my horror, Flora said, “Of course. Let me just get up so I can shake Mr. Mason’s hand.”
As my forehead and palms grew clammy, I glanced at my cell phone. Sean was at least ten minutes away. Squeezing my eyes shut, I listened intently. Would Mason sense my presence in the room? Would Flora give me away? I didn’t dare breathe.
Flora didn’t betray my hiding place, but my cell phone did. I’d foolishly left the ringer on, and the energetic notes of a salsa melody burst out of the speaker. Fumbling for the mute button, I saw Trey’s name on the call display.
“Call you back,” I whispered and severed the connection.
Too late. With a creak, the wardrobe door eased open and Jude’s face mercifully blocked most of the glare from Flora’s ceiling light as well as the figure of the man in black.
“What are you doing in there?” he asked in surprise.
Instead of answering, I steeled myself and inched sideways, looking around Jude’s shoulder at the tall, slim bald man standing next to Flora. He stared at me in puzzlement and I couldn’t even blink, such was my own astonishment.
“Kirk Mason?” I croaked, taking in his black leather jacket and slightly lined, middle-aged face. He had no piercings and his eyes were a lovely shade of sky blue.
He nodded but made no move toward me. “Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”
I looked from Jude to Kirk and back to Jude again. “Is Kirk Mason his pen name?”
“No, it isn’t. My client, Mr. Kirk Mason, is not the man you saw at the book festival, Lila. Kirk here was called out of town on an emergency and missed his pitch appointment. I’m sure you’ve also taken note of the physical dissimilarities between this man and the man you believe to be Kirk Mason.”
“Didn’t he know the police were looking for him? Where was he all this time?” I gazed at the man named Kirk Mason.
His cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. “I spent the week in Tennessee, at the bedside of a dear friend who was very ill. I went there rather suddenly, neglecting to tell people where I was.” He shrugged. “I had no idea anyone would be looking for me.”
A smile played around the corners of Jude’s mouth and he held out his hand. “May I help you out of the broom closet, milady?”
Stepping out of the wardrobe on wobbly legs, I tried to summon a sheepish grin for Kirk Mason, but failed. I’m sure the fact that I’d been hiding in a closet and then mercilessly stared at him had made Mr. Mason feel more than a little uncomfortable. However, I did not possess enough mental acuity to explain myself to him. Tilly’s orphan son Justyn was the killer, and now I had no idea what his real name was or how the police would ever be able to hunt him down. One thing was clear, however: This man was not Justyn. He was no murderer. He was a gentleman writer by the name of Kirk Mason.
“Welcome to Novel Idea. I’m Lila Wilkins,” I said to him in a dry rasp. “Please forgive me. I’m…dealing with some personal issues.” I moved to the door and then turned back to Jude. “Why don’t you buy Mr. Mason a cup of coffee downstairs? My treat.”
Jude cocked his head quizzically. “I was going to introduce him to Franklin and Zach first.”