Off the Books (Novel Idea, #5)

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’ve gone through this with him before, remember?”


She was referring to his stint a year or so ago with a commune on Red Fox Mountain. “I remember. And that didn’t turn out so well.”

“Relax.” She reached over and touched my wrist. “I’ve met Machiavelli’s owner, Oscar, and he’s an okay guy. And I’ve heard he’s a gifted chef. Trained at some famous culinary school in New York.”

“New York?” Oh, heavens. That’d be the next thing. Trey would want to go off and study in New York.

“Don’t worry, Lila. Trey’s going to be fine. He’s a hard worker and he’ll make his own way.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“She’s a smart woman.” She gave a little grin. “Different, but smart.” Which brought a smile to me as well. She gave me a quick hug and turned to leave just as Cora Scott walked up. “Oh hey, Cora. Good to see you,” Makayla said. “Sorry I can’t stay and visit, but I’ve gotta run.” She looked at me and added, “We’ll talk more later, okay?”

“I’ve been looking all over for Ms. Duke. Have you seen her?” Cora said as soon as Makayla left. “There’s something I feel I should discuss with her. A serious matter.”

“No, I haven’t seen her lately. Is this about Chuck? The news of his death must have been a shock to you.”

Her head bobbed up and down. “Yes, yes, it was quite a shock. Not that I knew him well. It’s just, to know he was murdered . . . well, it’s all so horrible. And now I feel caught in the middle of things.”

“Caught in the middle? How so?”

“Well . . .” She hesitated, wringing her hands and glancing about.

I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Does this have something to do with one of our authors?”

She pressed her lips tight, then opened them again and let out a long sigh. “Yes, yes, it does. You see, your Detective Griffiths stopped by a little while ago and was asking all sorts of questions about the two authors staying at my inn.”

“Lynn and Jodi?”

“Uh-huh. And I’m afraid I had to be truthful about something I observed happening, even though it probably caused trouble for Jodi.”

Uh-oh. “Of course you had to be truthful,” I said, trying to ease the discomfort she was obviously feeling. “Can you tell me what it was?”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t, but I feel you should know so you can be prepared. I think the police officer might arrest her. And all because of what I told them.”

“Arrest her?” I said, louder than I intended. A woman passing by turned her head and regarded us suspiciously. “Would you mind stepping over here?” I asked, pointing to a quiet spot in the corner of the room. “What is it you saw, Cora?” I asked as soon as we were out of the flow of traffic. I had a feeling this was going to be a doozy.

She brought her hands in front of her hips and began wringing them together. “I think Jodi and Chuck had a tryst.”

“Jodi and Chuck? Why do you say that?”

“Because I saw him coming out of her room the morning he was murdered. And when Jodi came down for breakfast that day, she seemed preoccupied with something.”

“What did Sean—I mean Detective Griffiths—say when you told him what you saw?”

“He thanked me. Said it was just the connection he was looking for. Then he made a phone call. I heard him requesting a search warrant. He left, but there’s still a police officer parked outside the inn.”

Sean had gone to pick up a warrant. I was sure of it. He was probably going to search Jodi’s room, maybe Lynn’s, too. “Thank you for telling me, Cora.” I reached out and touched her shoulder. “Can you excuse me, though? I’ll go see if I can find Bentley and let her know about this.” I started to leave, then turned back and gave her arm a quick squeeze. “You did the right thing letting us know, Cora. I know Ms. Duke will appreciate it.”

I stepped away and took out my cell to call Bentley right away. There was no answer. Shoot! I moved out to the main hallway and looked about, spying Jude not too far away. “Have you seen Bentley?” I asked.

“She went back to the office to get the dog. Said she’d be right back. Why?”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly about the dog, but it didn’t really matter. Bentley must not have answered her phone because she was en route. “How about Flora?” I asked.

“The last I saw her, she was at Jodi’s—”

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