Mercedes almost told them about the 1976 Tour of the Honeycutt Manor, but decided against it. The other writers were also suspects, at least in her mind, and she didn’t want to tip her hand that she planned to visit the scene of the Madison Square murder.
The conversation finally drifted to their current book progress. Stephanie was nearing the completion of her fourth romance novel in the Savannah Sweet Romance Series.
“You’re a writing machine,” Mercedes joked. “I’ll be lucky if I finish my second novel by the end of January. Although, if I’m locked up in a prison cell, I’ll have plenty of time to write.”
“We won’t let it happen,” Cricket said.
Tillie rapped on the door, opened it a crack and peered inside. “Sorry Cricket. Got a customer out here who wants a refund.”
“You can do a refund,” Cricket said.
“He’s returning a whole series.”
“Fudge.” Cricket slid her chair back and stood. “Are we still on for our regular meeting this week?”
“If I’m not in jail,” Mercedes said.
“We’re going to make you start paying each of us ten bucks every time you say that,” Stephanie teased. She squeezed Mercedes’ arm. “Don’t worry. They got nothin’ on you. After all, you have no family background that would cause the police to suspect you.”
If they only knew!
The four of them stopped by the front desk to thank Cricket for the coffee and conversation before making their way out of the store. Tom climbed into his car while Stephanie headed toward the Riverfront District.
Austin wandered over as Mercedes slid her helmet on and snapped the clasp. “You want to head down to the Thirsty Crow one night to listen to your buddy, Cool Bones and his band play?”
“Sure,” Mercedes smiled. “That would be fun and he would get a kick out of it.”
“How about Friday night? I could swing by around seven to pick you up.”
“It’s a date…er, I mean a non-date,” Mercedes said.
“Would it be such a terrible thing if it was a date?”
Mercedes felt her cheeks warm. “N-no,” she stuttered. “It wouldn’t.”
She hurriedly told him good-bye and then hopped on her Segway before zipping off down the street. Mercedes was almost home when she realized she’d left her notepad and a portion of her new book draft on the conference table, so she did a quick U-turn and headed back to the store.
She stopped in front of the window, not bothering to lock her Segway since she planned to pop in, grab her stuff and head back out.
Mercedes stopped in her tracks when she looked inside the front storeroom window and spotted Tom, Austin, Stephanie and Cricket off to the side, huddled close together.
Chapter 8
Mercedes quickly backed up until she was out of sight and tilted her head as she watched the others in her author group. Stephanie was waving her hands frantically, while Cricket’s arms were crossed, a serious expression on her face. Austin’s expression was unreadable and Tom Muldoon was shaking his head.
She was almost 100% certain the group was discussing her. Why else would they be standing there? She’d watched Tom climb into his car as Stephanie walked away. A thread of suspicion crept into her mind. Had she been setup? Were the other authors conspiring against her?
They acted as if they wanted to help clear her name. She had never even heard of Jon Luis before someone in the group mentioned his name.
Mercedes turned her Segway around and tilted the handle forward as she sped home. When she reached the apartment building, she steered into the hall, yanked her helmet off and hung it on the handlebar before racing up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Carlita and Gina were inside, sitting in the living room.
“Ma, you got a minute? I need to run somethin’ by you.”
“Sure.” Carlita slid off the sofa. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time,” Gina said. “I’ll be out on the balcony.”
Carlita followed her daughter to her room. “How did it go with your group of authors? Were you able to kind of feel ‘em out, see what they thought of Luis’ murder?”
“The meeting was great. Everyone was sayin’ that they wanted to help me clear my name, but they were just flappin’ their gums. Something is up.” Mercedes went on to tell her mother the group exited the bookstore. She watched two of them leave while Austin hung back and asked her if she wanted to go out Friday night.
“Ah, another date?” Carlita lifted an eyebrow. “What about Detective Jackson?”
“It’s nothin’ serious. Neither one, at least not on my end.” Mercedes waved her hand. “Well, I got flustered; I forgot the draft notes for my new book. I remembered when I was almost home, so I turned around and went back to get them. You never know when someone might be tryin’ to steal ideas. I’m not sayin’ my author friends would, but you never can be too careful.”
“I agree. You have some great ideas, Mercedes.”
“Thanks. When I got there, I stopped out front. That’s when I noticed all of the other authors, Tom, Stephanie, Austin and Cricket, inside the store. They were huddled off to the side havin’ a serious conversation.”
“Maybe you left too soon,” Carlita said.
“No. Tom was already in his car and Stephanie was halfway down the block when I left. I think they were waitin’ for me to leave.”
“What does this mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s a good thing I always keep a current copy of my book draft on the computer.” Mercedes began to pace the floor. “What if they had a plan to set me up? They must think I’m dumber than a box of rocks. I gotta figure out if I was setup.” She snapped her
