He rolled his eyes.“Chief Lip told me not to let anyone in so I’m not letting anyone in.” Clearly feeling this was the last thing he was prepared to say on the matter, he clasped his hands behind his back and directed his gaze in the middle distance, studiously ignoring this pesky troublemaker.
Incensed, she poked him in the stomach, burying her index finger to the knuckle.
“Hey! That’s police property,” he sputtered, touching the offended spot.
“Oh, fine,” she said, throwing up her hands and walking off. She turned back to the cop, walking backward now. “This isn’t over, Jackson. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, making a throwaway gesture.
She hurried around the side of the library, where a paved footpath was lined by mulch-covered patches of rosebushes, made her way to the back, then hung a sharp left before arriving at the service entrance which doubled as the library’s emergency exit. To her surprise, her uncle hadn’t stationed anyone at this door, and she blew right through and into the short corridor that led to a small cafeteria and a dressing room slash storeroom where authors and guests could get changed before stepping onto the stage for their readings.
Odelia took a quick peek inside the dressing room and held up her hand in greeting for Sarah Flunk, another one of her uncle’s officers.
“There’s no one guarding the backdoor,” she said.
“On it,” said Sarah with a nod.
“Have you seen my mom?”
Sarah gestured with her head.“Library. Your uncle is talking to her now.”
Moving past a stack of unpacked boxes—newly acquired books yet to be cataloged, Odelia pushed through the door and into the library. She’d arrived at the left of the stage, and the first thing she saw was Abe Cornwall, the county coroner, leaning over what was unmistakably the late Chris Ackerman—the self-proclaimed world’s bestselling writer.
She blinked, not expecting to come upon the dead man quite so suddenly.
Chris Ackerman was still seated in his chair, leaning precariously to his right, a large crimson spot on his white shirt, a pen of some kind sticking out of his neck.
Abe looked up when he sensed her presence.“Oh, hey, Odelia. I liked that piece you did on Philomena, the blind groundhog. Has the rescue shelter found her a new home yet?”
“Um…”
“Oh, well. If they haven’t, my wife wants to take the plunge. Francine is simply crazy about pets, and figures why not a groundhog this time? Why always cats and dogs, right?”
“Right,” said Odelia, staring at the dead man as if transfixed. Even though she’d reported on crime plenty of times in her career as a reporter, and solved more murders than most journos, the sight of a dead person never failed to unnerve her to a great extent.
Abe, a scruffy-looking man with a pronounced paunch and gray hair that seemed to explode from his scalp in classic Einstein-style, returned his attention to the dead writer.“Such a pity, huh? Francine loves his books. Especially his Max Frost series. Read every single one of them. I’m more of a science fiction and fantasy reader myself. Give me a good Asimov or Ursula Le Guin any day over Chris Ackerman.” He shrugged and produced a cheerful smile. “I guess my wife will have to find herself a new favorite writer.”
“How did he die?” asked Odelia.
“Fountain pen to the jugular. Or, more accurately, the carotid artery. Very apt, I suppose. For a writer, I mean. Mind you, there are better ways to go.”
“I’ll bet there are,” she murmured.
Abe tsk-tsked as he scrutinized the fountain pen.
“What is it?” asked Odelia.
“Looks like he was killed with his own pen, too. That’s not very nice.”
Odelia agreed that killing a writer with his own pen was not a nice thing to do, and left the coroner to continue his examination.
Stepping off the stage, she spotted her mother seated in the kids’ section of the library, along with Uncle Alec, while Chase was talking to Odelia’s dad while taking copious notes. Odelia’s grandmother, meanwhile, was seated in the PC nook, surfing the web.
Odelia made a beeline for the pirate ship where her mother and uncle were seated, and the moment Mom spotted her, she got up, stepped out of the ship, and they hugged.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” said Mom. “This is a nightmare.”
Chapter 5
So we were sleuthing again. And if I say sleuthing I mean looking for clues the Hallmark Movies& Mysteries Channel way. I have to confess I’d never liked the Hallmark Channel before. Over at Marge and Gran’s house they watch that stuff all the time, and it hasn’t done Dooley any favors. It’s turned him into a sappy cat. Sappy as in overly mawkish, especially when it comes to Harriet, on whom he’s had a crush since just aboutforever.
