“Tuesday. You’ll mostly be returning assignments on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Those are Lilly’s research days. Thank you for coming.” Jolene paused and stared at Meg. Clearly, she’d forgotten her name.
“Meg. Meg Gates.”
“Jolene, someone’s at the back door. Can you make sure it’s locked? Please?” Lilly Aster stood at the top of the grand staircase, looking down. She wore what looked like silk pajamas, and her hair was mussed.
“Of course, Ms. Aster.” She opened the door and gently pushed Meg outside.
Meg stuffed the folder into her backpack before turning around and facing the crowd. As she headed toward the spot where the guard had let her cross under the caution tape, reporters pelted her with questions.
“What were you doing at the Aster house?”
“Do you know Ms. Aster?”
“Did you know the man she killed?”
At this question, she glanced up. She felt the shock on her face. But then the guard who had let her in took her arm and led her through the crowd. “Don’t react to them. It will feed the frenzy. Where’s your car?”
“Bike,” she responded, keeping her head down. She pointed to where she’d left it. “It’s over on the side of the driveway.”
He walked her over and stood close as she got on the bike. The news crews had already forgotten her as someone was looking out a window in the house. She pedaled out of the driveway and headed down the hill toward Winslow. No one seemed to notice her leaving. That happened in Seattle, too. If you were on your bike, you were invisible. So much so that an inattentive driver had hit several of her friends who biked to get around. Today there were no cars on the road, which wasn’t unusual for this area of Bainbridge Island. But instead of it being a slow day, Meg thought all the cars were probably parked at Summer Break.
* * *
At the bookstore, the gossip was all about the man who had been found on the beach. “I bet it was Aster’s ex-husband,” Meg’s mom guessed. “He’s been showing up on the island the past few months. Sally said she saw them eating dinner together at the pub the last time he was here, and Lilly wasn’t happy to see him. Rumor is he came back for more money.”
“Now, Felicia, you know you can’t get your news from Sally. That woman makes up half of what she talks about. Troy says that the department is hosting a press conference to release the information tomorrow morning, after the next of kin has been informed. He’s pulling out his dress uniform tonight for the cameras. I hope it still fits.” Aunt Melody sipped her tea. “So, Meg, how are you liking working for Lilly? Did you hear anything when you were up at the house this morning?”
“How did you know I was at the house?” Meg took Watson’s leash off, and he went straight to the dog bed under the counter.
“You were on television, dear. Walking up the stairs. The announcer called you an unknown visitor. At first, all I saw was your back. And your curly hair. On your way out of the house I could see your face. You looked stressed. You look much better now.”
“I wasn’t stressed, except for all the people yelling at me. Like I’d know anything.” Meg poured herself a cup of coffee as she settled in for her shift. Usually, her mom left as soon as Meg walked in, but tonight the sisters were going out to dinner. It was a weekly event, designed to help them keep in touch, even though they lived less than three blocks from each other. Meg thought it was cute. She sat down at the table where they had gathered. “I don’t know anything more than you two do. I don’t think Lilly Aster had anything to do with the man’s death, though. There’s no way.”
Aunt Melody sniffed. “I agree with you, but I’m worried. Troy won’t tell me anything, but I heard they are bringing her in for questioning tomorrow afternoon. They don’t do that unless they think you’re a suspect. Sorry about your job and getting you involved in all of this. Oh, and your uncle said to stay away from his crime scene.”
“There’s no way Lilly Aster killed anyone . . . outside her books, that is.” Meg thought about the woman she’d met this week. She was smart, self-assured, and was definitely not a murderer. Besides, Meg had started her own book last night. A “how to be a detective without the badge” guide. Working for Lilly Aster, or L. C. Aster, the queen of mysteries, would add substance to her proposal. If she worked for her for only a week, that would ruin any street cred she might obtain. It wasn’t like she wanted to have the same agent as Lilly Aster; that man was horrible. But maybe Lilly knew some other, nicer agent who would take her and the book on. This was one project she wasn’t going to fail at.
Unless she did. Or Lilly Aster went to prison.
She watched as her mom and aunt gathered their things to walk the two blocks to the restaurant where they had a standing six-thirty reservation.
Her mom kissed her as she pulled on her jacket. “There’s a list of things on the counter that need to be done. Don’t worry about the job with Ms. Aster, dear. If she goes to jail, we’ll find you another job.”
“That makes me feel so much better.” Meg hugged them both, then went to the counter once they were out the door. Watson snored in the corner. She read over the list, then pulled out her laptop and scanned the local news for any stories about the body. There was a video of her walking out of Summer Break, her backpack clutched tightly to her chest.
“There’s my fifteen minutes of fame, Watson. And my life is over. Again.”
Watson snored louder. Apparently, he didn’t care.
The bell rang over the door, and Natasha came in with a box from her bakery. “I figured you needed some sugar after your day. Did she kill the guy?”
“No, she didn’t—” Meg’s denial was interrupted when Dalton followed Natasha inside the bookstore. “Dalton, I didn’t expect you.”
“I’m checking in. I heard Aster’s going to jail. What’s going to happen with your job?” Dalton greeted Natasha and opened the box. “Apple turnovers?”
“Of course.” Natasha sat the box on the table that Meg’s mom and aunt had just deserted and went to the back. “Is it too late for coffee?”
“Mom made a fresh batch before she left. And Lilly’s not going to jail.” Meg felt like she was trying to corral cats. She grabbed the notebook she always carried and took it and her cup back to the table. The list could wait. “So what has everyone heard?”
