Page 1 of Killer on the First Page
Chapter One
The Uninvited Mr. Todd
Miranda Abbott, star*of stage and screen, stepped back to admire the poster that the janitor had pinned up in the community events board outside the Opera House:
Middlemist Marketing & SR Promotions Present
THE FIRST ANNUAL HAPPY ROCK MYSTERY FESTIVAL!
featuring:
KANEHAMADY:two-fisted master of the hard-boiled detective story
FAIRFAXHUGHESDEPOYIII:romantic historical mystery maestro
INEZFONIO:Maven of Malice
PENELOPE“PENNY” FENLAND:Queen of the Cozies
RAYVALENTINE:Prince of the Police Procedural
WANDASTOBOL:beloved children’s author, creator of Compendium Cathy
LAWRENCEBLOCK:an up-and-comer with a lot of promise
hosted by “I Only Read Murder” bookstore
accommodations provided by BB&B (thanks G&G!)
From behind her came a strangely familiar voice. “Well, well, if it isn’t the movie star herself.” Enter: Lachlan Todd.
She didn’t recognize him when she first turned—pirouetted, really—with an insouciant fling of her scarf and breathy “Yes! It is I” on hearing those three magic words:the movie star!Though really, Miranda Abbott was a star of TV,*not movies, her foray into film having never captured the public imagination the way her TV detective character had. For better or worse, Miranda was still fixed, firmly, in the public eye as—
“Pastor Fran. It’s been a while.”
The miserable Lachlan Todd was wearing a ridiculous fur-lined cap with flaps pulled down over his ears, looking sallow-faced in a bulky coat three times too large. It was the sort of cold weather get-up LA types inevitably don when venturing north of San Fernando, not understanding that seasons, like life, come in gradations.
Miranda Abbott, in contrast, clad in layers of her trademark green—the better to set off her famous red hair, which came from a bottle these days, admittedly—had fully embraced autumn. A loose cashmere sweater and skinny jeans (not quite age-appropriate, but it worked) with a fling-able scarf designed for moments such as these, topped off with a classic wool overcoat. If only it had been a real fan stopping her in the street, not this contemptible blast from her distant past. Miranda knew she disliked Lachlan, though she couldn’t exactly remember why.
Early November and the leaves were falling, revealing towering evergreens behind, the Douglas firs and dark cedar that formed a backdrop to the community. Pearly skies and damp mist. Autumns in the Pacific Northwest were always so moist.
“It’s a long way from the Hollywood Hills,” said Lachlan with a disdainful backhanded wave to the harbor.
It is, she thought. It is, indeed.
“And your beau?” he asked. “Ol’ Edgar? He still hiding out here? Like a fugitive?”
Miranda straightened her shoulders. “Edgar loves this town. He loves Oregon. Loves Happy Rock. He even loves the weather.” What else he might love was up for debate.
The town of Happy Rock, Oregon, lay cradled in a saltwater bay. Its inner harbor boasted both the historic Duchess Hotel and the elegant alabaster presence of the Opera House, landmarks from the town’s days as a Victorian-era tourist destination. The morning sun had just broken over the hills, and a seaplane lifted off on a slowly spreading wake. Beyond the inner harbor, stretching out its rocky arm, was Laurel Point, with its candy-striped lighthouse.
A shrug from Lachlan. “Pretty enough, I suppose.” Everything he said sounded sarcastic. He had a sarcastic soul. “If you like that sort of thing.”
Miranda remembered Lachlan in the writers’ room at NBC pitching the most outlandish plots for her showPastor Fran Investigates, plots that often employed trip wires, artfully placed mirrors, hidden magnets, and poisoned lariats. Whenever Miranda’s husband, Edgar, head writer at the time, balked at this, Lachlan Todd would snidely reply,Of course, I’m presuming a degree of intelligence in our viewers.
What would bring this sallow, sour figure to Happy Rock?
The answer lay in the very poster that the janitor had put up outside of the Opera House in the community notice board, behind a plexiglass sheet, the better to protect it from the sodden rains and sudden winds of Tillamook Bay.
