Page 59 of Killer on the First Page
“Gee, thanks!” said Geri. “You should be our ‘celebrity in residence.’ Wouldn’t that be something? Gerry and I are big fans of your show about that crime-fighting lady priest. Would be a thrill to have you here. You could have your own suite! We wouldn’t even charge you for it.”
Get thee behind me, Geri...
The Better B&B was aptly named. It was so much nicer than Bea’s on every front, except one: it wasn’t Bea’s. A suite of her own at Hiram Henry House? The temptation dissolved as soon as it arose. Miranda Abbott was nothing if not loyal, and she would never betray her dear friend.
She gave Geri a tight smile instead. “Thank you for the invitationto live here amid these elegant surroundings. But I already have a suite—named in my honor, no less.” (The attic at Bea’s B&B had indeed been dubbed the Miranda Abbott Suite, even if it didn’t feature parquet floors, cut-glass chandeliers, and Tiffany table lamps. Or a proper fire escape.)
“I’m gonna run out of police tape at this rate,” Officer Holly muttered to herself when Ned sent her up to seal off Fairfax DePoy’s room on the BB&B’s second floor.
“Make sure everyone locks their windows,” he called as Holly trudged up the stairs, roll of yellow tape in hand. “Don’t want Fairfax attempting to re-enter via the fire escape.”
“Whatever you say, Sergeant Bosch,” she grumbled.
“Bosch is not a sergeant! He’s a detective, third class.” Ned knew his fictional police officers. He turned to his deputy. “I’ll have Officer Holly stay here tonight in case our suspect tries to return. Her mom has the twins tonight, so that should be okay. Meanwhile, I’ll prowl the streets of Happy Rock in my patrol car, see if I can’t catch Fairfax darting about, though I imagine he’s already left town.”
“Fleeing? Or afraid?” Miranda asked.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re assuming he’s running from the law and not away from the murderer.”
“By odds, heisthe murderer. A feud reaching its bloody climax. You said so yourself, Miranda. If nothing else, Fairfax is certainly a person of interest, and the sooner we track him down, the better. Now. Deputy Andrew, do have your report? The statements you took?”
“I, uh, left those at the bookstore with Edgar.”
“You didn’t think to bring them with you?”
Andrew gave Miranda a sour look. “I didn’t know we were coming here. She tricked me.”
“That’s on you, darling,” she said. “It takes two to be tricked: the trick-erand the trick-ee.”
As Geri puttered about, adjusting throw pillows and straightening frames that didn’t need straightening, Officer Holly came back downstairs and Ned headed out.
Andrew yawned as a hint, but Miranda didn’t notice—or chose not to.
“A pen and paper, please,” she said, taking up a spot at the petite Queen Anne Revival escritoire near the front door. “A ballpoint will do, though at a decorative desk such as this, one feels quill and ink should be employed.”
“We have quill and ink,” said Geri, beaming, “if you’d like me to get it. We use it for invitations and handwritten calling cards.”
“Martha Stewart comes to Happy Rock!” said Miranda, but Andrew had already handed her a basic pen.
Officer Holly had taken up position on one of the B&B’s many sofas, was thumb-texting her mom. Lachlan Todd stood up and stretched. He’d made himself at home here, having hung his oversized jacket and ear-flap hat on the coat rack with an almost proprietorial air.
“I’m beat. Time for me to hit the sack,” he said. “Guess I’ll take Kane’s room, seeing as how he won’t be needing it. Key, Geri?”
“Um...”
Holly’s eyes had locked onto him. “Nice try, bozo. Kane’s room has also been sealed off. No one goes in.”
“But it’s not a crime scene,” he huffed. “And it’s a waste to let it sit empty.”
“Why are you even here?” Officer Holly wanted to know. “You’re staying at the Hideaway, right? Go back there, straighten things out with the owner. She called earlier, said your check bounced. I was meaning to talk to you about that, but, well, the murder got in the way.”
“A misunderstanding.”
“Sure thing, Lustig.”
An obscure reference, but one Miranda caught: a reference to Victor Lustig, famed conman.
