Double Booked For Death

To her surprise, the feline followed her upstairs without protest. A few minutes later, having settled Hamlet comfortably in the apartment, Darla rejoined Jake. From the foyer, they made a quick visual reconnoiter of the sidewalk beyond and then, seeing no media sorts, started toward the deli. Unfortunately, they had to pass the Valerie shrine in the process.

“Holy crap, wouldja look at that,” Jake said in an undertone as they approached the still-growing mound of tribute candles and flowers. “The whole street smells like a florist shop. I bet the local flower sellers are making money hand over fist today. What do you want to bet that the kid who played the Boy Wizard in all those movies wouldn’t get half this attention if he dropped dead tomorrow?”

Darla could only shake her head by way of response as she stared in equal amazement.

The spread had doubled in size since she’d seen it from her window a couple of hours earlier. And Jake was right: the perfume of roses and carnations and burning candles did overwhelm the usual street smells of exhaust and restaurant food. The tribute made one thing perfectly clear: unpleasant as she might have been one-on-one, Valerie Baylor had obviously touched untold numbers of readers with her books. And perhaps that fact outweighed the other, she thought, feeling suddenly humble.

Jake, however, appeared untroubled by sentiment but had seemingly succumbed to her more ghoulish nature. Heedless of the dozen or so silent, sobbing teens who stood respectfully by, she knelt alongside the mound and began methodically pawing through the notes and cards that had been left there.

“Hey, dude, not cool!” one of them protested, drawing murmurs of resentful assent from the other fans gathered there.

Jake shot the girls a stern look as they began moving toward her and Darla. “Police business, ladies. I’ll need you to keep your distance until I’m finished.” Darla eyed the girls with some trepidation. Last thing they needed was a band of grieving high school kids going after them.

To her relief, however, the authority in her friend’s voice held the teens at bay as Jake continued her search, though what she was looking for, Darla couldn’t guess. Finally, the older woman stood and dusted her knees, then reached into her back pocket for a slightly crushed cigarette.

“All right, let’s get that lunch.”

Leaving behind the scowling girls, the two of them skirted the remainder of the blossom mountain and continued down the street. Darla waited until they were out of hearing range of Valerie’s fans before asking, “Okay, I’ll bite. What were you looking for back there?”

“Clues, Ms. Drew.”

Then, at Darla’s sour look, Jake went on, “I’m not saying I think there’s anything more to Valerie’s death than what we know, but I’ll admit that note did set off my hinky meter just a bit. I figured since we were standing right there, I’d check to see if there were any other lipstick notes or any writing that looked like what we saw back in the store.”

“And did you see any?”

“Not a one.”

They traveled the final block to their destination in mutual thoughtful silence, Darla planning a look at the flower tribute herself. Her hinky meter had been running at the high end of the scale since the moment Hamlet had dropped that book at her feet, no matter that she’d tried to pretend otherwise.

Outside the deli door, they paused while Jake pulled out her phone. “Since you’re buying, go ahead and order me the usual. I’m going to call Reese about any updates, and then I’ll meet you.”

Darla nodded and headed inside to order two mile-high turkey Reubens with extra sauerkraut, potato salad, and diet colas. By the time she paid for the full tray, Jake had already claimed a table and was waving her over.

“So what did Reese know?” Darla asked once they’d both made significant progress with their sandwiches.

Jake took another large bite, chewed, and swallowed before replying.

“Well, it looks like there won’t be any criminal charges filed against your buddy Marnie. There’s no evidence that she was negligent or impaired, and she didn’t flee the scene, so she’s pretty much in the clear . . . unless the family goes after her with a civil suit. As far as anything else, Reese was being a typical damn cop and playing it cagey. But it sounded like he might have found something interesting posted on the Internet. He wants to drop by later this afternoon, if that’s all right by you.”

“Works for me,” Darla mumbled through a mouthful of turkey. “Which reminds me, I never did find out what his first na—”

Jake’s phone abruptly let loose with a few riffs from the ominous “Imperial March” from the original Star Wars movie, cutting short Darla’s question.

“Sorry, kid, I gotta take this one,” Jake exclaimed, her expression wry. Flipping open the phone, she said, “Hi, Ma, how’s it going down there in Florida? Yeah, yeah, I know I call you every Sunday by noon, but I got tied up yesterday morning and forgot.”