Али Брэндон - Double Booked For Death

Lizzie was nodding. “I know. I guess seeing that poor girl standing out there with her sign brought up some bad feelings.”

“That poor girl, as you call her, is likely just a delusional fan who made up this whole thing in her head. I’d bet money she’s never even been in contact with Valerie Baylor before. If she’s not careful, she’s going to get slapped with a restraining order.”

“You’re probably right,” Lizzie agreed. Then, with a small self-conscious smile, she added, “Well, I suppose I should’fess up. Did I ever tell you that I know Valerie Baylor? We were in English composition class together back in college.”

“Wow,” Darla replied, suitably impressed. “The best I’ve got is that I went to high school with the guy who invented the Eggspert Egg Slicer . . . you know, the commercial you see on late-night television?”

“Of course, she was still Valerie Vickson— V-i-c-k-s-o-n —back then,” Lizzie went on, apparently underwhelmed by Darla’s egg-slicer inventor. “This was before she got married to some snooty rich guy whose last name was Baylor. Of course, the marriage didn’t last, but I heard she got a big juicy settlement in the divorce. Not that she needed it, because her family already was richer than God.”

Her tone took on a sour note again. “I don’t know what she was doing at a state university, slumming with the rest of us,” she added. “Maybe she thought it would look better in her author’s bio, or maybe she was just researching the little people for her books. Oh, and that whole ‘Vixen’ thing as her pseudonym was a play on her maiden name. She always told us she thought ‘Val Vixen’ would look great on a romance novel cover.”

Darla had been listening with interest to Lizzie doing her version of the Biography Channel. Recalling the woman’s earlier outburst, she said sympathetically, “I’m guessing you and Valerie weren’t best friends, were you? You think she’ll remember you?”

“She’d better,” Lizzie proclaimed, her smile now bright.

They continued chatting as they finished restocking the display, with Darla keeping an eye on the clock. “James,” she called a few minutes later, “can you remind the folks back in the mystery section that we’re closing early to get ready for the autographing? Oh, and is Mary Ann here yet?”

Mary Ann Plinski, the same old friend of Great-Aunt Dee’s who’d helped out after her death, had volunteered to run the register during the event. She lived next door in an apartment over her brother’s antique store, so she could pop in at a moment’s notice, and since she’d helped out Dee before, she needed no training on the equipment. She would be the first stop once the eager fans finally made their way inside the store. Each would pay her for up to two books and then present the receipt to Lizzie or James at the signing table, where Valerie would sign their copies.

Mary Ann showed up just as they escorted out the last customer.

“My goodness, those kids are having a wonderful time out there,” she exclaimed with a smile after greeting everyone. Though she wore her pewter-hued hair in its usual French twist, she’d gotten into the spirit of things and had donned a vintage 1940s-era black gown that Darla suspected was borrowed from her brother’s inventory.

Darla locked the door after the older woman. “Are you sure we won’t be keeping you up too late tonight?” she asked her. “We’ll probably be here until eleven, maybe later.”

“Oh gracious, don’t worry about that,” Mary Ann declared, waving away Darla’s concerns with one wrinkled hand. “You get to be my age, and you don’t sleep too much, anyway. I’m always up at all hours, so tonight won’t be any different.”

The clamor on the sidewalk outside had risen as the time drew closer to the magical Valerie hour. Darla felt her temples begin to thrum, though she wasn’t sure if it was from lack of food or from nerves. This was, after all, her first major event since taking ownership of the place. But just in case it was the former, she had that covered.

“Thai food is on the way,” she said, earning sounds of gratified approval from her staff. “In the meantime, let’s get those bookshelves moved so we can set up the autographing area.”

In a bit of clever carpentry, the shelves in the center of the store were all on casters. A flick of a lever unlocked each wheel, so an entire unit could be rolled away without unloading the books, allowing the store’s floor plan to be reconfigured with only a bit of effort. Soon enough, they had cleared a broad path down the center of the store. That accomplished, they created a mazelike pathway with the stanchions.

“Pack ’em in here like sardines,” Mary Ann said approvingly.

“Ooh, it’s like the waiting line for a ride at Disney World,” Lizzie declared in satisfaction.

“Or the line going through airport security,” James countered, drawing a disapproving moue from the woman, while Darla merely shook her head.

At the rear of the main room, they swiftly set up a table that they covered in black and red cloths, behind which Valerie would sit as she signed books. Lizzie arranged an artful pile of books on either end of the table—they’d be replenishing books all night long from displays and a few dozen more boxes still unopened along the back wall—while Darla moved the easel with its poster into place. For a finishing touch, Mary Ann draped black cloth over the shelving behind the table and covered the folding chair with a properly spooky black slipcover.

“The Thai has arrived,” James proclaimed as the women stepped back to admire their handiwork.

Over the next hour, the four of them took turns standing watch over the crowd while Jake and Reese made a run-through of the store and managed a final break to eat before the evening’s excitement began. Lizzie, meanwhile, went outside to hand out the first of the giveaways, an official Haunted High trivia sheet. Later would come the silicone bracelets with the various book titles on them, and then the Haunted High pins. When it was her turn to play security guard, Darla pulled on her black cloak and went to check on Callie first thing.

It was almost dark now, but the nearby streetlamps and security lights from the surrounding buildings provided adequate illumination to see what was going on. She found Callie sitting propped against the wall, her pink backpack in her lap as a makeshift table to hold the paperback she was reading. She looked up at Darla’s greeting and gave a lopsided smile that showed most of her red lipstick had worn off.

“I’m almost finished reading my second book,” she proclaimed over the noise of the teens surrounding her. “It’s a good thing I brought three with me. Is Valerie going to be here soon?”

“Any minute now. Did you get something to eat?”

Callie nodded. “Mom packed me enough for lunch and dinner, plus I’ve got a chocolate bar for dessert. Susanna”—she motioned to the petulant-looking brunette teen standing next to her huddled with two other girls, all three dressed in the requisite black capes—“she had one, too, but she said it would make her fat, so she gave hers to Mr. Reese.”

While Darla considered this, Callie scrunched up her small face in concern. “Is Mr. Reese your boyfriend?”

“No, he’s just a friend of my friend.”

“Whew,” the girl exclaimed, making an exaggerated swipe of her hand across her brow. “That’s good, because I heard Susanna tell Mimi and Janna that she’d like to jump his bones. That didn’t sound very polite, especially not if he already has a girlfriend.”

Darla glanced over at the teen in question and smiled sweetly, though she discovered to her surprise that she had to suppress a sudden impulse to give Susanna a good shake. “Don’t worry, Callie,” she replied through gritted teeth, “Mr. Reese is way too old for your sister. Now, sit tight, and when the line starts moving, I want you to hold on to your sister’s hand so you don’t get shoved or stepped on. Got it?”