Али Брэндон - Double Booked For Death

Shifting the treasured tome so that she hugged it with one arm, she dug with her free hand into her uniform pocket. “My mom gave me money to pay for it,” she explained and held out two crumpled twenties.

Darla smiled and shook her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Morris taking advantage of her distraction to start toward the door. “Tell your mom that the book is my gift to you for being such a good customer.”

A desperate idea occurred to her. Gesturing toward Morris, she went on loudly, “And I have another surprise for you, Callie. This gentleman is Mr. Morris Vickson. He’s Valerie Baylor’s twin brother, and he stopped by for a visit.”

The announcement stopped Morris in his tracks, and he glanced at the young girl with polite uncertainty. Darla pressed her advantage, telling him, “This is Callie. She’s one of your sister’s biggest fans.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, young lady,” Morris said with a hesitant smile, putting out a hand adorned with the familiar puzzle ring.

Despite her youth, Callie knew the routine, for she smiled and took his hand in return. Her tone polite, she said, “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m very sorry about your sister. She was a wonderful writer. When I grow up, I want to write books just like her.”

“Well, all good writers start out as good readers,” he assured her. Then he frowned, his expression considering. “Tell me, Callie, what did you think when Lani learned the secret of the Janitor’s closet in the second book?”

“You mean how the closet was actually a mysterious portal to h-e-l-l?”

When Morris nodded, the girl gave an exaggerated shiver. “That was pretty darn scary. I had to keep the light on all night after I read that. But that’s okay. I think it would have been dumb if Lani didn’t check out the closet once she found out about those kids disappearing.”

“And what did you think of the Janitor?” Morris wanted to know.

Darla had thought that the Janitor—by day a mild old man with a lisp and a kind smile, and by night a malevolent demon with sharp teeth and pupil-less eyes—was one of the creepiest characters she’d ever read. She, too, was curious to hear Callie’s take on the character.

The girl shrugged. “I thought he was pretty mean, at first, but later on I decided he was more sad than scary. I kind of felt sorry for him, even though he tried to kill Lani’s best friend. And I was kind of mad when the ghost gang destroyed him with a séance at the end of School Spirit .”

“Then I think you’ll find the third book quite interesting,” Morris assured her. “Not that I will reveal any secrets, of course. You’ll have to read all that for yourself.”

“Ooh, I bet that means the Janitor comes back!” Callie exclaimed, jumping up and down with excitement.

Then she halted in midhop, and her smile faded. It was replaced by a look of confusion, and an instant later, by realization.

“Wait,” she declared, taking a step back and staring hard at him. “I know who you are.” Her eyes behind her round glasses narrowed. “You’re one of the ladies who came to the autographing with Ms. Baylor.”

TWENTY-ONE

FROM THE MOUTH AND SHARP EYES OF BABES , DARLA thought in astonishment as Callie made this pronouncement. As for Morris, he stood staring at the girl as if he’d been poleaxed.

Composing herself, Darla guilelessly told her, “Why, Callie, surely you can see that Mr. Vickson is a gentleman, and not a lady. I’m afraid you’re mistaken, honey.”

“I’m not.”

Callie’s rosebud lips formed a small stubborn line as she studied Morris even more closely. “You had on a dress and your hair was long, but it was you. You were the makeup lady. I saw you get out of the limo, and then I saw you putting lipstick on Ms. Baylor while I was waiting in line here in the store.”

Setting her book on the counter, she reached into her backpack. She fished out her phone and pressed a few buttons.

“See, I even took your picture. It looks just like you,” she proclaimed and held up the phone so that both he and Darla could see the image there.

Darla glimpsed a thin blonde frozen in midgesture as she wielded a bright red lipstick. She didn’t require a closer look to know the figure was Mavis. Morris’s suddenly stricken face was all she needed to see.

His lips moved, but he couldn’t seem to summon a protest beyond a bit of sputtering. Jake, meanwhile, had set down the book she had been pretending to read and was watching him with cool calculation. Darla knew she should say something, but what? Admit she’d already guessed Morris’s secret, or once more feign disbelief? But while she struggled for the right words, Callie again stepped in.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you tried to fool me on purpose. And it’s okay if you like pretending to be a lady sometimes,” the girl reassured him. “My mom says that so long as people don’t hurt anyone, what they do in private is none of our business. So I promise I won’t tell anyone that you’re really the makeup lady.”

She returned her phone to her pack and grabbed up her book again.

“I have to go now, but thanks a lot for the book,” she told Darla. “I’m going to start reading it the minute I get home, and I won’t stop until I’m done, even if it’s after my bedtime. Boy, I sure hope the Janitor is back!”

Callie paused at the door for a final wave at all of them and then skipped out hugging the hardcover to her chest. As the bells jingled her exit, Darla and Jake turned as one toward Morris.

The composure had begun to return to his face, and his tone was cool again as he said, “Cute kid, but she was obviously having a little joke at my expense. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

Jake, however, was not to be dissuaded. “Anything you’d like to tell us, Morris . . . or should I say, Mavis?” she asked, subtly positioning herself so that she stood between him and the door.

He blinked. “ And who are you? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“That’s Jake Martelli,” Darla broke in. “She’s a friend of mine, and she happens to be in charge of security here. You probably saw her at the autographing. She’s an ex-cop.”

“Ah . . . ‘ex’ being the germane word here,” Morris replied, seemingly in control once more. “That being the case, you no doubt realize that you have no right to question me, Ms. Martelli. And you certainly have no authority to detain me, so please step aside.”

“There’s something you might not know regarding your sister’s death,” Jake countered, holding her ground. “We found an odd note here in the store that apparently was written during the event. We think that message might have been used to lure Valerie Baylor outside the store that night. Funny, though, that the note was written in lipstick the same color as what Mavis was using on Valerie. Even more interesting, the handwriting on it appears identical to the sample we have of your writing from the business card you gave to Darla.”

Morris gave a hollow little laugh. “Oh, come on. You can’t expect to compare lipstick with ink and claim a match.”

“Maybe not,” Darla interjected, “but what about your puzzle ring? Mavis had on the identical ring the night of the autographing, even down to wearing it on the same finger as you wear yours.”

“Coincidence.” His tone took on a hard edge, while his normally emotionless face hinted at anger. “Not that I owe either of you an explanation,” he clipped out, “but the puzzle ring was a gift from my sister. Perhaps she gave both of us the same ring.”

He paused and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a slim cell phone. “Now, do I need to call my attorney and tell him that I’m being harassed, or will you let me leave?”