Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57502 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57502 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
“Jane,” Conrad growled.
“Take your lumps, darling.” She sashayed to the door, paused and looked over her shoulder to blow him a kiss. “I’ll spill everything when I return.”
Jane walked side by side with Beau, ready for anything. She’d had a productive day. She’d done more writing and managed to pry chapters three and four from her innermost being. After a while, words had flowed once again, the book really coming alive.
A cool evening breeze ruffled the hem of her midi A-line vintage skirt in olive green that screamed writer. She paired it with a white buttoned top and knitted scarf for an extra Bohemian flair. Of course, Beau ruined her look with khakis and a lightweight turtleneck rather than the berserker chic costume she’d suggested.
“You looking for a job in a bank?” she teased.
He swung his truck keys from his index finger. “I can always turn around. Conrad even suggested it.”
She looped her arm through her best friend’s. “I’m just surprised by your attire, is all.”
“I know how to go undercover, too. I call this look professor lite,” he said, and she snorted.
“Always take my advice when it comes to undercover fashion. I’ll never steer you wrong.”
They approached Maggie’s front door. The mechanic lived in a craftsman not too far from Conrad’s, but it had undergone several remodels to make it more modern, including the addition of a large garage. Maggie must enjoy tinkering with cars at home, too.
Before knocking, Jane straightened Beau’s neckline. “When the time comes to create a distraction, start reading the first chapter of your novel.”
“That will be difficult, considering I didn’t have a free moment to do any writing.”
“Nope. No excuses.” She rapped her knuckles against the raised panel of the solid wood door. “You can make it up as you go along.”
“Come in,” several people called in unison.
Beau opened the entrance and motioned Jane forward. Head high, she marched inside. He joined her in the foyer, and she scanned the crowd. Abigail Waynes-Kirkland sat in a straight-backed chair, holding court as only a queen could. She conversed with Christopher and Maggie, who appeared casual and not at all like a killer and her unwitting victim.
The fireman had his arm wrapped around the mechanic’s waist, his fingers draped over her hip. A possessive hold Conrad often used with Jane. Proof her ex wasn’t hung up on her. Clearly, he adored Maggie.
A handful of people Jane didn’t know interacted here and there. Ashley Katz hadn’t arrived yet. Still planning to come? Maggie’s home was comfortable, a mishmash of different furniture styles, exactly how a woman in her twenties who’d inherited various pieces from relatives and slowly replaced them with ones she bought herself as she could afford them would look. A small table had been set up with a tea service in honor of Hannah.
Jane’s throat tightened as she thought of the slain woman, known for giving crafters and artisans a place to showcase their wares.
Another table provided snacks. From vegetables and dips, to stuffed mushrooms, to spinach and feta pinwheels. Not to the level of a Jane and Fiona spread, but certainly respectable. She would sample everything to be sure, of course.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Beau said, pulling her to his side when she attempted to motor over. “As long as I’m reading from my nonexistent novel, you’re not focusing on food rather than people.”
Good call. Because she spotted Donnie Eggerson filling a plate with finger foods. Once again, he stared at Jane and smiled as if he imagined mounting her head on his wall like a prized deer. This time, she stared back.
He flushed and lost his smile, then ducked his head and scuttled off. Okay. So. Some time this evening, she should confront him. Had he heard about her appearance tonight and come to continue this game? Was he a writer, doubling his chances of being the killer? But then she caught sight of the mayor and his younger doppelgänger. Must be Jacob Thacker, the son. The two tried and failed to hide the fact that they were watching Jane. She intended to question both.
“All right. Let’s do this.” She slapped a smile on her face and urged Beau straight to the hostess. If she ignored the Thackers, who oh, so clearly wished to speak with her, they’d come to her. Especially if she did something to set them off. Which she would totally do, if it proved necessary.
Game of cat and mouse? Bring it!
Oh! Was that artichoke dip at the edge of the snack table?
“Jane,” Beau muttered.
Right. “So good to see you again, Maggie. Christopher,” she greeted. She humphed at the remaining trio member. “Abigail.”
The three repositioned to fully focus on her. Abigail sneered. Maggie double blinked at the war vet before clearing her throat and nodding at Jane. Christopher may have recoiled the slightest bit, as if he feared having his girlfriend clash with his ex. Afraid Jane might talk about his behavior during their breakup and scare the new love away? And look at her, plotting like a pro.