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“I thought she switched to women’s fiction—you know, moody beach reads?”
“Oh, that’s right. Shoot. I can’t seem to keep up with my mother.” Let alone a killer. But still—it’s a great segue into that writing group of theirs. “So where’s Crane? I’m assuming my mother extended the invite.”
“She did in our group text. Crane mentioned she had a headache. But she said for sure she’d be at the Party in Paradise this Sunday.”
“Party in Paradise?”
Her lips twitch. “Your mother asked for a little help coming up with something catchy to call Cormack’s baby shower. I guess that whole baubles thing wasn’t cutting it. The mom-to-be wanted something more inducive to the tropics.”
“If Cormack equates having a baby to a trip to the tropics, then she has another thing coming.”
“It’s think—another think coming.” She cackles.
“It’s thing,” I insist, and we share a good laugh over it.
“But you’re right about that whole baby thing.” She winks. “I have four kids, all grown thankfully. But boy, was that ever a job. I’d equate it to a hostage situation before I ever called it paradise. You do realize a pack of kids is called a migraine for a reason.”
We share another bout of bubbling laughter.
“I have two kids myself.”
“Just two?” she teases. “You keep going if you want. I married my high school sweetheart, Sean, and we’ve loved every minute with our crazy brood.”
“Sounds like there’s a lot of love, and a lot of fun, in your house.”
“Oh, there is.” She gives a wistful tick of her head. “I think that’s why Bella and Crane were always such sourpusses. They didn’t have anyone to share their lives with.”
“Not true. She had me.” Teeny Weenie floats this way after clearing the platter of every last trace of anything remotely dairy. “Lottie, ask her why she killed my Bella,” he says, licking an orange dot of nacho cheese off his cute little nose. “I need to get back to paradise so Bella and I can enjoy our Sunday fun days once again. We’d watch hours of true crime shows, eat platters full of cheese chips, and drink margaritas.”
My mouth falls open.
“Okay, so she’d enjoy the margaritas.” He sighs as if he were still remorseful about that fact. “But she let me lick the leftovers in the glass once she was through and she always left an inch.”
I’m afraid to ask if that’s what did him in.
“Danya”—I lean in—“I heard a rumor that Crane had an arson charge of some kind. Do you know anything about that?”
Her lips invert for a moment as she gives a quick glance around.
“I sure do.” She closes the gap between us. “You know she writes the Elizabeth Pope Detective Series.”
I nod. I did a little research on those, too. I downloaded a few onto my phone, but they were a bit too dry and no-nonsense for my liking. I prefer a little humor and a hunky detective, and maybe a hunky judge, too.
I scan the area for my own hunky judge, but he’s still nowhere to be found.
“Anyway”—Danya goes on—“her MC—her main character, Elizabeth, tracks down an arsonist in book three. And since Crane is big on research—as in hands-on—let’s just say she went out to the woods and got a little carried away with things.”
“You mean she was acting out a scene in her book and things got out of hand?”
A grin breaks out on her face as she nods. “But get this, she told the sheriff’s department that she was burning a manuscript in the woods. She wasn’t about to cop to soaking an entire forest in kerosene just to see if she could create a fire line. I don’t know how she thought she was going to put it out. The state was ready to fine her and put her away for a good long while, but her attorney—Bella—sold the romantic notion of burning a bad manuscript at midnight.”
“Bella was her attorney?”
“Oh yeah. They were close in the beginning. But that’s when the rift happened. Bella knew the truth, and I think she held that over her head. Crane writes under C. Mitchel so her readers know nothing about her dark side. And if they did, I’m sure her sales would reflect how they felt about that. So you can see, Bella had evidence that Crane was a pyro in the making. She could have ruined Crane’s career, and instead, she saved it. The power went to Bella’s head. And since Crane is the one who usually likes to steer her own ship, they butted heads a lot.”
“So Bella was blackmailing Crane?”
“Now that sounds harsh.” Danya straightens her glasses and sighs. “She was just using it to lord over Crane now and again. Bella had a very successful series going—the Gritty Gavel legal thrillers. I don’t know what she’d possibly blackmail Crane into doing.”
