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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.
Maybe she was born to be a legitimate author, not just an undercover one?
“Good to see you too.” With his free hand, Christopher pulled at his collar. He glanced between his ex and his current girlfriend. Oh, yeah. He definitely feared what might be mentioned about him.
“I’m glad you could make it, Jane,” the mechanic replied, her tone neutral. She’d unpinned her fringe of bangs, and oh, they looked fierce. Plus, she now matched the description of the killer’s heroine as much as Jane. The rest of her long dark hair was anchored in a low ponytail that positively oozed relaxed creativity. The cat-eye glasses were to die for. Were they prescription or added for a writerly flare?
Maggie’s gaze slid to Beau a second time, then all but bounced off him to return to Jane. “Sheriff Ryan wasn’t able to attend?”
“He’s busy working on Hannah's case.” Also, he’d abided by the punishment because one, he believed in justice, even against himself, and two, he’d found no probable cause, despite his best efforts. Of course, he’d insisted Trick, Isaac and Holden stake out the place. They, too, were undercover as authors. “This is Beau Harden, my most beloved childhood friend. He’s a struggling, unpublished author I’ve taken under my wing.” She squeezed his arm. A signal to turn up the heat and win everyone over.
Beau, drat him, merely nodded a greeting, saying nothing.
“Aren’t you unpublished?” Abigail asked.
“Only temporarily. You’re flying solo, I see.” Jane held her gaze. “No fiancé?”
Her majesty flipped her hair over one shoulder. “Mase wasn’t feeling well.”
Because he’d feared the worst–that his new girlfriend had killed his ex-wife? Perhaps guilt wouldn’t allow him to celebrate the life of the woman he’d murdered. Or had he just needed a break from Abigail? All were good, plausible options, though the third was more of a certainty.
“Hopefully he recovers swiftly. So. How do you know Donnie Eggerson?” she asked Maggie. Why not dive into the deep end?
“I invited him,” Christopher piped up. “After you requested information about his life, I realized he must be pretty lonely as the new guy in town and thought he could use a friend.”
Well. That was very sweet. And logical, dang it. Jane switched her case-sights to the Thackers. To provoke the duo into approaching sooner rather than later, she darted her gaze in their direction before leaning in to whisper a “secret” to her hostess. “I’m so happy to see the mayor here.”
“Oh. Um.” Maggie smiled, uncomfortable by her closeness, and glanced at the Thackers, exactly as Jane had hoped. Then the mechanic focused on Christopher, as if asking, what even is happening, really selling the illusion of salacious gossiping. “Yes. Well. Mayor Thacker is a majority stockholder of the Headliner, so he’s always interested in writers.”
So Jacob was on the board of directors, and the mayor was an owner. Hello, connection to Hannah. How many book club meetings had the mayor attended on the hunt for new talent?
“Maggie mentioned you’re writing a book retelling the different murders that have taken place in our town, including this one,” Abigail said with a flourish. She sipped from her flute of wine. “Well, so am I. So is Maggie. So is Jacob, for that matter.”
The urge to go home and write without pause until Jane reached the end bombarded her. If Abigail thought she would publish a bestseller featuring the Case of Cemetery Cat and Deadly Mouse—Murder in the Treasure Room? Invitation to Murder? Romancing the Gravestone? Grave Reviews?—well, she was sadly mistaken. Unless Abigail had written the original crime scene manuscript chapter, and this was a taunt.
Jane offered a tight smile. “How could I know what you were writing? You refused to say.”
“Are you or are you not detective enough to find out?”
Ohhh. Nice one. Was this the reason Jane had received an invite? Either she pretended to have heard about the other woman’s drivel, or she admitted to being a poor investigator.
