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Teeny Weenie gives a few sharp barks. “Bella once said she wished she could kill a few people, too.”
Note to self: shake the little wiener down for all his little ghostly weenie is worth.
“Crane, did Bella seem visibly upset that night?” I ask. “Did she seem to be having a disagreement with anyone?”
“Not that I can recall.” The redhead presses her lips tight. “But you know, she did mention something about an old case coming back to haunt her.”
“Were the two of you talking about old cases?” Keelie asks. “Swapping war stories from the trenches?”
That’s what I love about Keelie. Unlike Carlotta, Keelie really knows how to finesse a suspect.
She presses her face close to Crane’s. “Or say, plotting on how to lure one another to a back alley to finish them off? How’d you do it?”
On second thought, Keelie might just be a bigger liability at this point.
“Please ignore the two of them,” I tell the woman. “We’re just so morbidly curious about what could have transpired that night.”
“I can’t blame you,” she says. “Didn’t you find the body? You and your sister were both screaming your heads off.”
I nod. “That we were. I’m sorry you and your friends had to see any of it. How are they doing?”
“They’re pretty broken up about it. Marlena is really keeping to herself and Danya is a wreck. I’m a bit more hard-boiled from my time in the courtroom. My novels reflect that.”
“So did Bella’s from what I hear.” I bite down on my lip, scouring my brain for something else to ask her. “So did that night seem to be ending well before the two of you split ways?”
“For the most part.” She glances to the ceiling as if considering it. “Marlena mentioned something about getting together with Bella at her house the next night. And Bella and Danya exchanged a few playful barbs. Bella was always getting herself into trouble with her tongue. If she wasn’t sassing someone, she was forever bragging about how many books she sold, how many preorders were flooding in, and how her paperbacks were just flying off the shelves. The funny thing is, I knew the truth. I know my way around this business.”
“And I know my way around this pizza,” Weenie hiccups.
I glance his way, and to my horror there’s not a single crumb left on Crane’s dinner plate. Good gracious that little goblin gobbled up the entire thing.
“I know my way around the publishing business myself,” Carlotta interjects. “And those that can’t, teach.”
“Carlotta.” I shake my head at her.
“She’s not wrong.” Crane shrugs. “I know for a fact Bella was lying about all of her numbers. I watched her ranks on the digital charts. Her numbers were worse than mine. And I’m not selling nearly as many as she proposed she sold. If she really sold as many books as she claimed to in a day, she’d be in the top ten—she was more like top sixty thousand. But there was just something in her that had to pretend to be on top.” She nods to Carlotta. “And she taught writing classes on the side. They were prerecorded digital classes and she charged a mint for each course. I think that was keeping her alive—financially speaking these last few years.”
That conversation I had with Lou yesterday about novelists knowing their way around a gun comes to mind.
“Crane, do you know if Bella carried a concealed weapon?”
Her mouth opens a notch. “Um, I think she did. In fact, I know she did.”
“Do you?” I ask.
“Oh, heavens, no.” She laughs. “Only Bella was silly enough to think she needed protection.”
Weenie barks in protest. “Bella wasn’t silly. She was prudent. She often met clients in seedy locations, and the gun made her feel safe and empowered.”
I nod his way. I can see why she’d feel the need to have a little protection around. I would have brought Ethel along tonight since we were headed to a seedy location ourselves, but I knew I wouldn’t have anywhere to hide her once I dropped my trousers.
Someone calls for Crane and lets her know she’s up next.
“In a sec,” she shouts back before turning our way. “If you girls really want a heads-up on what was going on in Bella’s life, I’d talk to Marlena.” She glances down at her plate and gasps. “Not again. I swear, I don’t remember eating half the meals set in front of me these days. I inhaled that lasagna from Rizzo’s the other night and don’t even remember what it tasted like.”
Weenie snorts. “That was me, too. And it tasted delicious. I wouldn’t mind a little more marinara next time.”
I’ll mention it to Charlie. Not that she’ll be in the mood to discuss lasagna.
