Murder by Page One by Olivia Matthews (good novels to read in english TXT) 📕

“No, she hadn’t.” Zelda dried her eyes. Her face was pale and pinched. “The error had been mine. I had made the mistake, and it went undiscovered until Fiona’s audit. Confronting her just made matters worse. At first, I felt like a failure. Afterward, I also felt like a fool. The whole thing really shook my confidence, you know? I didn’t even have the courage to apply for another job.”

“I’m so sorry.” I waited a beat for her to regain her composure before continuing. “Is that the reason you and Fiona stopped attending your writers group’s critique sessions? Because of this bad experience?”

Zelda took a shuttering breath. “I can’t speak for her, but that’s part of the reason I stopped attending. Seeing her reminded me of my failure. It was bad enough sitting next to her during the meetings. I didn’t want to extend my discomfort with the critique sessions.”

“I’m truly sorry you had that experience.” I considered the other woman. She was smart, professional, personable, and loved books. “I don’t mean to pry, but have you found another job? The library is filling entry-level positions. They’re only part-time, but you could get a paycheck while looking for something more suitable.”

Zelda offered me a weak smile. “Thank you, Marvey, but I already have a part-time job. Fiona hired me.” She sighed again. “Instead of being grateful, I was embarrassed. Pride is a sin. I’d been a financial manager for a national bank. Now I’m working part-time for a local accounting firm. Well, it’s a paycheck and it’s helping to rebuild my confidence.”

“Good luck. And thank you for sharing your experiences with me. I know you didn’t have to.”

“They were right.” Zelda squared her shoulders. “Confession is good for the soul. So are you taking me off your list of persons of interest?”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re cleared.” I rose from the soft floral armchair. “But if you think of someone who may have had a stronger motive to kill Fiona, could you please let me know?”

She looked up at me. “You know, during that whole ordeal, Fiona never told a soul outside of the bank about my mistake. Not even Nolan. Even after I confronted her. She never told a soul.”

“It makes me wonder whether she was the villain people considered her to be.”

Zelda stood. “It’s been my experience people often aren’t what they may seem.”

That was only part of the problem.

Chapter 27

We were crossing names off our suspect list quickly. Too quickly? Betty, Bobby, Willy, Nolan, Zelda. Was I too trusting of their protestations of innocence? One of these people must be the killer.

Or am I overlooking someone?

These doubts and second-guesses dogged my footsteps as I rejoined my friends. The only thing I was absolutely clear on was Jo’s innocence.

“I just spoke with Zelda Taylor.” I found Jo and Spence beside one of the front book displays of new nonfiction releases. I lowered my voice to share what I’d learned.

“Maybe blackmail wasn’t her motive.” Jo sounded as desperate and frustrated as I felt. “Maybe she had another reason to want to hurt Fiona.”

Spence put a comforting hand on Jo’s shoulder. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Jo.” A bookstore employee bounded forward. Her big brown eyes smiled, and her mass of reddish-gold curls seemed to wave at us before she centered her attention on her employer. “I’m sorry to interrupt y’all. Ms. Jo, I was wondering if you’d seen my jacket? I’m sure I’d left it in the storage room.”

The words “storage room” grabbed my attention. A jacket was missing from the crime scene? I gave the store clerk a measuring look. She was about my height—five-foot three—and slender. Our primary suspects probably wouldn’t be able to fit into her jacket to cover themselves from the blood. Disappointed, I allowed my thoughts to wander. What was my next move?

“I’m sorry, Blanche. I don’t recall seeing a jacket.” Jo frowned as though searching her memory. “What did it look like?”

Blanche shook her head, reanimating her curls. “It’s actually my boyfriend’s. He loaned it to me a little more than a week ago. It’s just a plain black spring jacket. It’s pretty beat up, but I told him I got cold in the storage room sometimes, and he said I could hold onto it.”

Hope revived in my heart. I used the new information about the jacket to tailor my mental image of our suspects’ ability to fit into it. “What size is the jacket?”

“Well, he’s pretty big.” She nodded to emphasize her statement, changing the course of her swinging curls. “His jacket just about swallowed me up. Donny’s about six-foot five and about two hundred pounds.”

Any of our suspects would fit into that size comfortably. “When was the last time you saw it?”

“I’m not really sure.” She angled her head and contemplated the store’s white textured ceiling. Waiting for her to finish her sentence was like waiting for ketchup to come out of a bottle. “Well, no, that’s not right. I had it on last Saturday morning when we were unpacking the boxes for the book signing.” She looked at me again and shrugged a shoulder apologetically. “Donny’s a great guy, but he’s not The One. You know what I mean? And I’m not getting any younger. I need to move on.”

“I understand.” Although I wasn’t certain I did.

The young woman smiled her appreciation. “Thanks! But I need that jacket.” A cloud swept away her smile. “I can’t break up with Donny without it. Well, I guess I’ll just keep looking. Thanks, y’all!”

Frowning, I tracked Blanche’s bounding gait as it carried her briskly across the store. “Now we know how the killer left the store without anyone noticing all that blood.”

“I’m so sorry, Phoenix.” I freed my tabby from his cat carrier the minute we walked through our front door Friday evening. Our trip to the vet had been enlightening, but still traumatic.

I carried Phoenix to the faux leather