Five Spot Page 8

  “I still think you should stop dreaming,” Wilson said. We turned the next corner and kept moving. “Until I know where that poison originated, you eat and drink nothing I don’t hand you personally. You understand?”

  I stopped short. “You cannot be serious?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m serious.” He used his cop-like voice to inform me he’d be leaving the hotel to get all our meals. And while I huffed and puffed, he also told me he was dropping me with my mother. “Then I’ll go get lunch.” He peeked down the hallway. “And before we have an argument in front of Tessie, you’ll stay in her room with the door locked, and open up only for me. You got it?”

  “Why don’t you just lock me in a jail cell, Captain Rye?”

  “I would, but we’re out of my jurisdiction.”

  I folded my arms and glared. “I do not like being bossed around.”

  “You like being alive?”

  Chapter 13

  “You’ve been crying,” I told my mother.

  “I’ve been thinking.” She glanced at the Cupid that Wilson was holding and sniffled. “I’m sorry, Jessie, but it’s hard to believe someone tried to kill you over that.”

  “Inside, ladies!” Wilson pushed me through the doorway, and the three of us found seats in Mother’s room. She took the easy chair, I sat cross-legged on the bed, and Wilson put down my Cupid and pulled up the desk chair.

  He tapped her hand. “What’s your intuition telling you, Tessie?”

  “Not intuition. Logic. Adam Sheppard got me to thinking.” Mother told Wilson that the bellhop had been kind enough to escort her to her room. “He wanted to talk about Penelope Shay, didn’t he?”

  Wilson raised an eyebrow. “Did he?”

  “Wilson, honey, everyone in this hotel is talking about Penelope.”

  “What did Adam have to say?”

  Mother sighed. “We agreed right off the bat that Penelope liked to upset the apple cart. Evidently she wasn’t satisfied with her room.”

  “She got a suite,” I said. “All the inductees did.”

  “Yes, but she assumed you got a better suite. According to Adam, Penelope was convinced you were getting better treatment than she was.” Mother tapped her forehead. “When he left, I put on my thinking cap.”

  “You thought about the seating arrangements this morning,” Wilson said, and Mother startled us with a sob.

  “The musical chairs! That water glass was meant for Jessie.” She reached for my hand. “What if you hadn’t switched spots?”

  I failed to answer, and Wilson’s response wasn’t exactly encouraging.

  “I don’t like to upset you,” he told her. “But right now our biggest concern is keeping Jessie safe. You understand?”

  “Of course I do. That person is still here. We need to protect my daughter!”

  I raised my free hand and asked if anyone would like to hear my opinion, but the answer to that was a resounding no. While my mother and my husband discussed my safety and well-being as if I were a child, I got up to find some tissues.

  “We’re not sure the poison was intended for me,” I said when I came back from the bathroom. “The chief of police isn’t even convinced it was poison.”

  Mother snatched a tissue out of my hand. “Who are you trying to fool, Jessica Hewitt?”

  “She’s not fooling anyone,” Wilson said. He told my mother his rules regarding my diet for the weekend, and of course she approved wholeheartedly.

  “Jessie’s lucky to have such a capable bodyguard, isn’t she?” she said.

  My husband shrugged modestly while I rolled my eyes at Mr. Cupid.

  “But she’s upset right now,” Mother continued speaking to Wilson. “I think a light lunch would be best, don’t you? Perhaps a nice garden salad.”

  “Mother!” I stomped my foot. “I’m fifty-four years old. I think I can decide for myself what I want for lunch.”

  “Okay then.” Wilson stood up and found Mother’s key card on the dresser. “What do you say, Adelé? What’ll it be?”

  I slumped. “A garden salad, please.”

  ***

  “Okay, so who did it?” I asked the second Wilson was gone. I fluffed up the pillows at the headboard, and Mother and I sat back and put our feet up. I tapped her right foot with my left. “Did anyone seem odd to you?”

  “They’re all odd, Honeybunch.”

  Good point. I asked if anyone seemed particularly unusual, and she mentioned the volunteers.

  “They’re awfully enthusiastic,” she said.

  “Wilson thinks they’re all batsy.”

  Mother giggled. “But they’re very fond of you.” She stopped smiling and caught my eye. “Adam’s fond of you also.”

  “Ah, so you noticed.”

  “I’m serious, Jessie. You need to be careful.”

  I conceded that Adam had a teeny tiny crush on me. “But it’s completely innocent.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Oh, for Lord’s sake, Mother!” I nudged her foot again. “The man is ten years my junior.”

  “Yes, and Wilson is five years your junior.”

  I blinked twice. “Are you really worried about Adam?” I asked, but someone knocking—or rather, banging—on the door spared me her answer.

  “Tessie!” Louise Urko called out. “Jessica! I mean Adelé! Are you in there, Adelé?” Bang, bang, bang. “Is Jessica in there, Tessie? Are you in ther—”

  “Geez!” I hopped up and skittered across the room while Louise continued to make a racket. I poked my head out and looked both ways. “Would you please shush?”

  “Well then, invite me in!” She pushed me aside and swept into the room. And a second too late I recollected Wilson’s orders not to open up for anyone.

  ***

  “This is so completely and totally un-fantastical!” Louise plopped down on the bed beside my mother, and I realized she also had been crying.

  “Penelope was one of her clients.” I indicated Louise, and Mother offered my agent a few “there-theres” while I found some more tissues. I handed them over and took the chair Wilson had vacated.

  “I’ve been searching all over for you.” Louise dabbed her eyes. “You weren’t at lunch, you weren’t in your room, and you aren’t answering your cell phone.”

  I apologized for that. “I left the phone in my room this morning,” I said. “I didn’t want it to interfere at the ceremony.”

  “I finally thought to ask for you guys at the front desk,” Louise told Mother. “Judy was no help, but luckily Adam took pity on me. He gave me your room number.” She closed her eyes. “People are saying Penelope was poisoned. Was she poisoned?”

  I cringed at my mother. “Should we tell her?”

  “Tell me what?” Louise opened her eyes. “What, what, what?”

  We told her what.

  “What!?”she shrieked. “They meant to kill you? How completely and totally un-fantastical!”

  “Tell me about it,” I agreed.

  She sat up straight, jostling my mother just a tad. “You are in danger, Jessica! Danger, danger, danger! What can I do to help?”

  “You can get the hell out,” Wilson said, and the three of us jumped ten feet in the air. He set our lunch at the Cupid’s feet and glared at me. “Great job keeping the door closed.”

  ***

  Continuing along this polite and cordial vein, Wilson asked Louise what the hel—he remembered my mother—what the heck she was doing in Tessie’s room.

  “I’m here to help!” she said. “Your wife is in danger, you know!”

  The baby blues returned to me, and I murmured a few inanities while Louise repeatedly repeated her offer to help.

  “No, thank you.” Wilson kept his eyes on me, and I murmured a few “umms” and “ohs” until my mother interrupted.

  “Wilson, honey,” she said. “Louise has just lost one of her favorite clients. Shouldn’t we accept her kind offer?”

  “She helped us solve another murder,” I agreed.<
br />
  “She was a big help in Hawaii, wasn’t she?” Mother nodded.

  Wilson cleared his throat and made an effort to change his tone. “She didn’t know the entire population of the island, Tessie.” He spoke to Louise. “Around here, you’ll blabber everything you know to everyone you know. You have a big mouth.”

  Okay, so diplomacy isn’t exactly one of my husband’s strong suits, but bless her heart, Louise took no offense.

  “You are right!” She bounced a bit, again jostling my mother. “I do have a big mouth. I blabber! Blabber, blabber, blabber, blab—”

  Wilson stepped over and held onto Mother’s shoulder to steady her. “Did you happen to pack any Advil?” he asked her.

  ***

  Louise gasped. “I’m doing it right now! I’m blabbering! Blabber, blabber, blab—” She stopped short and gave herself a good shake. “No blabbering!” she said and promised—promised, promised, promised—to be good. “What can I do?”

  “First of all,” Wilson said after what seemed an interminable pause. “You can keep your big mouth shut that you’re helping us.”

  “Absolutely! Completely! Totally! My lips are sealed!” She made as if to zip her lips. “Jessica is my favorite client. I would never do anything to jeopardize her! Never, ever, ever, ev—”

  Wilson frowned at me. “What should we do with her? You got any bright ideas?”

  As a matter of fact, I did. I waved to get her attention, and Louise halted mid-blabber. “Yes, Jessica?”

  “You and Penelope had a meeting with Roberto this afternoon, correct?”

  “Correct. We were supposed to discuss Penelope’s future sales potential as a Hall of Famer.”

  “Well, go to the meeting anyway,” I said. “And pay close attention to Roberto. I think he was pretty mad when Jo Keegan gave him an assignment. You can gauge his mood.”

  Louise squinted. “That cop actually gave orders to Roberto?”

  “She has him putting together a list of aliases,” Wilson said.

  “A list of author pen names versus our real names,” I clarified.

  Louise harrumphed. “Well then, I can already tell you his mood.” She reminded me Roberto Santiago is used to giving orders, not taking them.

  “I know he’s a hot head,” I said. “But if anyone can placate him, it’s you, Louise. Find out what he knows. He must have a totally different perspective on this than the rest of us.”

  “But be discreet,” Wilson said, and I winked at my mother. Clearly the man was warming to the idea of Louise helping out.

  “And not to be callous,” I said. “But considering the circumstances, your meeting should be shorter than usual, correct?”

  “Maybe, for once.” For the benefit of those who were blessedly ignorant, Louise explained that Roberto’s business meetings were always “fantastically long and boring, boring and long.”

  “However,” I said, “if by chance he does let you out early, take advantage of your freedom. Snoop around the lobby, drop in on one of the seminars. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

  “What a fantastical idea, Jessica! I’ll snoop! Snoop, snoop, snoop, snoo—”

  “No.” Wilson used his cop-like voice, and she shut up. “No speaking,” he told her. “Eyes and ears open, mouth shut. You got it?”

  Louise scowled. “Mouth shut.”

  “You need to be discreet,” I said.

  “Discreet,” she said, deep in concentration.

  “You need to listen,” Mother added.

  “Listen,” she said. She stood up in rather a trance, and I steered her toward the door. She stopped and spoke to Wilson. “I will be discreet and listen. You’ll be happy you recruited me to your sleuthing team.”

  “Team?” Wilson turned to my mother and again requested that Advil.

  Chapter 14

  “Rabbit food,” Wilson said as he passed out our salads and some bottled water. I rejoined Mother on the bed, and he sat down at the desk with a sandwich for himself.

  “So?” he asked. “You two come up with any suspects? Who’ve you been talking about?”

  “Adam Sheppard is sweet on your wife,” my mother said, and I choked on a piece of lettuce.

  Wilson shook his head. “Tell me something I don’t know. Like who isn’t crazy about my wife?”

  “Penelope Shay,” I said.

  “Yes, but we should concentrate on people who aren’t dead.” Mother stated the obvious. “For instance, the emcee. I’m afraid she isn’t very fond of you, Jessie.”

  “Charm Willowby,” I said and reminded her she’d heard of Charm once before. “Remember the last time I was nominated for the Hall of Fame?”

  “She’s that author! And that agent who was pestering you?”

  “Tori Fister,” Wilson answered. “The enemy.”

  “The librarian stunt,” Mother said, and they took turns nodding indignantly.

  I rolled my eyes and ate a slice of cucumber, and my mother tried to make sense of Roaring Tori. “So that same agent who cheated you last time is now promising you all sorts of impossible things?” she asked. “The movies?”

  “Now that I’m a Hall of Famer, she wants me as her client.”

  “My goodness.” Mother sighed. “The romance-writing business seems quite competitive.”

  “It’s cutthroat,” Wilson said. “If you ask me, Tori Fister’s the most cutthroat person here.”

  Mother asked if she might have been responsible for the poison, but I shook my head.

  “She wants me as a client, not dead.”

  Nevertheless, my mother and my husband decided Tori Fister was a “person of interest.”

  “As is Charm Willowby,” Wilson added.

  “Come on, Wilson. Isn’t that taking our supposed rivalry a bit far?”

  “Not necessarily,” Mother argued. “I’m sure you’re a better writer than Charm. And I’m sure she can’t help it that she’s not as good at it as you. However—”

  “It means she’s jealous of you,” Wilson told me. “Could give us motive.”

  I had my doubts but did admit Charm’s last few novels had been disappointing. “She hasn’t had a best seller in years. Even with the pink seal of approval.”

  “The Hall of Fame thing, right?” Wilson asked, and I nodded. All Hall of Famers have the Pink Seal of Success prominently displayed on each and every book cover.

  “It’s a status symbol,” I said. “But it should also imply something about quality. If Charm’s books aren’t selling with the pink seal—”

  “They’re duds,” Mother finished for me. “But then why was she chosen as the emcee this morning? That seems like quite an honor.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe Tori pulled some strings?”

  “Another stunt,” Wilson mumbled and stood up to gather our trash.

  Mother also stood up. “What can I do to help?” she asked, and we told her nothing.

  “Stay here and rest,” Wilson said. “And I’ll go with Jessie to her seminar.”

  “Excuse me?” I said. “Exactly what are you planning to do at my seminar?”

  “I plan on guarding your sweet ass.” He glanced at my mother. “Pardon my French.”

  I waved a hand. “Earth to Wilson Rye. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb. I thought we were aiming for discreet?”

  “I’ll blend in.”

  “Excuse m—”

  “I can blend in,” Mother said.

  Excuse me? “No,” I told her in no uncertain terms.

  “There are lots of old ladies at this conference, Jessie.”

  “No.” Wilson joined me that time.

  “I can guard your sweet ass, Honeybunch.”

  “My sweet a—” I stopped short and glared at my husband. “Do you see what all this bodyguarding nonsense has wrought?”

  He cleared his throat and spoke to my mother. “You need to stay here, Tessie. Please.”

  “Wilson, honey,” she said. “If you think I’m going to sit here like a bump on a l
og while the person who wants to harm my daughter roams free, you have another think coming.

  “Now then.” She pushed past him and found a Happily Ever After seminar schedule on the desk. “I do agree you can handle Jessie’s sweet ass on your own. But you need another pair of eyes and ears, don’t you?” She skimmed the schedule. “I’ll sleuth at another seminar.”

  “Sleuth?” Wilson squeaked.

  “I’ll go to that nice woman Zelda’s seminar. Someone my age writing romance. Can you imagine?”

  I thought about the schedule and breathed a sigh of relief. “No can do,” I said. “Zelda has the afternoon off. The Glee Club thought she’d need to rest after the induction ceremony.”

  “Rest,” Wilson repeated. “You should stay here and rest.” He tried to take the schedule from her, but Mother’s grip was rather firm, and she won the tug-of-war.

  “Now let’s see—here’s one.” She read us the title. “Love and Marriage: Old and New Paths on the Road to Romance.” She looked up. “Doesn’t that sound fascinating?”

  “Faith will discuss the old path, and Gavin will explore more current trends,” I explained. “But you don’t want to go to that. You’ll either be shocked or bored.”

  “I’m eighty-four, Jessie. Nothing shocks me. And I certainly won’t be bored. I’ll be sleuthing.”

  “I hate that word.” Wilson made a show of snatching her schedule away and started skimming. “Penelope wasn’t scheduled to teach anything today?”

  “Just her business meeting with Roberto,” I said. “Which would have occupied her entire afternoon. Mine’s not until Monday.”

  He asked why they’d scheduled my meeting so late, and I reminded him of his Paramour for a Day duties. “While you’re off being charming and paramourish, I’ll be suffering through Roberto’s long and boring, boring and long strategy session.”

  “What if I don’t want to be paramourish?”

  “Business meetings aren’t my favorite either, Dearheart.”

  “Paramourish?” Mother asked, and I realized she hadn’t heard about the paramour thing. I told her I’d explain later and concentrated on my husband.