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CHAPTER EIGHT
The dialogue tag “said” is boring. Let your characters whisper vehemently or blast with indignant fury!!!
Y’all Write Now–Advice for New Writers
by Tabby Paynes-Murksand
Whoa. Jane jolted with realization. “You suspect Christopher of being the killer.” She trudged to her seat and plopped down. But that was preposterous. Wasn’t it?
“He certainly fits Lucy’s description of the killer.” Conrad stated the words flatly, then sighed. “But no. He would’ve had to be in two places at once, killing Hannah while buying groceries with three other firemen.”
Hmm. A thought occurred to Jane. She remembered what Christopher had said. How the call had come in, mentioning an unconscious woman, and it had frightened him because he’d believed it was his girlfriend Maggie. He’d gone running. “Did the anonymous caller, who is probably the killer, give a description of the unconscious woman?”
“They mentioned a dark-haired female, but no other details.”
On the run, Lucy wouldn’t have taken the time to describe Jane’s hair color to the 911 operator. Right? And why mention that particular detail unless on purpose?
What if the caller hoped to lure Christopher to the Treasure Room? Perhaps Jane had been nothing but bait, and the killer had stuck around to strike at Christopher upon his arrival, but Lucy blew the plan to smithereens. A total possibility, especially as the caller gave the very detail needed to convince Christopher that Maggie was the victim.
Or perhaps the killer liked the idea of pitting Jane’s ex against her fiancé?
The fireman should go through his mortal enemies list STAT. Did Donnie Eggerson have a beef with him? Although, considering all the connections to certain book club members, that might be the better place to start. And since significant others were always the first suspects, Jane turned her attention right back to Maggie. Up the suspect list she climbed.
Did the mechanic hope to hurt Christopher by hiring a hitman to play this game? Get Christopher out of the way because she’d fallen in love with someone else, maybe? What better method of discarding him and gaining sympathy from others than losing him to a game of murder? But why choose Hannah, a close friend, as the first victim? A simple matter of opportunity?
An interesting line of supposition.
“While I don’t suspect Mr. Wellington of murder at this time,” Conrad said, picking up their conversation, “I do suspect him of being in love with you.” He sat and picked up a pen. “Tell me about your relationship with him. You’re ready. I see it in your eyes.”
She was ready. And now, at least, she understood what was going on here. Her darling was jealous, and he’d expertly hidden it during his interaction with Christopher. How adorable was that?
“I met him fiveish years ago when I accidentally started a small fire at the Garden. There was more smoke than anything,” she added in her own defense. “I hadn’t yet gotten over my sadness from Grandma Lily’s passing. I let memories get the better of me while cooking. My oil caught fire.”
Fearing the worst, she’d called for help. By the time the professionals arrived, she’d already put out the flames. Even still, in had raced Christopher, tall, dashing and decked out in his uniform. He’d returned the next day and offered to repair the damage. They’d talked, and yes, flirted. He’d asked her out, but she’d said no, too afraid of the curse to take a chance. But he’d proved persistent and hadn’t given up.
“We hit it off and remained in touch on and off for a year and a half or so,” she continued. They’d occasionally chatted on the phone and exchanged silly facts. Every so often, he’d asked her out again. One day, she’d realized they could see each other as long as she didn’t fall in love with him. Keep her feelings under control, and the curse had zero power. Finally, she’d said yes. “Eventually, we went on an official date.” Then another and another.
“Did you love him?” Conrad’s voice remained unworried.
“No.” Though it had been difficult to resist at times, especially when Christopher had smiled with his easy appeal. “I liked being with him and thought he liked being with me, too. He never requested more. Then, only a couple months into being exclusive, he came over, accurately accused me of being emotionally unavailable, something he’d never complained of before, and broke up with me.”
Relief glittered in Conrad’s beautiful amber eyes as he reclined in the chair and rubbed two fingers over the dark stubble on his chin. “I bet he fell for you, and instead of being a man and telling you how he felt, he tried to get you to chase him by breaking up with you.”
“Doubtful. He began dating someone else pretty quickly.”
“Another childish ploy,” Conrad said. “Did you stay in touch?”
“Other than a few texts asking how I was doing or running into each other in town, no. We even stopped waving at each other a whole year before I met you.”
“Thank you for sharing with me.”
“You’re welcome. But what makes you think he still loves me?” After all, Christopher had a potentially wonderful girlfriend who may or may not have participated in a murder. “Other than your raging jealousy issues, of course.”
A corner of Conrad’s mouth twitched. “I happen to know firsthand a guy never gets over you.”
Jane snorted. “He’s had plenty of time to win me over, yet he never even tried. So give me a reason that isn’t Conrad Ryan specific.”
“I did. But here’s a second one. If he’s anything like me, seeing you fall in love with another man when you didn’t fall for him riled him up.”
