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A knock sounded at the door before she could. “Jane,” Beau called through the block of wood.
Lucy climbed through the window without another word. With a sigh, Jane closed the pane.
“Jane?” Beau insisted. “If I don’t hear from you in the next five seconds, I’m coming in. Period or not.”
Deep breath in. Out. Okay. “Coming, Beauregard.” Time to catch the mice at play.
CHAPTER NINE
Use clichés like there’s no tomorrow. There’s a reason a phrase becomes old hat. Everyone loves the tried and true.
Y’all Write Now–Advice for New Writers
by Tabby Paynes-Murksand
Jane opened the bathroom door to find Beau resolute with his arms crossed over his chest. A line of three waited behind him. His expression demanded answers.
Because she had a long-standing rule to never lie to her friends, or anyone–though, yes, she sometimes misled for a case–she smiled sweetly and tugged Beau down the hall to rejoin the guests.
“Be on the lookout for paperwork that gives the Treasure Room to Maggie Johnson,” she instructed softly.
His eyes narrowed. “How do you suddenly know there’s paperwork when I’ve heard nothing about it?”
“You have your ways, I have mine.” Her gaze landed on Jacob Thacker, who seemed to have been waiting for her. He glided toward her. Excitement and triumph flooded Jane. Ignoring him and his father had worked, luring over the weaker link. “Game face on,” she muttered.
“Jane Ladling?” Jacob asked, his tone pleasant. Not the route she’d expected him to take.
“Yes. That’s me. And please, Mr. Thacker, call me Jane. This handsome slice of pound cake is Beau.” The war vet faced the town’s first son. “Hello,” he grunted.
“I’m Jacob Thacker. Though you clearly knew that. I’m also president of Golden Pages Book Club.” He extended his hand, and they shook. Then he shook Beau’s hand. Then she shook Beau’s hand because she got caught up in the moment.
Get it together, Jay Bird.
Beau tried not to laugh at her.
“Please, call me Jacob,” the newcomer added.
“Nice to meet you, Jacob,” she said. “Out of curiosity, and no hard feelings, did you block my invitation to speak to the book club members?” How smooth would he be, getting out of the hot water she’d just poured all over him?
He blinked, as if stunned. Then he surprised her by blushing a little and laughing nervously. “I did, yes. After my mother’s arrest, my lawyer advised me to avoid everyone with a connection to her case.” He shrugged his shoulders, all you understand, right? “That’s why I asked Mags–Maggie to strike your name from the list.”
Oh, he was good. Not just smooth, but slick. Bringing up his mother’s arrest without becoming accusatory was either the move of a perfect gentleman or a great gamer.
Attempting to lull Jane into liking him, so she would remove him from the official suspect list? Too bad, so sad.
“How long have you served as book club president?” she asked.
“This is my first year. I took over for Mags. Maggie,” he clarified once again.
Time to dig deeper. “Are you and Maggie close?” They must be, for him to continue using such a personal nickname.
He offered a wry smile as his glance strayed toward the mechanic, who remained in Abigail’s court. “You could say that.”
Ooooh. Did he love her? He loved her, didn’t he? That’s why he lived in the house next door to hers.
How easy it would be to go back and forth between residences planning Hannah’s murder. A man in love might kill to make the object of his affection happy.
The idea had merit. But so did the supposition that Jacob had worked alone to ultimately eliminate the main witness against his mother, with Hannah being collateral damage. “Did you two ever date?”
