Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

W hen the guests left the house to go to dinner, Uncle Pete was just pulling into the driveway. Cat saw Maggie pause as she saw him park his Charger, but Alicia took her arm and they walked away from the house. The girl was a godsend since she was probably the only Maggie whisperer in the group. Maggie wanted to know everything and didn’t have a problem with asking pointed questions. Even if they weren’t any of her business.

Cat was sure she’d be grilled tonight at the writer’s sprints about why her uncle had come to the house. The good thing was Cat could honestly say she invited him for dinner. She just wouldn’t tell Maggie the rest.

It wasn’t certain that Uncle Pete would answer any of her questions anyway. Information during an investigation was usually a one-way street. You told him things. He wrote them down. Sometimes he made faces. What he didn’t do was reciprocate with his information. Unless he wanted to tell Cat to be careful.

Her phone rang before she got to the kitchen. Grace Evans was calling. Cat sat on one of the benches Shauna had recovered in the foyer area. “Hi Grace, what’s going on?”

“Cat, I just wanted to check in. I saw you at the funeral but you didn’t stay long.”

Cat could hear the reproach in Grace’s tone. She’d made a social error by not staying. “I wasn’t feeling well, so Seth took me home. I’m sorry we didn’t have time to speak.”

“Oh, that was Seth Howard who came in with you. I assumed you’d be with Dante.” Graced pause a minute. “I saw Dante come in later.”

Now Cat had the opening to explain that she was never ‘with’ Dante, she’d just helped him host that mess of a party. Instead, she played stupid. “Dante was going to be late so Seth was kind enough to bring me. Dante had responsibilities.”

“Oh, you’re right, sorry for the misunderstanding,” Grace sounded relieved that Cat and Dante were still together.

Cat felt a twinge of guilt about leading her on. But she had been asked to play a part. She should have thought of that before Seth decided to take her to the funeral. Being a secret agent wasn’t ever going to be one of Cat’s super skills. “Anyway, can I chat with you later? My uncle just showed up and we’re having dinner.”

“I know you’re super busy with the retreat this week. Maybe we could have coffee on Friday? I’d love to get your thoughts on the funeral. I don’t think Lucy Johnson is handling Allen’s death very well.”

Cat knew the writers would be at the bookstore at ten tomorrow with Tammy Jones talking about the business of writing so she could sneak away then to meet with Grace. “The Coffee Bean a little after ten? I need to get the writers set up before I can leave.”

“Perfect. And I won’t keep you. I just think that Lucy could use some support.” Grace said her goodbyes then hung up.

Cat tucked her phone into her jeans after making sure the call had ended. Then she said to the empty foyer, “If you were truly worried about Lucy maybe you could stop by her house rather than meeting me to gossip about her actions today.”

Seth walked out of his apartment just as Cat was finishing her monologue. “I’m glad you’re not talking to me. Are you?”

Cat met him at the kitchen door. “No, just doing that thing where you think of the perfect comeback after you hang up the phone. Wait, it wasn’t that. It was saying what I wanted to say but I was too polite to say it.”

“Okay, I’m leaving that statement alone. Do you need me to drive tomorrow to the bookstore?” He had his phone on calendar mode. “I have you booked at nine forty-five for a drop-off. I don’t think they’ll need to be driven back unless it snows, and they decide to forgo lunch.”

“I told them that Tammy would ship any books to their house already. So, I don’t think either of those situations will happen, so yes, your calendar is right. I’m going to have coffee with Grace Evans while they’re with Tammy.” She started to push the swinging door open. “And there’s one more thing.”

He sighed as he followed. “What is it now?”

“Uncle Pete’s joining us for dinner.”

It took a few minutes for everyone to be settled at the table and for Shauna to sit down after bringing bowl after bowl of yummy food.

Uncle Seth met Shauna’s gaze. “This all looks wonderful. I can’t decide to count it as an early Thanksgiving dinner or worry that you’re buttering me up for something.”

“We missed you and Shauna has been worried about you not eating,” Cat dished up mashed potatoes and put them on the plate next to the slice of meatloaf. Then she poured brown gravy over everything. The green salad was already served in a separate bowl. “I wanted to hear about what was going on with Allen’s death. The funeral was just bizarre, and the widow is freaking out because her friend is telling her that the mob is coming for the money that she didn’t steal, and she doesn’t know where Allen hid it if he did.”

“Kim’s telling her that?” The crease over Uncle Pete’s forehead. Now he rubbed his hand over it absently. “I swear, people can’t just be supportive. If everyone would play nice with others, my job would be obsolete. Instead, I’ve got a woman winding up a widow with words that aren’t even true.”

“So the mob, the family,” she corrected her wording, “isn’t worried about the money?”

“The money, yes, but they are letting me investigate. Aspen Hills and Covington College are protected from their system of justice.” Uncle Pete shook his head. “I’ve been part of this community for years. If someone from the organization says they didn’t kill Allen, you can trust it unless someone went rogue. And that hasn’t happened in years. Not since the Michael incident.”

“What do you know about Kim?” Cat watched her uncle’s reaction, and she could tell that the question had surprised him.

“You can’t think that Kim Slate killed Allen or took the money. She’s worked for the college forever. She raised her son and then he graduated from college and went off to law school several years ago. I hear he’s working for a big firm in New York.” Uncle Pete took the basket of fresh rolls from Shauna and then passed the basket to Seth after taking a roll. He shook it at Cat for emphasis on his last words. “She’s a townie.”

“Townies don’t kill or steal? You’ve got an easy job here then,” Cat focused on eating so that Uncle Pete could consider his prejudice.

Seth handed him the butter. “All I know is I agree with Cat that the funeral was super weird. It was like everyone was expecting the body to jump out of the coffin with a machine gun and plow down the entire church.”

“I think you watch too many movies,” Shauna said a small smile on her lips. “My friend, Tina, was there and she said it was quiet but normal. Except for the widow of course. But she knows Lucy. She’s always been a little distant.”

Cat concentrated on eating her salad as she listened to the conversation. There weren’t any hard facts to go on in either Allen’s death or the theft. Or at least, in the loss of the money, nothing that didn’t leave a trail toward Dante. Cat realized neither her uncle nor Seth was pushing the evils of Dante. They didn’t like the guy because he was in a dangerous line of work. But they didn’t think he’d steal or kill someone for money. This had to be a first.

Shauna elbowed her. “Okay, spill. I can see it all over your face. You know something.”

Cat shook her head, embarrassed that Shauna could read something on Cat that she hadn’t said aloud. “I’m just thinking. I’m worried about Lucy. I feel like I haven’t helped with the investigation at all.”

“Thank you,” Uncle Pete said as he grabbed another roll.

Frowning, Cat turned to him. “Thank you? What are you thanking me for?”

“This is the first time that I haven’t felt like you’re in the middle of things. I know you hate that idea, but I love the fact that you’re clueless.” He held up his hand. “At least in who killed Allen and who stole the money. Maybe no one will come after you this time.”

He glanced at his watch. “Thanks for the grub, Shauna. I’ve got to get home. Shirley’s Facetiming me this evening and I need to get changed. We call it a date night.”

After he left, Cat and Seth helped Shauna clean up the kitchen including the dishes. Shauna started the dishwasher. “Do you need me to run the writing sprints tonight?”

Cat wiped the table. “No, Maggie’s doing it. I feel disconnected from this group for some reason. So, I’ll be there. I want to make sure they’re getting their money’s worth with the dancing author.”

“Dancing monkey,” Seth corrected. “Besides, you can’t dance.”

“That would be what you comment on. Not reassurance that I’ve been providing a lovely retreat, but that I can’t dance.” Cat rolled her eyes and Shauna laughed.

“I’m glad you don’t need me because I need to bake a few batches of cookies. Your writers are snackers.” Shauna turned on the tea kettle. “Now get out of my kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Seth looked around the room and snapped his fingers for Sam to follow him. “I’ve got laundry to do anyway.”

“I should go up and clean out my emails,” Cat followed Seth out of the room and into the hallway.

“You don’t want to do my laundry for me?” He aimed a crooked smile her way.

“In your dreams, big guy.” Cat headed up the stairs, then paused. “Hey, thanks for coming with me today. I know this isn’t easy.”

“Cat when has anything with us been easy? I like spending time with you. I always have,” he said as he opened his apartment door and left her alone in the foyer.

She thought about his words as she headed upstairs. She didn’t have a lot of time before the writers returned from dinner, but she hadn’t checked her email since Monday and although she probably hadn’t missed anything, sometimes she had surprises. Besides, it kept her from doing Seth’s laundry.

There wasn’t much there, but she updated her social media accounts as she waited for the evening session. Then she spent time planning her day for Friday and Saturday. She was meeting with two authors before the field trip to the bookstore and the rest of her one-on-ones were in the afternoon. Then Friday night, they’d have their last session together, besides the dinner on Saturday night. She’d thought about adding events to Saturday’s schedule, but the writers seemed to enjoy the time to get more words done on the documents or spend a few last hours in the library researching. Besides, it was good practice for them to go back to the solo experience that being a writer entailed. Hours at the computer alone, forming a scene that advanced the story, or editing a timeline that had gone wonky.

Authors spent a lot of time alone. She was lucky that she had Seth and Shauna here at the house. Otherwise, she’d be here by herself, with her cat, Angelica, to talk to most of the time. Sharing her oversized house with the writers’ retreat also brought people into her world. People she might never meet in real life if not for the event. Even when she went to conferences, she had her assignments and her appointments. But she walked by so many people she recognized by their faces but had no idea what they wrote or who they were.

Cat was lucky. She had friends and family here in Aspen Hills. She worked with community members and people from the college. She had a life outside her office and her imaginary friends she worked with every day she opened her Word document.

It was a good life.

Her watch alarm went off and she realized it was time to head downstairs. She took the agenda she’d written up along with her laptop and a notebook. She would participate in word sprints tonight and hopefully, she could have a reasonable word count at the end of the week. Most retreat weeks she came out with more words than a normal week. This retreat had felt a little different. But words were words and she had a deadline next month.

Most of the group was in the dining room, getting sustenance for the evening’s activities. Shauna had put out a plate of still-warm brownies that Cat could smell as she came down the stairs. Somehow, she ignored the siren call of chocolate and went into the living room to get organized. Jon Booth was there, standing at the podium reading his section aloud.

“Sorry, am I disturbing you?” Cat asked as Jon stopped reading and stared at her, his face turning beet red.

He shook his head and took in a shaky breath. “I don’t think I can do this. I’ve never let anyone read my stuff before.”

Cat nodded and sat down. “I know it’s scary. But you can do it. And there’s one thing I forgot to tell you all about publishing. Once you sell your book, it’s not yours. Everyone seems to have an opinion about what should be said, who your main character should be, and what the cover you’ve been imagining for years, should look like. So getting input early from other writers gives you experience in sifting through what changes to your vision you can live with, and what you can’t.”

“I thought they just edited the book. Why would they buy it and then make changes?” Jon leaned on the lectern, watching her.

“Because they liked something. The plot. The promise of the book. Or maybe they believed you could make this book shine.” Cat leaned back in her chair. “I have to admit, it was a learning experience for me. This is a safe place. You can hear or read the questions that the group has and either take the suggestion or leave it. Nothing is riding on tonight. If you think you can’t read, I’ll read it for you. Sometimes that gives you a different experience, listening to what you wrote versus what you wanted to say.”

He looked at her, then down at the papers in front of him. Then back at her. “I’ll read. But can you be here just in case I freeze?”

“Of course,” she held up her notes. “I’ll start the session with the plan for tomorrow and Saturday. Then I’ll ask if anyone has questions. And after that, I’ll hand it over to you.”

“You make it seem so natural.” Jon glanced at the empty chairs. “What if they hate the book?”

“What’s the worst they can say? And did anyone trash a reader the last two nights?”

He shook his head. “The comments were mostly good, but I know I made some suggestions on the papers I gave back. I didn’t want to embarrass them. I guess the worst they can do is laugh and tell me to go back to my day job.”

“Would you do that to anyone in your group?”

“No way. Everyone’s trying hard. They spent money and time to come here to get better. And,” he paused, looking at her, “So did I and that’s why it’s a safe place. Sometimes I can be a little dense.”

“It’s easier for us to stand up for other people sometimes than it is to stand up for ourselves.” Cat glanced at her watch. “You’ve got five minutes before I start talking to grab some coffee or water. Or maybe a cookie or brownie for after you read?”

“Thanks for calming me down. I’m not sure coffee is a good idea, but I might get some tea.” He left the room.

Seth came into the room. “You are good at this.”

She smiled as she waved him closer. “He just needed to take a breath.”

“No, you were able to get him to put himself in someone else’s shoes. He didn’t remember that we’re all here to help each other.”

She stood and set her notes on the lectern. “Do you need me for something?”

He came over and pulled her into his arms. Then he kissed her, long and slow. Whistles and catcalls came from the doorway. He let her go and smiled at their audience. “Just that. I forgot to kiss you goodnight after dinner. Enjoy your writer thing.”

As he left, the group came inside the room and found their seats. They were all grinning. Except for Maggie Martin. She looked shocked. Her and Dante’s fake relationship had seemed real enough.

“Okay, so no comments from the peanut gallery about what just happened. And it’s six so we’ll get started. I’ve got a few announcements about our next few days and then I’ll turn the mic over to Jon who will be reading from his manuscript. Please remember to leave constructive comments and to give examples of what might work better in the scene.” She smiled at Jon who was gripping his mug tightly. “This is Jon’s first reading, so let’s be as supportive as possible.”

Nods from the group reassured her that he’d be in good hands. She’d read and made her comments earlier, making sure she had something positive to say as well as a general correction idea.

Now they just had to get through Jon’s reading without him having a heart attack from fear.

Running a writers’ retreat either with or without a murder to solve was always interesting. And, she smiled as she thought about Seth’s comment and his kiss. She was good at this. Maybe she should write a book or an article called Hosting a Writers’ Retreat at Home for One or Ten . She made a note on her agenda. That wasn’t a bad idea. Not at all.

“Okay, so we’ll have official writing sprints tonight and tomorrow night. If you want to pull together sprints on Friday or Saturday, that will be on you guys to organize. The living room is always available. Then Friday morning we’re heading to the bookstore. I’ll have one on one’s that morning and again Friday afternoon. Finally, on Saturday, everyone has free time until six pm when we’ll be getting into Seth’s van and heading out for dinner to celebrate the end of a hopefully successful retreat.” She smiled at the group. “Don’t forget to update your word count before three pm on Saturday on the official board. And bring any suggestions for future retreats or questions you need answers to at Friday’s evening session. We’ll go over your goal sheets tomorrow night too.”

“Sounds like a busy session. Maybe I shouldn’t plan on reading tomorrow night,” Debra Jennings offered.

Jon shook his head. “Sorry. If I have to go through this pain, you do as well. Besides, you signed up for this torture, I mean, learning experience.”

The group laughed and Cat looked at her notes. “That’s all I’ve got unless someone has a question. Jon, you’re in the hot seat.”

The group clapped and cheered as he walked to the lectern. He took a deep breath, then smiled. “Don’t be offended, but I’m imagining you all in your underwear right now.”

Then he started reading.