Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

C at took a selfie with the group on her phone before she started talking. “So where are you all today? I have your goal sheets here if you want to take them back and adjust themor just see what you need to do tomorrow. I’ll leave them on the coffee table and pick them back up at the end of the session. No pressure, but most groups find they’ve overachieved on what they thought they could have done this week.”

“I know I wrote more words than what’s on my goal page,” Alicia, the Covington student said as she reached for the file Cat held out. “I’ve been in school for five years now and have been working on this book since then. My professors always told me that my pace was normal. I think I just wasn’t focused on the writing enough. This week, that’s all I did, besides your sessions and eating.”

“It makes a difference. When you’re in the manuscript, day after day, you start to hear your characters. I know that some writers do a lot of headwork before writing. For me, the magic comes when I sit down. There’s something about that empty page that calls me to fill it. Sometimes I think what I’m writing will all be cut later, but I always keep writing. I can make that decision later. But when I go to cut later, I find my subconscious was building another character or a new class for my main character to learn something she needs later in the story. Which I hadn’t even planned.”

“So you’re a pantser,” Debra inquired.

Cat paused a moment before she answered. “Yes and no. The more I write and work with a publisher, the more structure my story or outline gets before I start writing. But that’s for them and to give me a direction to start. It’s like driving along distance. You know what freeway you’re going to take but the exits or off-ramps you take because you need to get out of the car and stretch your legs or get a cold drink, those you don’t plan. I like to say that I’m a gardener. I plant the seeds and see what grows.”

They talked a little more about goal setting and then Cat brought the group back to the agenda. “So make sure you have a system at home on how, when, and where you’re going to write. Set up or join local writing sprints. We have a Facebook page where writers post what they’ve been doing lately. I noticed several online writing sprint groups have been announced and formed there. You can drop in anytime.”

“Yeah, but Shauna’s cookies won’t be available,” Jon Booth grumbled.

“True. We have several reunion sessions each year where you can come for cookies or a shot in the arm for your writing.” Cat looked at her notes. “Anyway, besides brunch and treats, tomorrow will be a free day until dinner. I hope you spend some time tonight planning your last day here. I’ll be available all day. I might be writing, but I don’t have anything else planned.”

“What about the guy who died? Have they found out who killed him yet?” Alicia asked, glancing over at Debra. She had turned white, probably remembering finding the body. “Sorry, Debra, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, that’s okay. It’s just weird. I’m forty years old and I’ve never seen a dead body before. I write historical, but fiction, not mysteries, so I never even considered what someone would look like that way.” She shivered but then smiled. “I got a ton of pictures before that room though. I haven’t looked at the ones I took in the solarium though because that’s where I found him.”

A twinge of hope circled in Cat’s brain. Maybe Debra had caught something on film that Uncle Pete’s guys had missed. “Debra, send those pictures to me and I’ll send back the ones that are clear. That way, you don’t have to lose all your pictures in that room.”

“That’s nice of you. But are you sure? I don’t want you to get upset at what you see. One of us in a tizzy is enough.” Debra asked, but she was already opening her phone and the pictures app to send them to Cat.

“Not a problem,” Cat glanced at her watch. “Okay, well, like I said, I’ll be around most of the day tomorrow. I have one errand to run, but I should be back. Don’t eat too many brownies because I’m buying dinner. And the Mexican restaurant we’re going to is amazing.”

Jon stood and stretched. “Who’s running sprints tonight? I need coffee and a brownie now that Cat brought it up.”

Maggie stood and raised her hand. “I’ll run the sprints tonight, but I can’t tomorrow. My husband planned a luncheon for me to speak at so I’ll be out for a couple of hours.”

Jon laughed. “I called him and told him to keep you busy so I can write more and be the writer king. You were getting too close to my word count.”

“I wouldn’t put it passed you, but no, I think my husband is torpedoing my writing just fine on his own without your encouragement.” Maggie grinned at Cat. “But what he doesn’t know is I’m going to join the local writing group next week. It’s time for me to work on my career, not just his.”

As they started to walk out, Debra paused by Cat’s chair. “I sent you all those pictures. I tried not to look, but I’m not sure you can save any of them. It’s too bad. That room was beautiful. And so tastefully restored. Dante has a very detailed decorator.”

“He only hires the best,” Cat squeezed her arm. “Don’t worry. If I have to crop some of the pictures, I’ll get you something back before the end of the retreat.”

“I appreciate it,” Debra looked at the group leaving the living room. “I better go if I plan to snag a brownie. I swear Jon’s been hiding them in his room at night.”

“Shauna loves baking, so there are always more,” Cat closed her note file and tucked it in her tote. She wasn’t going to write tonight. She was going to clean up Debra’s pictures and send anything she found to her uncle. Maybe there would be something to get Dante off the hot seat. Besides him being by her side all night. Her uncle trusted her, but Dante had the means to hire someone so he was probably still on Uncle Pete’s list.

“Cat? I asked everyone else, but I found this flash drive by the table at the party Saturday night. I didn’t want to open it, in case it was a professor’s test answers or something that might be confidential. But no one has claimed it. Can I leave it with you? Maybe it was Dante’s or one of the guests from the party. I thought someone would claim it before we left, but now time’s ticking.” Alicia handed her the flash drive.

Cat glanced at the writing on the case. This was the second flash drive to appear during the retreat. Not unusual, but since Cat had given the first one to Uncle Pete and hadn’t heard anything back, she wondered if she was being given information she didn’t understand.

The drive looked like it was one of the promotional ones the campus gave out to prospective students with all the college information on it. A way they could study what Covington had to offer before applying for admission. She had found them in her first-year English classes all the time. The drive had a lot of room on it and the marketing material could be deleted and replaced with papers or assignments.

Most students used a marker to write their names on the back. This one only had the college name and crest.

“Thanks. I’ll take a peek and see if we can get it back to the owners. Thanks for being so thoughtful about the contents.” Cat tucked it in her pocket as she stood and grabbed her folder. “I’ll be up in my office if anyone needs me.”

“A bright idea you need to work out?” Alicia walked out to the foyer with her.

“Something like that,” Cat headed upstairs, smiling at the sound of happy writers in the dining room. Next week the house would be empty again and quiet. Which she liked too. Maybe she was becoming more of an extrovert as the retreats continued.

Having people around was starting to feel more normal. Even when they were all strangers at the beginning of the week. They had one thing in common, the need to write stories and share them with others.

Writers were the best kind of people.

As she settled into her office chair, she brought up her email from Debra. The first picture was from the hallway outside the conservatory. She glanced at it, then dragged it back to a new email to Debra. “Nothing scary there.”

She went to the next one and copied it to her uncle. Even if she didn’t see something, maybe his trained investigator eye might. The picture was focused on the windows that were backlit so the stained glass would show, even at night. It was beautiful. But not evidence. She put the picture back into Debra’s email.

The next one showed the rows of plants. She immediately copied it for her uncle, then blew it up. There was something red at the end of the photo. And it wasn’t on the floor so it wasn’t Allen’s blood. It might have been a bloom, but it was at an odd angle and too large. She put this photo back into Debra’s email after saving it to a file on her desktop. Then went to the next.

This one showed Allen’s body. She studied the snap andcopied it for her folder and another for her uncle. It occurred to her that Uncle Pete might already have these pictures since he’d talked to Debra the night of the murder. But it was better to be safe than sorry, he always said.

Cat cropped the picture to remove Allen and put the new copy back in Debra’s email. At least she’d have a picture showing the ornate woodworking in the walls behind the plants.

When she went to the next picture, she froze. The angle was the same as the one with the red spot, but now, she could see a door clearly behind where the red spot had been. She opened the earlier picture to compare them.

It was the same angle. Someone had been leaving the scene just as Debra came inside the room and found the body. Someone in a red dress.

The killer was female. And wore a red dress.

After going through the pictures, she sent the email to her uncle. And called him. He answered. “What?”

“No, hello dear niece, I’ve missed you?” Cat teased, then she got to the point. “Anyway, I just sent you an email with a bunch of pictures Debra took.”

“I’ve already looked at the pictures. She sent them to me.”

She could hear him opening his laptop. He must be home as the television was on in the background. “So you know the killer was female.”

“What are you talking about?” Now the television went on mute and she waited as he went through the pictures. He came back on the line, “I don’t see one of this potential killer you see. What am I missing?”

She opened the email. “Look at the picture labeled five, then the one labeled six.”

“Okay, I see a lot of plants and a wall.”

She smiled. “I think that’s a door. And look at the same spot in six.”

“It’s red. How does that mean the killer is female?”

She leaned back, “Because the party was a black-tie event. All the guys were in black tuxedos and the women were in colored dresses. The staff wore all black. The only red would have been a female guest.”

“Text your friend and see if there was a professional photographer there to take pictures for the society page. I need to know the name of any woman in red.”

“You want me involved?” She was already texting Dante. It was a rhetorical question. Or maybe just to rub it in.

“You already are involved from what I see. And you found a clue. You can follow up with him.” He paused and she knew he was going through the pictures again. “Good job on this. I missed it.”

She got an answer back from Dante. She relayed the information to Uncle Pete. “Aspen Hills Photography. Amber Hillcrest was the photographer. Do you want me to visit her?”

“I can do that, thank you. Now I’m going back to watching my game. I’ll chat with you in the morning.”

She put her phone away, happy she’d been able to do something. This didn’t clear Dante but at least it was a lead. And those had been short and far between lately.

She glanced at her watch. The writers would probably be on their second set of sprints but she didn’t have the energy to join the group and write tonight. Instead, she closed her computer and standing, left the room, locking the office door. She needed to go see Lucy Johnson tomorrow and see how she was doing. And get ready for the guests' dinner.

Sunday she’d have time to put this case all together and see what she was missing. Maybe she’d go visit Dante and take another look at the murder scene. Maybe there was a clue that Uncle Pete’s guys had missed. And maybe Grace Evans would show up.

She was getting good at this investigating thing. It was all about seeing what shouldn’t be there. Just like some of the computer games she played when she didn’t want to write. She decided to head downstairs and see what Seth was up to. They hadn’t talked much this last week and she knew he was still a little touchy about her helping Dante host the party last weekend.

She went down the stairs and then crossed over to the other wing on the second floor. It had a small laundry room so Shauna didn’t have to go downstairs and back over to the other wing to clean up the guest rooms. And only the three of them knew that the room connected the two wings. You just went through the back door of the laundry room. Seth had designed it that way.

Then she went down the back stairs and knocked at Seth’s back door.

There was no answer. If he was in the living room, he couldn’t hear her knocking. She heard a bark and opened the door to find Sam on the other side, watching her. “Hey buddy, where’s your guy?”

Sam barked again and ran through the hallway toward the kitchen area. Cat followed and no one was in the kitchen, but Sam stood at the door, waiting to go outside. She turned on the outdoor light and let the dog out. Then she went through the apartment, looking for Seth. She found him in the living room, asleep on his recliner. A basketball game was playing on the television. Probably the same game her uncle had been watching when she called. Cat turned the television off, using the remote.

Seth sat up. “I was watching that.”

“Through your eyelids?” Her mom used to ask her dad that all the time when she found him sleeping in the living room, the television blaring.

He stretched and then stood up. She could see his knee was still bothering him, but she didn’t ask how bad it was. He didn’t like to talk about it. “Where’s Sam?”

“Outside. I came down the back stairs and he met me at the door. I’ll go let him inside.”

She started that way when he asked, “Did you eat?”

“I had a little something with Shauna earlier. Have you?”

He shook his head. “She sent me a casserole, but I put it in the oven and forgot it. It might be burned to a crisp by now.”

“I didn’t smell it,” she hurried into the kitchen and stopped at the oven. The timer still had a few minutes. She opened the oven door and checked the casserole. From the smell, it was close to being done.

“Yum. Do you want to stay? Or are the guests expecting you back?” He stood behind her, looking over her shoulder at the bubbling cheese casserole in the oven.

“I’m off for the night. Remember you have to be the designated driver tomorrow night.” She closed the oven and then went over to the door and let Sam inside. “And I’m still hungry.”

“Great. I’ve been missing you,” he went over and got two plates out of the cupboard setting the table as they talked. “I made a salad if you want to grab it. And a couple of sodas?”

She helped him get the table ready while Sam sat in the corner watching them. Then Seth opened a can of dog food and put it in his dish. “Sam eats the same time I do when I’m on my own. That way I have someone to talk to during dinner.”

The buzzer went off and she took the casserole out, setting it on a large hot pad in the middle of the table. She put a spoon in it and sat down, putting a napkin on her lap. “Well, tonight, you have someone here who can talk back and hold up her end of the conversation. We should do this more often. Eat together.”

“Shauna would get lonely.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her close for a kiss. “Besides, Sam talks back. Sometimes.”

She leaned back after the kiss and grinned at him. “If it means we always start dinner like that, Shauna can find her own boyfriend to eat dinner with.”