Chapter 14

Lucy held up her hands in the classic I-give-up stance and burst into tears. "The killer is holding Cartier hostage."

Conrad heaved his heaviest sigh and sheathed his weapon. He strode over and patted her down, not finding anything dangerous. "I'm debating arresting you. I'm not sure what you've done to my crime scene and?—"

"Nothing," she rushed out, her eyes wide and watery. "I did nothing. I came in through the outside. There's another doorway. Back when Aurelian Hills was flush with gold, this building used to be the assay offices where miners brought their findings to be weighed."

Jane nodded. "We've all heard the stories of Ezra Sterling fighting off would-be thieves with his bare hands."

"I think there's even a song." Beau thought for a moment. "We had to learn it for Founder's Day."

Jane cleared her throat.

"Ezra Sterling, strong and bold,

About his bravery, legends are told.

Faced with thieves, he took a stand,

With wit and grit, he became the hero of our land."

Conrad shook his head. "This town is so weird."

Despite her anxiety, Lucy appeared pleased she wouldn't have to explain the basics and could go straight to the scandal. "Well, let's just say Mr. Hero didn"t mind helping himself to a little bit of each man's gold. He stored it down here."

Beau huffed with indignation. "People have been squirreling away gold in this town since the beginning."

Jane suspected the time she had "requested" they dig up a dead body to look for some of that infamous hidden gold at the Garden had scarred him for life.

"You mentioned another doorway." Conrad centered them back on the investigation.

Lucy visibly swallowed, tension radiating from her in waves. "I've since locked it, in case the killer used it to escape. And he must have. Because Cartier was down here before Hannah's murder. When I returned, my baby was gone, a note left in her place. It said I'll be in touch. Respond or else."

Jane's chest squeezed. The panic in the other woman's expression and tone struck a chord deep within her. She'd experienced something similar during a previous murder investigation, when a masked woman had snuck into her home and Rolex went missing. Plus, she knew Lucy. Knew the sweetness in her heart.

Had Jane suspected her of murder not too long ago? Yes. But that was before this. And maybe she could rule out Donnie too? What were the odds someone new to town would know about secret doors? Although, Christopher and his encyclopedia of knowledge might. What if he told those facts to everyone at the fire station?

Maybe Donnie had known.

"Why is there a litter box in the secret room if the cat was kept down here?" Conrad asked.

Lucy sniffled. "Cats wander, and Cartier would sometimes get locked up there. She needed a place to go."

"Everyone stop talking. I need a second." Jane whipped out her phone and found her ex's number. Once, she'd stored his name as—her cheeks heated—Kisstopher. After their breakup, she'd changed it to Craptopher. But she'd since switched it to Christopher.

Jane: Hey, do you know some obscure facts about town history?

A response came within seconds.

Christopher: I do. Is there something you'd like to learn?

Jane: Yes, please. Are there any secret doorways around town?

Christopher: Many. Maggie and Abigail asked the same question a few months ago, so I did some research and put together a map. A few of the guys at the station helped. I have the info stored on a computer at home. As soon as I get back, I'll shoot the file your way. The town is quite a fascinating maze!

Ah ha! Maggie, Abigail, and probably Jacob had known. Jacob could've told his father. And the firemen had assisted. Basically, this pointed to all of Jane's suspects. Christopher's willingness to offer up details exonerated him. Mostly. Because it also added to his potential guilt.

She would share the news with Conrad when they were alone. "All right. Please continue," she said, trying to tamp down her excitement.

Conrad gave her a funny look. "I'm going to ask some questions, and you're going to answer," he told Lucy. "Or we can go to the station and have an attorney present."

"I'll answer your questions here and now." Lucy slowly lowered her arms, then motioned to a small round table with the perfect number of chairs and several stacks of folders. "Please, get comfortable."

"Beau," he said. That was it. Just the war vet's name.

"On it," Beau replied, launching into a slow, thorough search of the room, taking photos with his phone.

Their understanding of each other and what needed to be done was wow.

Lucy, Jane and Conrad sat. Jane noticed the carvings on the table. Oh! One of her ancestors had engraved his name. Silas Ladling. She traced her fingertip over the letters, grounding her thoughts.

"Tell me what happened," Conrad commanded. "Start from the beginning."

"My half-sister was sick. She had an operation but died anyway, and I was lost," Lucy said with a sniffle. "Every action I took, all my thoughts for the last year and a half, centered on getting the money for her surgery." Her voice thickened as she continued. "Now I have no job, no home, and no savings. I mentioned my financial tie to Hannah to Jane, but our connection goes deeper. Before that, I dated one of Hannah's sons. When I reached out, she offered me a lifeline and a top secret place to stay."

"Oh, Lucy," Jane said, giving her friend's hand a pat. Stealing that fifty thousand dollars made so much sense now. And was it really stealing if the murderer brought the money in a briefcase, intending to buy a murderer's silence? "You've been through so much."

"I only arrived two days before the killer struck."

"Well, our number one priority is rescuing Cartier. Right Conrad?" she asked.

"One priority," he echoed.

No wonder Jane had agreed to marry him. Or proposed. Whatever. "I don't think Jacob was the nabber. I didn't notice any cat supplies at his home or hair on his clothing." Didn't mean he hadn't taken the feline, though. He could've kept the sweetie at a remote location. Which meant Cartier needed to be found ASAP. Who was feeding her?

Lucy pulled a stack of those folders closer and rifled through the contents. One by one, she tossed photos and printed papers across the table for Jane and Conrad to examine. The images showed the bank assistant's beautiful calico cat—Rolex's first girlfriend—dirty, with matted fur, locked in a crate.

Horror bombarded Jane. The papers showcased messages from the killer, too. She focused on the worst one.

DO WHAT I SAY OR THE CAT DIES

Beau rapped his knuckles over a section of the wall, stating, "You could've sent that threat to yourself."

He wasn't even at the table. How had he read the note?

"As if she would ever willingly allow Cartier to reach this condition," Jane said at the same time Lucy spat, "How dare you!"

Conrad canted his head. "How were these messages delivered?"

Lucy hiccuped. "I received texts, which I printed out to create a transcript of our interactions for easier reading, but I'll show you the originals too." She reached in her pocket, withdrew her phone, and handed it to Conrad before sliding over a folder with more printouts. "I was told to attend Hannah's memorial and inform Jane about the paperwork Maggie might have. I don't know if it's real or not."

"It is." Maggie had basically confirmed it. Abigail would've known. Christopher and probably Jacob, too.

"The next set of instructions, which I received this morning, directed me to print and mail chapter three of a manuscript titled Grave Actually to Jane. Which I did. I had to go to that office center in Willowbrook to avoid detection."

Wait. "This morning?"

Jane met Conrad's gaze. Jacob had been too dead to make contact with Lucy. Could Abigail or even Maggie herself have the cat? One of the firemen? Mason?

"I made two copies and kept one for myself." The loan officer pushed another folder Conrad's way, but Jane snatched it up. As the writer of the group, she should read it first.

She skimmed paragraphs, her muscles growing stiffer and stiffer. When she got to the last line, she glanced at her beloved, distressed. "You die. In this chapter, the haggard detective dies and clues about the killer's identity are planted at his funeral." Fear punched her. Did the killer plan to strike again? Was the medication that nearly felled Conrad a warning shot?

Tremors plagued her as she handed him the chapter.

"I tried to help you guys as much as I could," Lucy said. "I spied on Maggie, since that's who the killer implicated, which led me to Abigail and Jacob, but other than clocking the three of them together at Maggie's house, I found nothing."

All easily explained by being members of the writing club and co-authors. "What about Christopher Wellington and Donnie Eggerson?"

"I overheard Donnie ask Chris if he wanted to play a video game, which made me think of the game in the killer's manuscript, but other than that, zilch."

As the lawman read the chapter, Jane decided it was time to go back to the beginning.

"Is what you shared about my attacker being tall and lean true, or something you were told to say?" she asked Lucy.

"True. He demanded I lay low, but I decided to take a chance, hoping you'd get further in the investigation than me."

Beau joined them at the table. "No cameras. One hidden doorway, which is the entrance and exit to the outside she mentioned. Soundproof walls."

Conrad nodded, then started reading again. As soon as they received Abigail's laptop from Mason, they could do a comparison of stories and writing styles.

"Do you have any idea who's behind the murders?" Lucy asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Yes and no." Did Jane believe everything the woman had said? She, well, kind of… did. Which either meant she was growing as a person, or she'd lost her edge and wasn't suspicious enough. Hopefully this trust wouldn't come back to bite her a second time. "There must be a way to draw the killer out into the open, protect Conrad and save Cartier. If the original murderer is still alive and playing games." The recently deceased Jacob Thacker remained uncrossed off her list.

An idea peeked from the mire of her thoughts, swirling inside her head, and her jaw slackened. Oh, wow. It was an amazing, wild, dangerous, magnificent plan. A mouse trap with a smorgasbord of cheese. But she would need the cooperation of all her friends. If anything went wrong…

Jane nibbled on her bottom lip. There'd be trouble. But. If everything went right…

"What?" Conrad asked, as if he'd caught the barest hint of her idea.

"Yeah. What are you thinking?" Beau demanded. "Because you're wearing your evil villain face again."

Lucy nodded her agreement, her eyes wide. "I'm kind of terrified of you right now."

Jane looked between her friends, her determination solidifying. Yes, they were gonna do this. "If we want to catch the killer, Lucy has to die."

* * *

Lucy Chang, beloved daughter, sister and cat mother.

Please join us for a celebration of life on April 6th at 2:30 in the afternoon at Garden of Memories, Aurelian Hills, Georgia.

Jane donned her favorite funeral attire, a calf-length black mourning dress with a high, boxy neckline and graceful skirt. A black sash of silk cinched her waist. She plopped a wide-brimmed hat on top of her hair, adjusting the netting to just below her brows while peering at a full-length mirror in her bedroom at Garden of Memories.

The day had come to lay Lucy Chang to rest. Her precious friend, gone far too soon. Murdered in the Treasure Room by either the original killer or a copycat. No one really knew, the entire case in shambles. Blah, blah. Jane sniffled and dabbed at her eyes.

"I almost believe you're in mourning, sweetheart," Conrad said from his post on the bed, with Cheddar the Cheese Man curled up beside him. Rolex enjoyed his cat hammock by the window, surveying all the activity taking place around him.

Wearing a perfectly pressed suit, her fiancé stretched across her lilac patchwork quilt, completely at ease amongst her discarded hats. "Also, you are the most beautiful woman ever born."

"Thank you." The corners of her lips lifted, and she stomped her foot. "But you're ruining my somber demeanor, and I'm minutes away from presiding over Lucy's memorial."

Since her friend's "death" three days ago, Jane's plan had gone off without a hitch. Honestly, the hardest part was convincing Conrad to announce another murder in a town decidedly skittish from the rash of previous murders.

Somehow, Trick had swiftly arranged for a fake coroner to wheel Lucy out of the Treasure Room under the guise of transporting her body to a morgue. Christopher must have seen all the hubbub before he got home from the store or heard about it online, because he never sent the promised map. Only a note of condolence.

Conrad had officially questioned him and the other two firefighters who'd been at the grocery store the day of Hannah's murder, but they'd claimed to have stuck together the entire time, no one wandering off for an extended period, which knocked them out of the running for good.

Holden had been guarding Lucy inside a safe house ever since. All the while, Jane did her best to epitomize the grieving friend.

Propped against the pillows, Conrad reviewed the manuscript Mason had finally turned over to AHPD, written by Abigail. Jane had tried to read Abigail's work, she really had, but four chapters in she'd had to admit defeat and render a DNF grade, two thumbs down, zero stars, pure drivel. But different drivel than Grave Actually. Deputies had yet to find anything actually written by Jacob alone.

"The voice for this story doesn't match the chapters left by the killer, or the co-written manuscript Christopher turned in," Conrad observed.

"Well, Grave Actually is so poorly written, it could be part of the game rather than a serious work. We'll find out."

Soon they would get copies of Maggie's individual work. The warrant had come in. Her electronics were seized, but so far nothing had been found. Which made no sense. Didn't authors keep backups of their backups? Jane certainly did.

She hadn't ruled out Jacob as Hannah's killer. But. Jacob had been killed by the same method as Hannah–blunt force trauma. Abigail and Maggie hadn't swung the murder weapon at Hannah, so Jane wasn't sure they'd had the chops to use the wrench on Jacob, despite Abigail's presence in the home earlier that morning. And who held Cartier hostage? What if the entire book club had worked together to pull all this off? Or the firemen? Not out of the running, after all.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand next to Conrad. "Who messaged?" Jane asked.

He reached to pick up the device, only to pause a moment to lightly stroke a green leaf on his potted plant. One of three she'd gifted him with. One for the bungalow, the Garden, and his office. She would never forget the way he'd looked at her. As if she'd given him the world's greatest treasure.

"It's Lucy," he said. "She wants to know why it feels like we're losing."

"Tell her–oh, never mind. I will." Jane closed the distance and perched beside her soon-to-be husband. She muttered what she typed, "We want the killer (or killers) to think they've won. Just hold on for a few more hours and it will be all over." Send.

Conrad, or rather, the AHPD, had filed zero formal charges against any suspects. There wasn't court approved evidence. Never mind the brilliance of Jane's suppositions. Even the array of "coincidences" and connections weren't enough to move forward.

Still talking while she typed to Lucy, Jane said, "As grandiose as Abigail is, and as desperate as she and Maggie must be to gather information for their stories, they won't be able to stop themselves from attending. Plus, if there's now a copycat killer in the mix, thanks to us, they'll want to scope everyone for clues. It's science." Send.

Jane put her phone away. This memorial would give her the chance to watch every person involved, all together, all at once, so, the case was as good as solved.

"This will work," she told Conrad, in case he didn't know. She laced her fingers with his. The fact that this might be their only chance for success, well, she didn't let the pressure get to her. "The girls and their other partner or partners, if they have more than one, and they probably do, will make a move to advance the game, and we'll catch them in the act."

Tone gruff, he told her, "And you'll play it safe the entire time. Promise me."

"From the bottom of my heart."

Rolex stretched and yawned, hopped from his hammock to the bed to bat at Conrad, demanding pets. Of course, the little darling quickly remembered what a fierce, independent warrior he was, hissed at the lawman, and jumped off the duvet. Cheddar napped through it all.

Conrad sat up and shifted his legs over the side of the mattress. He slid his feet into his loafers. "If anything happens to you?—"

"It won't," she rushed to assure him. She would've thrown herself against his back and given him a hug and a kiss, but a knock sounded at the door. "Come in."

Hinges squeaked as the entrance opened. Fiona entered, a vision in navy blue, gloves and hat. Her expression softened as soon as she spotted Jane. "Oh, my darling girl. You are wow!" She pressed a hand over her heart and slid her gaze to Conrad. "You look pretty wow too."

"He does, doesn't he?" Jane had picked the clothes herself and for once, he'd acquiesced.

"I do," Conrad confirmed with a wink.

Fiona clicked her tongue at them. "I came to tell you we're ready. The finger foods need to be carted to the reflection center. Every dish you requested is there. Mini-quiches, pinwheels, chicken skewers, cucumber sandwiches, southern ambrosia salad, deviled eggs with brisket, and three different kinds of cheese straws. There's currently five gallons of sweet tea, which will become six as soon as we fix the jug of unsweet June purchased. Don't worry. She'll learn. Guests are expected within the hour."

Jane's heart picked up speed. She hadn't hosted a celebration of life in years. "Beau finished installing all the hidden cameras in the areas previously unwatched?" Such as the cottage and the Valley of the Dolls.

"He did."

"And Trick and Isaac are in place?" Hidden in the mausoleum, watching camera feed. Holden remained with Lucy. How were the pair getting along?

"They are."

Perspiration dampened Jane's palms. "Okay then." The killer(s) had wanted to play a game, so, they would play. And this had better work. No other option was acceptable. "To the reflection center we go."