Murdered by Words: Midwest Cozy Mystery Series Read online

  She was so deeply engrossed in the menu she didn’t see Bev come in the restaurant. She felt a tap on her shoulder and heard Bev say, “That new menu makes for good reading, but from what I’m hearing, what you write is even better." She took a seat across the table from Kat.

  “It’s been a long time since I've been here, and I can see that the new chef has made a lot of changes to the menu. It looks great, but wait, what were you saying about me writing?”

  “Tell you in a minute. If you’re ready to order I already know what I want. I probably should experiment, but I think the chef does something magical with the seafood salad. It has all the crab and shrimp in it that you’d ever want rather than the piddly two pieces of each that the other restaurants seem to always put on their salads. What sounds good to you?”

  “I’ve got to try his version of meatloaf. I know it’s a common dish, but from what I saw being served at the table next to us, it looks like the chef has taken it to a new level. I mean, who thinks to serve a brown gravy over meatloaf on spinach with swirled mashed potatoes on top of it and garnished with asparagus tips? Definitely can’t get past that.” They gave their orders to the waiter who filled their glasses with Perrier water.

  “Kat, I’m so glad you're back among the living. First of all, you attended the golf dinner last night with our handsome new district attorney. Second of all, you’re meeting me here for lunch. We haven’t done this for way too long. Thirdly, even though I consider you one of my closest friends, I didn’t know you were Sexy Cissy and wrote steamy hot novels.”

  Kat was biting into a carrot from the relish plate the waiter had brought. She stopped halfway through the bite and said, “What are you talking about? Who told you such things?”

  “I’d say a little birdie, but I know you wouldn’t believe me, so I’ll be honest. I’ll get to it in a minute. You know what a golf nut Jim is, and there is no way he’d turn down a chance to meet the winner of the Master's. We were at the dinner last night on the other side of the room from you. From what I could see, it looked like you and Blaine were thoroughly enjoying each other. Would that be correct?”

  “I can’t speak for him, but yes, I had a wonderful time. I think he must have enjoyed it too, because he asked me to go with him to the joint tennis and golf dinner dance weekend after next. I know he’s the new district attorney, but I really don’t know much about him. I thought I knew pretty much everyone in town and what with someone who’s that much in the public eye, I’m surprised I’ve never met him before.”

  “I’ve known him for a long time. As a matter of fact, I thought of introducing you to him, but you were adamant you weren’t ready to meet anyone. Let’s see. He’s fifty-two. He a scratch golfer and plays all the time with Jim. That's how I know him so well. He often plays nine holes in the morning before he goes to work, weather permitting.”

  She continued. “He’s never been married. He was going to get married years ago, but a terrible tragedy intervened. When he was in his early thirties he fell in love with a woman from western Kansas. Her family farmed wheat, was very wealthy, and they had their own private plane. A week before she and Blaine were to be married she was flying to Kansas City for the final fitting of her wedding dress. Her father was flying the plane, and there was some malfunction with the gas in the plane. It exploded, and she and her father were both killed in the explosion. I didn’t know Blaine then. He was living in Kansas City at that time. After the plane crash he moved to Lindsay and joined a friend from law school in his law practice."

  “That’s so sad. Poor man,” Kat said.

  “Yes. Jim told me he buried himself in his work for years, and the only two things he liked to do were play golf and involve himself in local Republican politics. That’s one of the reasons he won the election. He’s built up quite a large political network that helped him. Guess it was kind of payback time for all of the elections he’d worked on over the years, plus he's got a reputation for being a large donor to people who are running for office the first time.”

  “That certainly explains why I never met him. I don’t know much about politics. It never interested me, but I suppose if I'm going to see him again, I probably should get up to speed on what’s happening in the local political arena.”

  “Yes, you definitely should. By the way, Jim thinks the world of him, and so do I. I already told you how glad I am you’ve decided to join the land of the living again, but what I really want to get to is the third thing I mentioned, Sexy Cissy. When did you start writing those books? By the way, I looked Sexy Cissy up on Amazon and there’s no photograph, so I was sure you were using a pen name. Actually, I bought a couple of the books on Kindle, and I’m about half-way through my first one. It’s well-written, although I don’t think I'd want my daughter to read it. From what I’ve read so far, there’s a side to you I’ve obviously never seen,” she said laughing.

  “Bev, what makes you think it’s me, and where did you hear about it?”

  “I was in Susie’s Salon yesterday, and I overheard a conversation Susie was having with Sally Lonsdale about you, your book, and your editor, Nancy. I pretended I was reading an article in one of the magazines, but truth be told, I eavesdropped on every word. Sally was pretty worked up about it. Once I heard her talking about chastity belts, and how every young woman should have to wear one until they were married. I thought she was kidding, but she wasn’t. She’s always talking about how certain books should be banned from being on the shelf at the library. I mean she thinks Gone With The Wind is the work of the devil. She sounded angry enough to do away with you, your book, and your editor.”

  Kat shivered. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone be that angry with me. I don’t like it. I've met her several times, but she wasn’t someone I wanted much to do with. She seems pretty unbalanced to me.

  “I believe that would be a perfect description of her. I see the waiter bringing our orders now. While we’re eating, I want to hear all about your literary career, and I’m sure Sally would say that was the wrong term to use when referring to your books.”

  Kat took several bites of her meatloaf and said, “This is one of the best things I've ever had. You know how I love to cook, and if I ever have Blaine over for dinner, I’d love to experiment with this dish and serve it to him. Seems like a lot of work for just me eating alone.”

  “I didn’t ask you about your food, I asked you about your literary career. Shoot.”

  Kat put her fork down and said, “Well, I guess I might as well tell you about it. I was hoping it wouldn't become public for a number of reasons, and from what I’ve heard today, I think I was right. After Greg died, I didn't know what to do with myself. I’d been a reader, and like you, my major in college was English Literature. As you know, Greg and I met in college in an English class. After he went on to become the head of the English Literature Department at the university, our life pretty much consisted of being around writers and want-to-be writers.”

  “You still haven’t told me how you started writing steamy page turners.”

  “One night I was surfing on the web and an ad popped up about how you could get rich by becoming an author. I clicked on it, and it had a bunch of charts about which types of books made the most money. Of course, the site it was on just happened to have courses you could take to write books on about every subject under the sun. What caught my eye was that some of the highest paid authors were those who wrote the steamy page turners, as you call them. I would prefer the term ‘romance,’ but my books probably are a little sexier than some of the romance novels.

  “I knew at some point I was going to have to get a job, and I was really worried about my finances. You know I’ve never worked outside the home, and I figured the only thing available for a fifty-year-old woman with no work history would be an entry level job. I just couldn’t see myself asking someone if they wanted fries with their hamburger, like that song Tim McGraw sang, but I wasn’t sure I had any other options.”

&
nbsp; “Okay, you’ve told me where you got the idea. How did you start? Was it hard to come up with characters and a plot?”

  “Not really. I’ve always had a pretty good imagination. After I read the Internet article I kept thinking that maybe I should give it a try. The rest is pretty much history. I wrote a book and happened to meet Nancy, my editor, about that time. She told me about the man she worked with who could design a cover for the book and format it as an e-book. After that, I put it up for sale on Amazon. The person who did the cover and formatting for me told me I needed to have a social media presence, so I became active on Twitter and Facebook under the name of Sexy Cissy. My books have done phenomenally well, and I’m making a lot of money from them. I'm really having fun with it, because I never considered myself to be very creative, but now my mind is always thinking of new ideas for books.”

  “I think it’s great, and other than a few do-gooders, I imagine everyone else will too. You're really not doing anything all that different from what a lot of other authors do. They just haven’t put their books in a series like you have, plus I imagine a few of the people who may criticize you have had fantasies like the ones you're writing about. How does Lacie feel about it?”

  “She’s still at an age where she’s very concerned about what other people think. She’d rather no one found out, but it looks like it’s too late for that. I will say it’s helping to keep her in nice clothes and paying for her college education, to say nothing of the costs of the sorority. I could have afforded for her to go to college, but I think she would have had to live at home all four years rather than in the sorority house, and I certainly couldn’t have afforded the nice car she drives. I hope she’ll understand that when members of the community, including her friends, find out that I’m Sexy Cissy.”

  “I’m not sure I’d say it quite that way. I think saying that you write under the pen name of Sexy Cissy would be a better idea. I’m curious what Blaine’s going to say. If it was Jim, he’d be thrilled if I wrote books like that. He’d probably be wondering where I got the ideas, and it sure couldn’t hurt the physical part of our relationship.”

  “I’ve never even thought about telling Blaine. I don’t feel like I know him well enough to tell him, but I don’t want him to find out from someone else.”

  “Why don’t you sit with it for couple of days? You don’t need to make that decision right now.” Bev looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go. Reba leaves at 3:00, and I need to pay her for cleaning the house.” She motioned for the waiter to bring them the check. They each put their membership number on the check and signed it. “Talk to you later,” Bev said, blowing a kiss to Kat as she walked away from the table.

  CHAPTER 6

  Kat left the country club parking lot and decided she had just enough time to stop by her house and pick up Jazz on her way to Nancy's home.

  I really hope Nancy’s finished editing The Country Club Cover-Up. I want to read it once more and send it to Dirk, so he can format it. Once that's done, I’ll publish it on Amazon and off it goes. I better clear my schedule for next week, so I can do some marketing and make sure everyone knows that my latest book in the Lusty Women Series has been published. My fans are going to love this one! I mean, what's not to love about Jake, the handsome ex-Green Beret who works at the country club where Chastity and her husband are members. Her husband hires him to fix some fences at their ranch, and he and Chastity end up having a steamy affair.

  She parked on the street in front of Nancy’s two-story brick house, its green shrubbery contrasting nicely with the brick’s red tone. Nancy had decorated it for Christmas with twinkling lights outlining the windows, a huge wreath with a bright red bow on the front door, and a life-size manger scene on the front lawn. It was warm and inviting, just like Nancy’s personality.

  Kat thought back to the first time she'd met Nancy Jennings. It had been at a mother-daughter pledge class tea at the Pi Beta Phi sorority house during Lacie’s first semester in college. They’d both been standing next to the table where an assortment of cookies was spread out. Nancy had leaned over to get a cookie when one of the other mothers accidentally jostled her arm, causing the contents of Nancy’s tote bag to fall to the floor. Kat bent down to help Nancy pick up her things and saw a book with a lot of colored sticky notes attached to many of the pages. She remembered asking Nancy why she'd made so many notations in the book. Nancy had responded that she was an editor who worked out of her home editing books for various different authors. Kat asked if she was taking any new clients, and Nancy had said she was always willing to talk to someone about their work. She gave Kat her business card and asked her to call.

  A few days later Kat called Nancy, and they had a long talk about Kat’s book project. Kat explained to her that she had written her first book, but she wasn't sure what to do with it. When Nancy had asked her what genre she wrote in, Kat had hemmed and hawed. She could still remember how hot her cheeks had become when she told Nancy it was a book about a woman who had a steamy affair with a man who was doing some work at her ranch in Montana. Nancy had been quiet for a long time and then told her that although she’d never edited any books in that genre, she'd be happy to read it and give Kat her opinion of it.

  Nancy had loved the book. They’d come to an agreement that no one would be told that Kat was the author. It was Nancy who had suggested the name for the series, Lusty Women, as well as Kat's pen name, Sexy Cissy. She’d also suggested that Kat hire Dirk, the formatter and cover designer Nancy worked with. He lived in India, and although Kat was sure she'd never meet him, his work was excellent, and his price was fair. Kat discovered early on that her fans were hungry for her books, and she needed to feed them a new book as often as possible. They, in turn, responded by making her one of the best-selling authors on Amazon.

  It had been a mutually advantageous arrangement. The one thing Nancy had made her promise was that Kat would never tell Carl, her husband, about the Lusty Women Series. According to Nancy, Carl didn’t pay much attention to the books she edited, so she didn't expect there would be any problems. She’d told Kat her husband was quite straight-laced and would be shocked and angry to learn she was editing a book that drew a pretty fine line between erotica and romance. Kat had promised her that the only person who would know was Lacie, her daughter, and Lacie didn’t want anyone to find out. She was certain the sorority would take a very dim view of having the mother of one of their members writing books like those in the Lusty Women Series.

  As Kat walked up the steps to the front door of Nancy’s house, she hoped that having to admit to people she wrote under the pen name of Sexy Cissy, and that she was the author of the Lusty Women Series, wouldn't be a problem for Nancy. Evidently Carl already knew based on the threatening remarks he’d made to Kat at the country club. She just hoped Nancy could convince him she was unaffected by what she edited, and she couldn’t be a censor for what other people read. Kat thought maybe she’d have to tell Carl that freedom of speech was part of the Constitution, and it covered not only the spoken word but also words written on paper.

  She knocked on the door and rang the doorbell. There was no answer. Later, Kat would look back on that moment as the last guilt-free moment of her life.

  CHAPTER 7

  When Nancy hadn’t come to the door after several minutes, Kat looked at her watch to make sure she had the right time. It showed it was straight up three in the afternoon, the exact time they were supposed to meet. One of the things that made Nancy such a good editor was her attention to detail. If she told Kat she was going to call her at a certain time, the phone always rang on the given minute.

  Not being home at the agreed upon time was totally unlike Nancy. Kat hadn’t talked to her since they’d made the appointment a few days earlier, and she wondered if Nancy was sick. She tried the door, and it easily opened. Jazz walked into the house a few steps in front of Kat. “Nancy,” she called out, “anyone home?” No one answered. Kat had been to Nancy’s home many ti
mes, and they’d always met in Nancy’s office. Maybe she’s in her office and is so totally caught up in editing and concentrating so hard she didn’t hear me, Kat thought.

  “Nancy, it’s Kat. Are you here?” Again, there was no response, only total silence. She walked down the hall towards the office with Jazz at her side. As they entered the office, Jazz began barking furiously which was completely unusual for her.

  “Jazz, no! Stop barking.” The bark became a low whine and she sat down. “Jazz, come here,” Kat said, but Jazz stayed where she was as if rooted to the spot. Kat walked over to where Jazz was sitting, and she saw Nancy sprawled on the floor in front of a bookcase with what looked like a bullet hole in her chest and blood pooled around her body. Kat stood there for several seconds, refusing to believe what her eyes were seeing.

  Jazz whined again, startling Kat out of her reverie and forcing her to react to the scene in front of her. “Jazz, come,” she screamed as she ran out of the house and got in her car, trying to put the vision of Nancy out of her mind. She panicked, not knowing what to do next. After a moment she reached in her purse to get her phone and call 911. When she opened it she saw Blaine’s business card. Without thinking, she pressed in his numbers on her phone. Her call was answered immediately by him. “Hi Kat, I’m glad you called. I was going to call you later.”

  “Blaine, she’s de, de, dead,” Kat stuttered, her voice shaking with emotion.

  “What are you talking about? Who's dead?"

  “Nancy, my editor, she's dead. She has what looks like a bullet hole in her chest, and there’s blood all around her body.”

  “Where are you, Kat? Can you give me an address? Is anyone with you?”

  “I'm in my car in front of Nancy Jennings’ house. The address is 175 Elm Lane. I’m by myself. No, Jazz, my dog, is with me.”