Murder by Page One by Olivia Matthews (read aloud txt) 📗

“But then she suddenly stopped attending our critique sessions.” Dolly looked to Tammy as though seeking confirmation.

I frowned. “Do you know why?”

Dolly flipped her hands. “When we asked her about it, she said things had gotten really busy at work. She had an accounting firm with Nolan Duggan.”

“But we thought maybe she had writer’s block.” Tammy used her books to gesture between her and Dolly. “So we tried to talk with her about it and encourage her writing. You can see how talented she is.”

“Yes, her book is hard to put down.” I nodded, hoping Tammy and Dolly would keep their confidences coming.

Dolly tapped the other woman’s forearm. “But remember, we did notice Fiona stopped coming to our critique group right around the time Zelda started attending again.”

I heard again Floyd’s suspicion over the timing of Fiona’s audit and Zelda leaving her job. Had that happened before or after the women had found themselves attending the same critique meetings? Awkward. I made a mental note to follow up with Zelda.

“That’s right.” Tammy’s eyes widened. “We’d wondered if it was a coincidence or if it was deliberate.”

Dolly shrugged. “We thought Fiona may have stopped coming because she and Zelda couldn’t stand each other, although they’re both on the board.”

A cloud passed over their faces at almost the same moment. It seemed they were both remembering Fiona wasn’t on the board anymore. Perhaps Fiona’s death had affected them more than they’d thought. I gave them a moment to gather themselves.

Dolly looked around as though confirming we were alone. Still, she lowered her voice. “Zelda isn’t nearly as talented as Fiona.”

Tammy nodded in silent agreement, then adjusted her glasses. “Fiona was a natural writer. Zelda…she has to work a bit harder. Just look—Fiona was published less than two years after joining our group. Zelda has been trying to get published for almost a decade.”

I took a moment to digest that. What made Fiona switch from writing contemporary love stories to mainstream mysteries? “How long had Fiona been writing mysteries?”

Tammy shrugged, exchanging a look with Dolly, who also seemed at a loss. “She must’ve switched after she left the critique group. We had no idea she was even thinking of switching genres.”

“But it was right around the time Buddy Hayes died.” Dolly’s sigh was long and sad. “Well, I can understand how you might not be in the mood to write romance if you lose the love of your life.”

Tammy hugged her books a little tighter. “And considering Fiona was always preaching about writing what you know, it seemed fitting she’d switch genres.”

Dolly scanned our surroundings. “That’s right. She turned around and wrote a story so similar to the rumors Ms. Betty started, implying Fiona was somehow responsible for Buddy Hayes’s death.” She rolled her eyes. “As though anybody believed that.”

Tammy brushed her hair from her forehead again as she hummed her agreement. “Nobody believed those rumors but Betty and her clique. But it sure does make for a good story.”

Dolly giggled. “And it’s a great way to get back at Ms. Betty for planting those rumors all over town.”

“Did Zelda or Fiona ever confide why they didn’t like each other?” I didn’t bring up Floyd’s suspicions. I didn’t want to share what I thought; I wanted to know what they thought.

The two women exchanged a look and a shrug before Dolly turned back to me. “Jealousy, maybe? Fiona was a much better writer than Zelda.”

“But the tension didn’t really start until after Zelda quit her job,” Tammy offered. “She and Fiona were both accountants. Maybe Zelda was jealous of Fiona’s success with her firm.”

“Other than that, we really don’t have any ideas.”

Tammy nodded in silent agreement, dislodging the swatch of hair she’d tucked behind her ear. Her eyes stretched wide at the scandal. “If the deputies weren’t looking into Jo Gomez for Fiona’s murder, my money would be on Zelda being the one who killed Fiona.”

“Mine too.” Dolly lifted her pale thin eyebrows. “Zelda couldn’t stand Fiona.”

I glanced at my watch. “I should get back to work. Ladies, I’m very sorry for your loss.” I turned to make my way back to my office.

Tammy had said Zelda might’ve been jealous of Fiona’s accounting practice. That didn’t seem like a strong enough motive for murder. On the other hand, Floyd might be onto something with his theory of a connection between Fiona’s audit and Zelda leaving her job with the bank.

Question: How do you ask a person if they killed someone for getting them fired?

There was a snake. On the driver’s seat of my car.

And it was moving.

My heart stopped. My mind blanked. My muscles froze, cementing me to the asphalt parking lot outside of the library Thursday evening. The box of files I’d carried from my office and had intended to deposit on the backseat of my blue compact sedan dropped from my numbed fingers. It created a loud splatting noise that snapped me out of a terrified trance.

My heart galloped. My mind rushed to recall everything I’d read about snakes in coastal Georgia. No sudden or threatening movements. If you didn’t bother the snake, the snake wouldn’t bother you.

What if the snake was in your car? I think that counted as “bothering you.”

How had it gotten into my car?

And how was I going to get it out?

With three slow and unsteady steps, I backed away. I was in an agony of fear with each step. Determining I was out of the snake’s line of sight, I spun and sprinted back to the library. My tote bag slid down my arm to hook at my right elbow. My handbag bounced against my left hip. My pulse and pumps pounded in my ears.

At the entrance, I rocked back on my heels. Our patrons couldn’t see me so frazzled and afraid. I might cause a panic. I stepped to the side of the door and drew several deep breaths. The evening air was warm and salty from the nearby wetlands as it