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THREE

Sebrena had a hand on her hip while the other arm held a stack of books. She stared at Kieran with an incredulous look as he told her what had happened to her client. Maybe she was in shock, but the narrowing of her eyes suggested she was angry.

“What are you talking about? I spoke to him last night. I don’t know what you people are playing at, but I’m not fond of games.”

Kieran crossed his arms and stared right back. “Mr. Brandt is dead, I assure you.”

She frowned and set the books on the table. “Dead?” She blinked as if she’d heard the word for the first time. “I don’t understand.” She stumbled around the table and sat down hard in the chair.

I pretended to straighten books on a shelf close enough to hear what was being said, but not so close that Kieran would think I was being nosy.

Lizzie was at the register, helping clear the long line there, but she tapped a finger below her ear to ask if I might be listening.

I nodded.

“Ms. Walker, you said the last time you spoke to him was last night?” Kieran asked Sebrena.

“Uh, yes, last night. He called to see if I could find somewhere else for him to stay. He wasn’t happy with the cottage they put him in, but everywhere was booked up. I’d offered to switch so he could stay in the B&B where I’m set up, but he said he needed more space.”

“And did you speak to him today?”

“I texted his schedule to him this morning, and we were supposed to meet here for the signing and then to have dinner this evening. His publisher offered a new contract, and we needed to talk about it—he’s really gone?” She shook her head as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d been told.

“Aye, he is. And did he answer your text this morning?”

She sighed. “Let me check.” She rifled through her enormous tote bag and pulled out her phone.

“No, but that isn’t unusual. He wasn’t much of a texter. He was old-fashioned that way. I cannot believe he’s gone. How did he die?”

“We’re investigating,” he said.

“Wait. Investigating. You think someone killed him?” Her eyes went wide. “He was not always the easiest man to get along with, but no one had any reason to murder him. He was quite beloved by his fans.”

At least, by the ones who hadn’t met him . Okay, that was mean. But I couldn’t imagine anyone getting along with the angry man.

Kieran cleared his throat. “No one said anything about murder. It looks to be an accident, but I must follow up.”

“Oh,” she said. “Good. Though, if he were murdered, it might sell more books.”

I can’t believe she said that out loud .

Kieran’s eyebrows popped up.

As if realizing how it sounded, she waved a hand. “I only meant because he wrote thrillers. Even though he’s gone, he does have an estate. As his agent, ensuring his books sell is still my job.”

Wow . Again, I couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud. She was as mercenary as they came. While she appeared shocked, she didn’t necessarily act upset by the news. That made me suspicious.

If he has been murdered, she’s at the top of my list .

“Right. Back to your dinner. Was the contract going to be good news or bad?”

“Well, good in a way,” she said. “His last book didn’t do as well as his others, so they were making the same sort of offer as the last one. He wouldn’t have been happy that his advance didn’t go up, but I managed to get some tours, and things worked into his contract to make up for that.”

“Did he know his book hadn’t done as well?”

I’d wondered about that.

She pursed her lips. “I—uh. No. I handle the business side of things. I didn’t bother him with numbers or anything that might hinder his creativity. To be honest, he didn’t want to know. As long as he received healthy advances and royalty checks, and he did, he didn’t care.”

Writing was a creative process, but I couldn’t imagine not knowing the business side of things with my work. I’d kill Miranda, my agent, if she kept something like that from me.

“While we are making inquiries, I must ask if there was anyone who might want to cause him harm?”

She glanced up at me and glared.

Kieran followed her line of sight.

Oops. They caught me .

“Only other authors in the industry who might have been jealous of his success. Like I said, his fans adored him.”

Kieran shook his head as he stared at me. “What about anyone from his past?”

She glanced down at her hands. “I’m afraid I couldn’t say. I’ve been his agent for fifteen years, but we weren’t that personally close the last few years. Like I said, I took care of the business side for him.”

“Wait, you said the last few years. So, did you have a personal relationship with him before that?” Kieran had picked up on that as well. Good for him. I was curious about the answer.

“We were together for several years at the beginning of his writing career. But for the last ten or so it’s only been a professional relationship. He was no longer interested in a personal relationship.” She appeared embarrassed by this admission.

After they broke up, why had she stuck with him?

Money . Her commissions had to be more than decent. From her answers to Kieran’s questions, it appeared that was what she cared most about.

“Did he have any family we should notify?”

She shook her head. “No. His parents died years ago. He quite often said he was an orphan and happy to be so.”

That sounded like him.

“Right. I’ll need you to stay in town until we finish our inquiries.”

“No,” she said.

“No?” Kieran’s head snapped back as if she’d slapped him. It was almost comical.

“I’ll need to head back to Dublin to make arrangements for his wake and memorial. I’ll need to speak to his lawyer to find out what his last wishes might have been. Who else is there to do that?”

“Our inquiries shouldn’t be more than a few days,” he said. “I’m certain you can handle the necessary details from here until we are done.”

She threw up her hands. “I do not understand why. The last thing I want is to be stuck here in this town.”

“As I said, it’s only until we complete our inquiries—a few days at most.” His tone pretty much told her all she needed to hear. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Her jaw set hard. “Fine.”

He took down her information.

As she was leaving, she went to the counter. She motioned to Lizzie, and I moved closer.

“After what has happened, if your store returns a single one of James’s books I’ll make certain no author ever comes to sign here again.” With that, she left.

“Great,” Lizzie said. “Nothing like a threat to make the day brighter. We have over two hundred books for the signing, which isn’t happening. I mean, it isn’t his fault, but people won’t be as eager to buy if they aren’t autographed.”

I shrugged. “Maybe they will be once it comes out that he’s dead.”

“Oh, that is all kinds of wrong,” she said.

“I have to agree,” Kieran said behind me.

“Better than Lizzie taking a loss because of James’s accident,” I said. “Thriller and mystery readers are a special breed when it comes to death. They may want his new book before it sells out. Plus, I’m not sure Sebrena has the power to cause trouble like that. I wouldn’t worry about it, Lizzie.”

There was definitely something nefarious about all of this, and I didn’t like the fact that people might think my sister, or I, had something to do with it. Something didn’t add up, and I needed to know the truth.

But was his death an accident? The blue tinge of his lips made me wonder. I couldn’t seem to get the image out of my head.

That night, after the last author reading at the library, we’d been invited to Scott and Rob’s house for dinner. Rob was a chef and was always trying out new recipes on us. They were as loving and caring as two friends could be, and we were incredibly lucky to be neighbors.

Rob had made Italian food tonight. He was a global chef, who pulled from his travels around the world for his inspiration. He was working on a cookbook, and we were the beneficiaries of his practicing each one to perfection.

Like always, the food was scrumptious. My sister was a wonderful cook, whereas I barely knew how to turn the stove top on to boil water.

Even Lizzie admitted Rob was on a whole different level when it came to cooking. We’d never been fed anything by him that we didn’t absolutely love.

“Save room for cannolis,” he said.

“Rob told me that the author who was mean to you yesterday during that panel died and that you guys were the ones who found him,” Scott said.

Lizzie looked at me, and I shrugged.

I cleared my throat. “It’s an ongoing investigation and we promised Kieran we wouldn’t talk about it,” I said.

“We also heard you guys killed him.” Rob laughed. So, we knew he didn’t take the rumors seriously.

“Not again,” Lizzie groaned. She put her head in her hands. “If those kinds of rumors are going around, it will be terrible for the business. Not that it matters. A man has died. But we had nothing to do with it. Other than we found him.”

It wasn’t the first time people in the village had gossiped about us. There had been some murders on the court shortly after our arrival in Shamrock Cove. I did everything to prove our innocence, but it hadn’t been easy. The killer had almost murdered me and Kieran.

“To be sure we know you didn’t do it,” Scott said. “We’re just kidding.”

“You have to swear you won’t say anything,” I said.

They made the sign of the cross.

“I’m only sharing so that you can set the rumors straight when you hear people talking about us. We found him crushed under a bookcase,” I said. “And we have no idea how it happened. It could have been a terrible accident.”

“There’s something in your eyes.” Rob pointed at me. “You don’t think it was an accident.” He already knew me too well.

I shrugged again. “We won’t know until the coroner or medical examiner writes a report.”

“Can you tell us more?”

Lizzie looked at me and shook her head, but these were our friends. The same ones who had looked out for us since we arrived.

“Swear again you won’t say anything? This is not to be shared with anyone else.”

They made the sign again and nodded.

“You saw how he acted yesterday. He wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, and it looked like someone else had been in the house with him before he died.”

I stopped before I gave them any details about the manuscripts or cups and saucers.

Their eyes grew large.

“So, murder?” Scott asked.

“There’s no way to know,” Lizzie said. “You’ve met my sister, the mystery writer. She’s good at making up stories.”

“Ouch,” I said as her comment stung. Though, she was just trying to save me from Kieran’s wrath if he found out we’d been sharing details. While I didn’t care about myself, I wouldn’t have people gossiping about my sweet sister. She didn’t deserve that.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Lizzie patted my hand. “It’s just that you tend to think the worst of situations. The cottage is old, and perhaps the bookcase wasn’t secured properly. There were a lot of heavy-looking books on it.”

I pursed my lips. “True. But you have to admit he wasn’t nice.”

“There is that,” Lizzie said. “Still. It is quite a reach to think he was murdered because he was so rude.”

“The whole town is talking about him, so they are,” Rob said. “When I was at the market this afternoon there were all kinds of rumors flying. Everything from that old cottage being haunted to he used to be a spy, and perhaps he’d been killed because of it.”

I snorted. “A spy?”

Scott shrugged. “He did write complicated spy thrillers. A lot of those guys who write them tend to have been spies in real life.”

“Those are just rumor,” I said. “Most of those writers never actually admitted to being spies.”

“Ian Fleming was,” Scott said.

“True,” I admitted.

“And I just watched The Pigeon Tunnel about John le Carré,” Scott said. “There is a chance Brandt could have been a spy as well.”

“You got me there. But just know that everyone who writes spy thrillers didn’t necessarily come from that world. I don’t know a lot about Brandt, but he would have bragged about that fact if it were true.”

At least, maybe he would have. But then again, perhaps he had secrets. I couldn’t stop thinking about the manuscripts on the table, one of which had no title or author. My brain went into overdrive.

Someone like James Brandt would have a title page on his work with his name on it. So, who did that manuscript belong to? I wished I could have taken a look at it.

“But we can’t know for certain,” Lizzie said. “Spies don’t always admit what they once were.”

I gave her a look.

“Well, it’s true,” she said. “It’s certainly a better story than people thinking we killed him. Rob and Scott, feel free to spread that rumor instead.”

They laughed.

“Consider it done,” Rob said. “But you two will keep us informed as to what is really going on?”

“As much as we can without me getting in trouble with Kieran,” I said. “Until we know exactly what happened, it isn’t worth worrying about.”

“There is something you aren’t telling us,” Scott said. “Something you found at the scene. You have that look in your eyes where your brain is working overtime.”

“How do you know her so well, already?” Lizzie said.

We laughed.

“I promise that when it’s okay with the good detective inspector to share, I will.”

“I keep forgetting he got a promotion,” Rob said.

“Have you thought any more about using Kieran as the lead for a new series?”

I’d had too much tequila one night and had admitted that I thought Kieran would make a fascinating lead. He’d worked with several different law agencies before settling down in the small town. I’d learned some things about his past. Enough to know he was well-respected among his colleagues.

Though, other than saying he needed a quieter life, he’d never told me the truth about why he’d moved home to Shamrock Cove.

“It’s still rolling around in my brain.” I pointed to my head. “But if you two ever tell him I said that, I will never forgive you.”

They held up their hands in surrender. “What is said during tequila shots night, stays at tequila shots night.”

This time we all laughed.

A few hours later, we headed home.

“The guys weren’t wrong, you have been distracted all night,” Lizzie said as we made our way down the path to our home.

“Something about the anonymous manuscript bothers me. Was he trying to use someone’s work as his own? Or was he looking it over, and maybe the author didn’t like what he had to say? We know how caustic he could be.”

“True,” Lizzie said. “But maybe he found the manuscript in the cottage and was reading it.”

I nodded. “I wish I’d taken a better look.”

“Maybe, if you’re nice to Kieran, he’ll let you look at it,” she said. “Our favorite detective does seem to be sweet on you.”

I laughed. “He thinks I’m too annoying for anything like that ever to happen,” I said. Yes, we’d become friends, but we butted heads more often than not.

“And yet, he manages to make an excuse to come to the house a few times a week,” Lizzie said. She smiled.

I waved a hand. “That’s because you’re always inviting him over and giving him coffee and baked goods. Maybe you’re the one who is sweet on him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh. No. We aren’t going down that road any time soon. Besides, I’m usually left out while you two discuss different cases you’ve encountered.

“You should go to the station in the morning and talk to him,” she said. “I bet he wouldn’t mind some help.”

Mr. Poe, who had been walking in front of us, yipped in agreement.

I gave a noncommittal shrug. She was right about the detective. When we’d first arrived, he wasn’t happy about our interference in his case, but lately, he’d been more open about the ones he’d been working on and sometimes asked for my take.

But I had a feeling this was different. Lizzie and I were considered suspects because we’d found the body.

Still, it was worth a try.

I needed to see that manuscript. And I wanted to view the results of his tox screen.

My gut screamed that the cranky author had been poisoned.