“Is there anyone else?” Sam asked. “Someone from your past, from when you still lived here in River Heights maybe?”
Esme thought, her eyes closed. “I just can’t think of anyone,” she said.
Suddenly Nancy had a thought. “What if we read through Telling All?” she suggested. “If the harasser is someone from your past, we might find something in the book.”
Esme nodded in agreement. “That’s an excellent idea. Obviously, I don’t have a perspective anymore on what’s going on. My publisher sent me two copies after the manuscript was stolen. I’ll get you one.” Esme got up, went into the bedroom, and came out with a manuscript. “Needless to say, this is confidential.”
“We’ll keep it to ourselves,” Sam said, taking the manuscript from Esme. “Let’s hope your hunch is right, Nan, and we find our harasser somewhere in these pages.”
After leaving Esme, Nancy and Sam stopped to pick up lunch. “We’ll need a comfortable spot to read through Esme’s book,” Sam said as they were pulling out of a fast-food drive-through. “I don’t feel like staying in the office all day. How about my place?”
Nancy took a long sip of the soda in her lap. “Sure,” she said, trying not to act nervous.
Quit it, Drew, Nancy thought. He doesn’t have anything in mind besides reading Esme’s book and cracking this case.
Nancy couldn’t relax. She remembered the huge bouquet from Ned. Yet here she was, driving through River Heights on a sunny February day—Valentine’s Day—thinking about what Sam had planned for them when they got comfortable in his apartment. What was she doing? Nancy resolved that this thing with Sam had gotten out of hand. She was thinking about him too much. As soon as she got home, she’d try calling Ned again, tell him how much she missed him, make a plan to visit.
Sam’s apartment was located in a quiet, residential area just west of downtown. He parked in front of a one-story, yellow-and-white cottage and quickly strode up the walk. Nancy followed him inside, where she found a cozy, one-bedroom apartment with hardwood floors and lots of light.
“Come on back,” Sam called out.
In the kitchen, Sam was laying out their lunch on a scarred antique table. It was almost two, and Nancy realized she was starving. Esme’s manuscript lay off to the side. Beyond the kitchen was a comfortable sun-room that looked out onto a small backyard. The room had a couch, several armchairs, and a stereo system.
“Nice place,” she said, sitting down at the table and digging into her burger and fries. She and Sam ate in silence. When they were done, Sam cleared away the wrappers and headed for the sun-room, Esme’s manuscript in hand.
“Why don’t you take the first half, and I’ll take the second,” said Nancy.
Sam joined her on the couch, stretching his legs onto the coffee table. “I can see you like to be the boss,” he said, handing over a thick sheaf of manuscript pages. “Let’s race.”
Nancy nestled back into a corner of the sofa and plunged into Esme’s autobiography. Within a minute she was deeply involved in the story of how Esme had come to write her novel before Passion, and the experiences leading up to it. Apparently, Esme had been on a cruise, sailing around the world, and each night the captain of her boat told the guests of his adventures in China, the South Seas, Hawaii, and the Philippines. After the cruise ended, Esme stayed on board, sailing around the world once again to hear more of the captain’s stories. These adventures became the basis of Island Desires, Esme’s third novel to hit the best-seller list, and the one that made her name a household world.
“Having fun?” Sam asked. By now he was stretched out along most of the couch. If Nancy moved her legs, she’d be sure to touch him.
“Learn anything?” he asked, sitting up.
“If you count how to become a romance novelist, then yes,” Nancy said. “How about you?”
“I’m still in college with Esme,” Sam joked.
After another ten minutes or so, Nancy noticed Sam was looking at her again. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said, stammering. “I mean, well—kind of.” Sam swallowed and turned on the couch so that he faced Nancy. Suddenly Nancy realized that Sam was holding her hand. “Nancy, I know this seems fast and everything, but I really—”
“Sam,” Nancy said, her heart beating a mile a minute. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
The look in Sam’s eyes was one of confusion. He held on to her hand, then leaned close enough so that Nancy could see the flecks of green in his brown eyes. “Don’t talk,” he said. An instant later, Sam’s hand was touching her face, and then his lips were on hers. She held her breath, and the moment seemed to last forever.
“Wow,” said Sam.
I’m in trouble now, Nancy thought, feeling Sam’s lips brush her cheek, find their way into her hair, nuzzle her neck.
Nancy pulled back. It was awful to break the spell, and a part of her wished the kiss could go on and on, but she couldn’t shake the thought of Ned, and how she should tell Sam about him. “I’m seeing someone . . .”
“It’s okay,” Sam said. He let Nancy’s hand drop after a final caress. “I understand. You don’t have to explain. It’s just that we work so well together.”
“We do,” said Nancy. “That’s the problem.” She got up from the couch and began pacing the room. “I’m so confused. I’ve been with Ned—he’s my boyfriend—for a long time and I really love him. But spending time with you has been fun and exciting and—”
“And you didn’t mind that kiss just now,” Sam said.
“No,” Nancy admitted, still feeling Sam’s lips on hers. “I didn’t.”
“Listen,” said Sam. “It’s my fault. I rushed things. My mother always says I’m too impatient. I think you’re great, Nancy. I’m not going to pretend I’m not interested. But I won’t put any pressure on you, except to say that Ned sounds like a lucky guy and I hope he appreciates you.”
“He does,” Nancy said, thinking of Ned for what felt like the millionth time that day.
Sam sighed deeply and picked Esme’s manuscript up from the coffee table where he’d set it down. “All this romance must be driving me off the deep end,” he said, smiling ruefully. “Can we get any work done after that stupid move of mine?”
Nancy laughed and tried to quell the last remaining butterflies in her stomach. “Let’s hope so. We’ve got a whole book to read.”
Ten minutes later Nancy felt Sam poking at her leg. “Sam!” she cried.
“Sorry!” Sam said. “I think I found something. Check it out.” Sam handed Nancy two pages from Esme’s manuscript. “The passage that starts at the bottom—there.”
Nancy began to read a paragraph that described Esme’s first novel. “The book was called Black Widow. That was Esme’s nickname.”
“Read on,” Sam urged. “Read about the plot.”
Skimming the passage, Nancy was stunned at what she saw. “It says here that in the novel a character gets poisoned by her best friend.”
“And what do they find out caused the poisoning?” Sam asked.
Nancy let the paper fall to her lap. “Poinsettia leaves.”
Chapter
Thirteen
WEIRD, HUH?” SAM ASKED Nancy. “Unless I’m wrong, we may be dealing with some kind of copy-cat crime here.”
Nancy thought for a moment. “That could be, but what I find more interesting is that someone knew about the details of Esme’s first novel.” Something nagged at her, and as she reread the pages she figured out what it was. “Hold on! It says here that the novel was never published. But she wrote it with a partner in River Heights.” A name jumped off the page at her. “Pia Wieland!” Nancy practically shouted. Nancy explained who Pia was, and how she’d been at the first press conference, and the TV taping. “And at Esme’s reading!”
Sam took the sheet from Nancy. “We’re definitely onto something here,” he said. “According to this, Pia’s got to be over fifty.”
“So?” Nancy
asked, perplexed.
“Remember how my software kept giving us the profile of an older woman?” Sam asked.
“You thought it was bombing out,” Nancy said, thinking quickly. “But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Esme really is being harassed by a middle-aged woman. Pia Wieland! Where’s your phone?” she asked.
“In the kitchen.” Sam followed Nancy into the kitchen. Within a minute, Nancy was on the phone with Esme, asking her about Pia.
“It’s so strange that I didn’t remember Pia,” Esme said. “I wrote that part of the book a while ago, so the details weren’t fresh in my mind. Besides, it’s been ten years since I saw her.”
“Why would Pia have a reason to hold a grudge against you?” Nancy asked. “A reason to seek revenge?”
“Pia and I met in a writers’ workshop,” Esme said. “We worked together for a year, but our collaboration didn’t work out. I understand that she never succeeded on her own. We didn’t keep in touch after we parted. Why would she do this now?”
“I’m not sure,” said Nancy. “We’re going to follow this lead. I’ll let you know what turns up.”
Nancy hung up with Esme and related their conversation to Sam. “This is a hot lead,” said Sam. “I’ll get an address on Pia and we can check it out.”
By the time Nancy and Sam left Sam’s apartment, the light was fading from the clear February sky. It was only four-thirty, but it would soon be completely dark. Nancy realized then that they didn’t have much time before Esme’s ball. In all the excitement, she’d completely forgotten about the party, which was scheduled to begin at six with cocktails, and then continue on through the night with dinner and dancing.
“I hope Pia’s the one,” said Nancy, watching the sun fade from the sky. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could walk into Esme’s Valentine’s Day ball with the news that we’ve caught her attacker?”
“It would,” Sam agreed. “But let’s not count on it. We still need to find evidence to prove our hunch.”
On their way across town, Nancy’s excitement grew. She had a feeling Pia was the one; all the pieces were starting to fall into place. Pia must have harbored a grudge against Esme, one that she had nursed for many years. Now, she was enacting her revenge. The questions were: Why now? Where would it end? And could Nancy and Sam stop her before she struck again?
Ten minutes later Sam was pulling up in front of a nondescript two-story house with faded blue paint peeling in places. The driveway was empty and the lights were out inside.
“Good,” said Sam, cutting the ignition. “No one’s home to keep us company.” He leaned back in the seat, obviously settling in for a wait.
“Let’s go in,” Nancy said. She opened the car door and was about to get out when Sam put his hand on her shoulder and drew her back inside.
“Is that how you do it, Drew?” he asked, grinning.
“A lot of the time there’s an open door or window. That’s not breaking and entering,” Nancy explained. “That’s letting yourself in and waiting for the owner to return so you can speak to her.”
“I see,” said Sam. He seemed to consider Nancy’s reasoning for a moment. Then he clicked open his own door and said, “If anyone asks, I wasn’t here, I didn’t see anything, and I don’t even know you.”
“Right,” said Nancy. And that wasn’t a kiss you gave me earlier, either, she thought, wobbly in the knees from the memory. She’d call Ned as soon as she got home and confess to him everything about Sam, including the kiss. Well, maybe not the kiss, but everything else.
At the back of the house Nancy found a door that opened to her touch. “Bingo,” she said. “Come on in.”
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Sam said, stepping inside. “I really shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I won’t tell,” Nancy said. She pushed him through the door and followed.
They were standing in a laundry area. Through the open door, Nancy saw a kitchen, then the living room beyond. Moving carefully through Pia’s dark house, Nancy quickly found the bedroom.
“I’ll look in here,” she said to Sam, who stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. “You take the living room.”
“Giving orders again, I see,” Sam said with a smile. He saluted, and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“And don’t disturb any evidence,” Nancy warned him with a smile. “But I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”
“You must be used to working with amateurs,” Sam joked. “I’ve got one question for you, Drew.”
“Shoot—” said Nancy.
“If you do this so often, why haven’t you gone to jail?” asked Sam.
Nancy smiled and shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.” Then she went into the bedroom to begin her search.
Half an hour later Nancy had discovered a trove of evidence against Pia. First, she found file boxes in the closet that were full of clippings about Esme—nothing too incriminating there, Nancy thought, except you had to wonder why someone would collect enough information about the romance writer to put together a biography of the woman. Next, Nancy saw a man’s trench coat hanging in the closet. Then, behind the file box, she spotted a dying poinsettia plant with half its leaves cut off. Beside the plant was a book titled Deadly Doses: The Amateur’s Guide to Poisons. That’s when Nancy called out to Sam.
“I think you should come in here,” Nancy cried out. Using a handkerchief to pick up the book, Nancy noticed a bookmark at a page describing poinsettias, along with a list of other necessary ingredients. “Check it out,” Nancy said to Sam when he came into the half-dark room.
Sam took the book from her. After scanning the page and the list, he let out a low whistle. “The toxicology report says the poinsettia leaves were masked with spearmint. And here it is, right on Pia’s list: spearmint leaves.” Holding the book with his left hand, Sam handed a slip of paper to Nancy with his right.
“It’s a receipt from a specialty pet store,” Nancy said, barely able to make out the writing.
“For a black widow spider,” Sam informed her. “What do you think of that?”
“I think we’ve got enough evidence here to put Pia away for a long time,” Nancy said.
“I don’t need to remind you that first we’ll need a legal search warrant,” Sam replied in a mock serious tone.
“I know that,” Nancy replied, feeling a bit defensive. “I guess you could really get in trouble for being here,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” said Sam, “I accept full responsibility. Besides, I wouldn’t be the first guy to lose his head over a girl, would I?”
“I guess not.” Even in the dark, Nancy could feel herself blushing. Alone in Pia’s dark house and excited at the thought of cracking the case, Nancy found herself wishing her life wasn’t so complicated and that she hadn’t put off Sam so strongly back at his place. But the sound of a key in the front door quickly snapped Nancy out of her reverie.
“Pia!” Sam announced, peeking out the bedroom window to the street. “Quick, hide!”
Before Nancy could react, Sam was scuttling under Pia’s bed. Nancy realized it was the safest hiding place and found she had no choice but to follow. A moment later her nose was full of dust, Sam’s elbow was poking into her side, and Pia’s ankles were visible as the woman walked into the bedroom and headed for a closet. Nancy could hear her rummaging around, and then detected what sounded like the chamber of a revolver being spun around, checked, and then clicked into place.
She’s got a gun! Nancy wanted to shout to Sam. They couldn’t be sure, but if Nancy was right, Esme’s life could be in serious danger.
Pia walked toward the door again, stopping momentarily by the bed. Now her feet were facing Nancy, and Nancy saw Pia was wearing what looked like men’s shoes and cuffed pants. The whole time, Pia had been dressing like a man to put Nancy and Sam off her track. That was why she wore the trench coat, the man’s hat. The planning that had gone into Pia’s revenge sent a chill through Nancy, made worse by the
fact that Pia was standing next to the bed. If she discovered that Nancy and Sam were hiding right by her feet . . .
Pia didn’t find them, though. A moment later she left the bedroom, and Nancy heard the sound of the front door closing. She waited five seconds, then crawled out from under the bed and raced to the window. There Pia was getting into a late-model sedan. Sam was out from under the bed by now and beside Nancy at the window.
“She’s going after Esme, I just know it!” Nancy cried. “We’ve got to stop her.”
Chapter
Fourteen
PIA WAS PULLING AWAY from the curb. Urgently, Nancy held on to Sam’s arm and dragged him from the room. “We’ve got to follow her. I’m sure she’s going to the Barrington. Pia’s got to know about Esme’s ball tonight. What better way to get to Esme, finally, than to ruin her ultimate party?”
Sam was looking out the front door now, careful not to be seen by Pia. “She’s at the end of the block,” he told her. “Come on. Let’s go!”
Nancy followed Sam at a run out to his car. Sam had the engine started before Nancy was even inside. “You are impatient,” she said with a smile as she slammed the door. “Just be sure you’re not so eager that Pia knows we’re behind her.”
“Please,” said Sam, peeling away from the curb with a squeal of rubber. “I’ve got a bit of experience, as you know.”
“I figured,” said Nancy, her excitement rising. The chase was on! She was sitting in the passenger seat for once, able to enjoy the ride. Maybe she could get used to having an equal for a partner. Maybe it was a good thing—or a great thing—that she and Sam worked well together. If that were true, then maybe it would also be better not to be involved, to keep their relationship professional.
“Earth to Nancy,” Sam said. “Beam in, Nancy.” He held his hand to his mouth as if it were a microphone. “Suspect is in sight. Detective is out to lunch.”