“What?Like, losing contracts on Vivienne’s books, that kind of thing?”
“A lot more than that.If anyone hated Vivienne enough to kill her…” But Graeme shook his head.“I don’t know.Margaux hates her.But I can’t see her doing that kind of thing.”
I nodded, but I didn’t say what I was thinking: people killed each other all the time, for all sorts of reasons.
“What did Vivienne want to talk to you about yesterday?”I asked.“She stopped you in the hall, and she didn’t look happy.”
“Ah,” Graeme said.“That was a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding about what?”
Those red blotches swarmed his face again.“Really, it’s not related—”
“Graeme, I’m sure you’re trying to be discreet or conscientious or something, but Vivienne is dead, and someone killed her.Whatever she was upset about, it might have had something to do with it.”
“It didn’t,” Graeme said.“I promise.”
“I don’t think the sheriff will see it that way.”
Graeme gave a strange laugh.He turned toward the windsocks, which were still fluttering and popping in the breeze, but he continued watching me out of the corner of his eye.The signal seemed to mean:this conversation is over.
But amateur sleuths are not so easily deterred.(Just ask that old lady who killed all those people with a quiche—I’ll look up the title later.) So, I said, “What I can’t understand is why Vivienne was out in the grotto at all.Do you know why she would have gone there?”
“No.And I’m sorry, but I need to—”
“From what I understand,” I said, “she was supposed to be at her one-on-ones—”
Graeme flinched.
“What?”I said.“That’s it, isn’t it?That’s what Vivienne was confused about.That’s what you don’t want to tell me.”
“Mr.Dane, I promise it’s not going to help you.If anything—”
“‘If anything’ what?You showed her something she didn’t understand.What was it?”
With a sigh, Graeme flipped through his clipboard.He stopped on a page of what must have been the full conference program—the organizer’s edition, with all his notes and extra information.Including the sign-ups for the author one-on-ones.
“I don’t know how this happened,” Graeme said.“She was a last-minute addition, so I sent out a form to any attendees who had wanted a one-on-one but hadn’t been able to get one.The spots filled up fast.I was scrambling, and I copied over the names and didn’t even look at them until Vivienne asked me to look up her schedule.”
“Who was it?”I asked.“Who was supposed to meet with Vivienne during her one-on-one?”
Graeme turned the clipboard toward me.
And there it was.
At the top of the list.
My name.
“You were.”
Chapter 9
“This is insane,” I said as I paced, clutching my pumpkin pecan latte in both hands.
The day was still bright and clear, but it was colder now, and the breeze stung the tips of my ears.The canvas awnings of the farmers market stalls stretched and rustled, and the familiar scents of Indira’s baking—cinnamon and cardamom and roasted apple—were, for once, no comfort at all.
“And you’re sure you didn’t sign up for a one-on-one?”Fox asked.“I’m not saying you would have picked Vivienne, but maybe it was a simple copy-and-paste error.Perhaps the master list—”
