Murder Retreat by Nic Saint

Author:Nic Saint [Saint, Nic]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Puss in Print Publications
Published: 2018-12-11T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Now wasn’t this awkward? Bobbi stared at Carl, suddenly seeing him in an entirely different light. Jack Young was her favorite writer bar none. And he looked so different from his author picture. In the picture featured on his website, on the back cover of his books, and on his author profile, he was a butch, buff man with a killer smile and a shock of raven hair. The man who sat next to her could have fit twice in Jack Young’s frame.

“You lost weight,” she said therefore, unable to focus on anything else but his altered appearance. “You look a lot bigger in your author picture. Bigger and buffer, in fact.”

Carl grimaced again, as if in pain. “My doctor told me if I didn’t lose weight I was a coronary waiting to happen. So I took up running. And walking. I walk for miles these days. In fact I started dictating all my books. While I walk. And then I edit them when I get home. In fact I told Marty to do the same. His doctor gave him the same diagnosis mine did. So I invited him to come out walking with me. He could dictate his doorstoppers while I dictated mine. He refused. Said he hated walking. Or any other form of physical activity.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Dennison,” said Bobbi. “I guess I got a little carried away.”

“You can say that again,” he scoffed.

Bobbi saw that she’d made a bloomer. “It’s just that… you’re the only suspect we’ve got left. So naturally I assumed…”

“What I don’t get is why you would go around investigating Marty’s death. Who are you people? Private detectives hired by Teodora? What?”

Bobbi directed a look of apology at her two co-writers. She’d dragged them in here and now Carl had every reason to call the police and complain about being targeted like this.

“Actually we’re writers, just like you, Mr. Dennison,” said Melody.

Carl was frowning again—not a good sign. “Writers? I don’t get it.”

“We’re two cabins over” said Bobbi. “We met Marty the day he died. He paid us a visit, wanting to bum a cigarette. We took an instant liking to him, and when Mel and Z paid him a visit later, they were the ones who found his body. His sudden death made such an impression we decided to look into his death—as the police officers in charge—Detectives Mulligan and Mullet—haven’t managed to inspire a lot of confidence in a quick resolution.”

“I see,” said Carl reflectively. “It’s ironic, isn’t it?”

“What is?” asked Zita, who was studying the row of Jim Preacher books on Carl’s bookshelf.

“Before Marty hopped over to your cabin he was here first. But since I gave up smoking and embraced the healthy life I couldn’t help him out. I suggested going for a long hike instead, but he respectfully declined. If only he’d said yes he wouldn’t be dead right now. If only I’d managed to convince my friend to join me he would still be alive.”

“You can’t think like that, Carl,” said Melody.

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