[Overindulge,Opulence,Dangerously,Nondescript,Historical]

  “Hello Eve, they’ve just arrested Monique, and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been investigating, they never would have uncovered the stolen graphic novel. I know you can’t take her case, it'd be a conflict of interest but could you talk to the public defender, tell them just how horrible Jones is at his job. Give them advice on how to proceed. Monique was a foster kid and grew up in the system, she’s only twenty one. She has no money, I tried to impress on her not to speak to the police but I’m sure she’s scared to death.”

  “You’re right about conflict of interest, but I’ll try to casually run into the public defender and have a chat. But if you want to assure her freedom, keep doing what you are doing. You’ve made the police department look like fools, they’ve made a desperate arrest in my opinion. Sure they have a very compelling motive, but no physical evidence that I know of, as for opportunity probably as she resides in the house.”

  “But the motive isn’t a good one because she didn’t know that the book was missing. Imagine if someone broke into your house and you came home and they were standing in your living room. They apologized and said that they’d entered the house by mistake. Pled that you don’t call the police and leave, never bother you again. You look around your house, you don’t see anything out of order. You check your underwear drawer to make sure they aren’t some kind of pervert. Do you go to your bookcase to see if there is a magazine missing? Of course you don’t, she didn’t even know it was taken until yesterday when I asked her to check to see if any of her work had been stolen.”

  “Laura, you are preaching to the choir, I actually trust your instincts in this case way more than I trust this detective. After wasting so much time pursuing an obviously innocent woman, he was backed against a wall. Make an arrest or be replaced. I was the one pushing for him being removed from the case so that there would be a competent investigator on this case. So are you going to give up or do you plan to keep investigating?”

  “No, I’m not going to give up, not until Monique is freed. We have a suspect coming tonight. In my opinion, he is almost assuredly not the killer. But we have a simple and easy way to check. So we’ll do that.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, Anais and I are going to meet him at the store in a couple of hours.”

  “Good, now when I casually bump into this public defender, if I had your permission I could casually share with them all the things that your investigation has revealed so far and I might also mention that you plan to keep at it.”

  “Yes please do that, Eve. Tell Monique, I won’t stop until we bring her home.”

  “I’ll do that Laura, I’ll call you if I have any news. I don’t want you to get your hopes up too much about the public defender. Personally I’d be very skeptical of another suspect's information. Because honestly under other circumstances this is exactly what we were aiming for. Another person arrested for the crime they were accusing you of. You do also understand that if you can find proof, exonerating Monique, that might put you right back in the hot seat.”

  “I understand that Eve, in fact I’d welcome that, because I have a great attorney. Who’d win against a false arrest, I’m just worried that the public defender won’t be able to measure up or they would try to talk Monique into taking a plea bargain to avoid a trial.”

  “Alright, I’ll call you if I have any news and you let me know how you make out with tonight's suspect.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  I had a couple more hours before Tyson and Anais were due to arrive. So with Lucy happy to wait on customers, I took a walk. Whenever I needed inspiration in New York City, I’d head to Central Park and start walking. Putting one foot before another has a way of jarring loose ideas. It wasn’t until I’d read Walden for maybe the third time before I took Thoreau’s advice to heart. I mean walking seems like such a waste of time. Subway or cab you’d get somewhere anywhere from three times to tens times faster, warmer and drier too boot.

  But it’s the actual slowing down that gives you time to think, plus while it doesn’t look like much exercise, I lost ten pounds during the pandemic just from walking to where I was going instead of taking a cab or subway. I reduced my chances of catching covid, while improving my health and I saved a lot of money from transportation costs, even while purchasing a decent pair of running shoes to walk in, and a raincoat to brave the elements. Plus at least half the time I’d come up with a decent idea.

  Today no ideas flowed to the surface, but my roiling emotions were back under control by the time I arrived back at the bookstore. Lucy was talking animatedly to a young couple who were already holding a few books each. So I went upstairs and looked at the physical whiteboard. I completely duplicated my digital whiteboard with this physical one.

  I had two theories. Lachlan had stolen an idea from a writer and was killed for it. But once I knew what he’d stolen, that theory went out the window because Monique didn’t even know it was stolen, and she is smart enough to use the legal system to find redress. So I started crossing off all the writer based theories, so that left only what Lachlan was doing in his personal life. I was back to finding more women he’d ‘charmed’ with his writer’s facade. So tomorrow night I was headed back to the pub. I’d already found three girls, and it didn’t seem like Lachlan was able or wanted to hold onto them for very long.

  So surely there must be more, right. I’m not sure if it was the walk or the whiteboard that inspired me, but if you want to pick up women impressed by writers, where is the best place to accomplish that? Right here in the bookstore right. But like any smart animal, you don’t crap where you eat. So if the bookstore is out, what about the public library, right down the street. A built in audience of readers, who’d be even more likely to be impressed by a writer, then a woman in the pub.

  The library was already closed but I planned to be there as soon as they opened in the morning. I wrote it on the whiteboard, digitally and physically. Then I went to get something to eat before my guest was due to arrive.

  Anais arrived at precisely seven thirty. I told Lucy, that she was done for the day, and after reporting that sales had been good, steady. She left. Meanwhile I went through my end of day walkthrough of the store, but Lucy had beaten me to it and I found only one book out of order in the entire store.

  “So have you calmed down a little since this afternoon.”

  “Yes, I took a walk, that always calms me down, and when I came back I had an idea that Lachlan didn't really need to confine his pursuit of women to the evenings. So tomorrow morning I’m heading to the library first thing. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I mean where are you more likely to find women impressed by a writer, a bar or a library? I’m not giving up on the pub though if you want to go tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, fine as long as I get to choose my own beer, I suppose you’ll be safe enough in the library on your own.”

  “I should hope so, with all the young mothers and kids there I better be. Wait, maybe that’s it. A young mother stuck home alone all day with the kids, meets a writer in the library to spice up her afternoon nap time. Then hubby finds out and decides that Lachlan isn’t going to spoil his perfect family.”

  “That theory actually makes a lot of sense. Just go to the library, find an attractive blonde mother and act like you are grieving Lachlan, see if she bites. It’s a good thing the boy had a type.”

  “I was actually planning on talking to the librarian, you know tell her I’m looking for a killer. Librarians are very civic minded, it’s a given that they like to read. But they could make a lot more money working for a corporation as a research specialist than a low paid civil servant. So as long as I’m not asking them to break any privacy rules, I think they’ll help.”

  “If they refuse, just look for hot blondes who are breastfeeding.”

  Just then my cellphone rang.

  “It’s Eve”

  “Well answer it, Laura.”

  “Hi, Eve, did you learn something?”

  “I spoke to the public defender and he wants you to go with him and meet with Monique tomorrow morning. His name is Aiden Backlund and he’ll pick you up at the store tomorrow morning at ten fifteen if you still want to continue investigating.”

  “Yes I do, I definitely do, thanks, Eve.”

  I hung up and filled in Anais on the latest development.

  “I want to find out what’s in that graphic novel and as Jones is as likely to let me see it as I am to win the lottery, something I’ve never played. This is perfect. I can get the whole story from the author. I just wish she was upstairs and I could go ask her, instead of her spending the night in jail. We need to solve this fast, before she gets hurt in there.”

  Then there was a light rap at the door. Tyson Ricci, had arrived. Tyson was quite round, like a ball with legs. But he was dressed in brown from head to foot. I think if Claire had seen a gentleman this heavy she would have mentioned it in her description. Still it was a possibility.

  I went over and unlocked the door.

  “Hello you must be Tyson, I’m Laura and this is my friend Anais.”

  “Hello Laura, Anais, it’s nice to meet you both. I told the publisher at the magazine that I was coming here tonight for a first interview for a spot in the collective. He insisted that I ask you for an interview about the murder that happened here. He’d heard that an arrest was made today. One of the writers from the collective.”

  “She didn’t do it.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Anais cleared her throat and stared at me. I got the message, blabbing anything to the press, even a local travel magazine might be counterproductive.

  “Forget I said anything.”

  “It’s forgotten, I promise. Perhaps when this whole thing is behind you think about granting me an interview. Look I don’t want to blow my chance at a spot in the collective. It’s just Ted, the publisher has been very supportive of me, so when he asked I felt like I had to at least make the attempt. Anything you say here tonight is off the record. I swear.”

  “That’s fine, I appreciate loyalty. So did you bring some fiction samples? I did stalk you online and read some of your non-fiction. It was very good.”

  “Yes, here's a couple of short stories and my novel. It's unfinished. I'm about seventy five percent there but I’m not sure if I should just scrap the whole draft and start fresh or finish and try to fix the issues in a second draft. I cyber stalked you as well, so I know that you were an acclaimed editor before taking over the store and collective, so I don’t expect you to give me free advice on how to fix my novel. I just wanted you to be prepared for the state it’s in.”

  “I understand, I will be reading some of it at least and if you want my honest opinion after I’ve read some of it, I’ll be happy to share my thoughts with you. So while you are being candid with me, I feel it will only be fair to be candid with you. The store and collective are struggling at the moment. I have a financial advisor looking everything over and she told me that some things will need to be changed. The original agreement was written in the mid seventies by a couple of hippies and it’s stood the test of time for close to fifty years. But they couldn’t have known at the time what the state of the publishing industry would be fifty years later. I’ll close the store and the collective before I let its vision be diluted by profit or greed.”

  “Actually that is the story, I’d rather tell, if you do grant me an interview someday. Do you know the whole history of the collective? How it was formed and run in the beginning, and actually it’s more likely to align with what readers of the magazine are really looking for.”

  “Yes, I know the history of the place very well, as my aunt was one of the hippies to start the place, so if we are going to be forced to close, by market forces, I’ll be happy to rant about what kind of society we’ve become where bookstores are struggling to survive. Where profit is the only reason the majority of Americans get out of bed in the morning.”

  “Okay, hippie slow your roll.”

  “No, it’s fine Anais, this is all off the record. I swore and I mean it. Not a word said here tonight will even go into my notes, let alone be published.”

  “Yeah, I understand that, I just don’t want to listen to another hippie rant, tonight.”

  I laughed. “It’s fine, I said it and I stand by my word but I think that’s enough for tonight. Tyson, as you heard it was an upsetting day for me and I have your samples so let me read them over, and we can meet again. But would you please autograph one of your articles for me. Your favorite article or short story, the one you are most proud of.”

  “Sure, I’d be honored."

  Anais took his picture with me as he autographed one of his short stories. I felt bad, leading him on and dragging him over here as a suspect, he genuinely seemed like a nice guy. If the place survives, I’d consider him seriously for the collective. After he left.

  “Laura you liked him didn’t you?”

  “Yes Anais, I really did. I think he’d make a fine edition to the collective. If we still have one. But it’s too late to go see Claire tonight, besides I’m exhausted, which is really weird, this is just way too early to be tired, it must be a sign of old age.”

  “It’s a sign of emotional fatigue, go to bed. Lots to do tomorrow right. Prison, library and pub and Claire.”

  I let Anais out, locked up the store and went right to sleep.

  I was up early, getting ready for my prison visit. Aiden picked me up at ten fifteen, just as Eve had told me he would.

  “Mr Backlund, thank you for picking me up. I appreciate the ride.”

  “It’s Aiden and it’s a little more complicated than that. No bail has been set yet, and Monique hasn’t even been arraigned on the charge so she’s not allowed visitors.”

  “Then what are we even doing here?”

  “I’m her attorney, so they have to let me see her. That’s where we get to the complicated part. Here is one dollar, you are not a licensed private investigator, but you are consulting for me, on the publishing industry in general. Laura, I understand you have years of editorial experience and also have vital insight into the collective. So I want Monique to explain to you everything that is in her graphic novel, so I can determine if that is going to help or hurt us in court.”

  “I understand, I also wanted to know what the story is, to see if it has anything to do with Lachlan’s murder. What doesn’t make sense is after reading it why Jones arrested Monique.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  We were taken through security, a metal detector wand was passed over both of us and they searched Aiden’s briefcase. After that we were brought to a small room with four chairs bolted to the floor across a metal table also attached to the floor. Clearly none of it was designed for comfort, ours or the prisoners. It wasn’t long before they brought in Monique in chains. They uncuffed her legs and cuffed her to the eyebolt attached to the table then left us alone.

  Aiden began.”Did you make any kind of statement Ms Miller?”

  She began haltingly, “No, Laura, said not to say a word until I spoke to an attorney.”

  “Excellant, well done both of you. I’m Aiden Backlund, just call me Aiden. I’m your court appointed public defender. I believe you know Laura. She is consulting for me on the collective and the publishing business. Now we don’t have much time, tomorrow you’ll be arraigned for murder so we need a lot of information pretty quickly. As far as I can tell, the only piece of evidence they have is a graphic novel that was uncovered by Laura, is that correct?”

  “Yes as far as I know. It’s what they asked me about, when they arrested me.”

  “Please tell us the contents of the novel, I need to understand what it contains if I’m to mount a defense.”

  “I understand, the graphic novel is autobiographical. It's about the last night I spent with my birth parents and the following morning. First off, I was three years old, my parents and I drove around town and picked up drugs, liquor and beer. All of these details I was later informed of by child services. I remember driving around then going into the woods where my father set up a tent, we all went into the tent, where my parents started to drink and take drugs. At some point I fell asleep. I woke when I heard moans from my parents, my mother was naked and grinding on my father who was lying prone.

  I thought they were fighting again, which they did a lot. So I grabbed my teddy and left the tent, I just wanted to get away from them and the moaning so I started down a path. Pretty soon it split, I asked teddy which way to go and he said left. To be honest at that age I don’t even know if I could tell left from right. But that is my memory, the trail keeps splitting and every time I ask teddy and everytime it’s left. Oh when I first left the tent, it was beautiful, sunny like a Disney cartoon, idyllic but it seemed as if each time the trail split, some of the color and the sun itself dimmed. Before the first split there had been bunnies hopping around, by a magnificent waterfall.

  But as I said, the more the trail split the grayer and scarier the world became. I don’t remember even considering turning back. I was so mad at my parents for dragging me out into the woods. Besides, I never could have found my way back at this point. I’m not sure where I even thought that I was going. If I had to guess, I was trying to get home, to my bed. I remember being very tired. But as I continued walking, I thought I heard faint voices. So I kept going. There was a path off to the right of the trail I was on that opened into a clearing. Likely it was a DEC official campsite. There was a man and a woman standing in the empty clearing arguing, angrily but quietly, nothing like the screamfests that my parents engaged in.

  Suddenly the woman pulled a hatchet out of its holder on her belt, she hit the man in the forehead, twice I think, then I screamed. The woman turned when she heard me scream, at first she was frozen but then she started charging at me, so I turned and ran into the woods. I fell a few times, on rocks and roots but I was too scared to cry. I could hear crashing through the forest but it was off to my right so I turned and ran some more. Finally I tripped on a root, I was exhausted and couldn’t get up again, but from where I lay, I saw a hollow log so I crawled in.

  I fell asleep, I woke when I heard a man yelling, ‘little girl come on out, I won’t hurt you’. But I was too scared. Then it was dark. The man stopped yelling but I was afraid to go out into the dark. When it started to get brighter, I came out of the log. I was very hungry. It'd been at least a day and a half before I’d had anything to eat. I had no idea which direction to go and teddy who somehow I still held onto had no advice to give so I just kept walking. Eventually I reached a road and a car stopped, a family on vacation I was told later. They gave me something to drink, and some snacks and took me to the police. Next thing I knew some lady came and took me away. To social services, I never saw my parents again. I heard much later on that they were arrested for child endangerment, child abandonment and a few drug charges. I think they might have served some time. The end. I didn’t start to draw the graphic novel till I was around fifteen, twelve years after it happened. But the memory was seared into my brain. I think that I thought if I wrote it all down, it’d go away.”

  “Monique, did they ever catch the woman with the hatchet?”

  “I don’t know? I never told anyone that story, I thought that I’d seen something that I wasn't supposed to see. I was afraid that I’d get in trouble. Plus my life had just been turned upside down, I was sent to live in some group home. I hated it, I mean I often hated my old home too especially when my parents would fight, but at least it didn’t have a lot of bigger scary kids living there. I was pretty much ignored in my parents home, which was a lot better than being bullied in a group home.”

  “Monique, you said that the woman pulled the hatchet from its holder, can you describe the holder?”

  “It was leather, and had a picture drawn on it.”

  “Would you recognize the holder if you saw it again?"

  “Yes, I’m sure that I would.”

  I pulled out my cell phone. Scrolled through the pictures. Found the sheath with the map of Middle Earth burned into the leather and handed the phone to Monique.

  “Is that the same sheath?”

  “Yes, but how did you ever get a picture of it?”

  “I found it about three feet from where Lachlan was murdered. You said a woman with a hatchet, but later you said a man was calling for you to come out.”

  “Yes, that's right. What’s that matter, I thought she went to get help looking for me.”

  “I don’t know, just something in my brain says something is off, it’ll come to me. We are going to get you out of here, Monique.”