Buried in a Book (Novel Idea, #1)

Griffiths raised his brows. “Before or after this man died in her office?”


I glanced around the officer’s shoulder in order to watch the men strap Marlette into the gurney. One of them grimaced, no doubt over the pungent smell emanating from the corpse. The second paramedic was all business and quietly directed his partner to prepare to hoist the gurney. I felt sorry for the two men. It couldn’t be easy to bear Marlette’s weight down a flight of stairs. Suddenly, I wondered how a person with a physical disability would make it up to our office and whether the Novel Idea Literary Agency represented any handicapped clients.

“Ms. Wilkins?”

Returning my attention to the policeman’s patient face, I answered, “Ms. Burlington-Duke left afterward, and I’m sorry to say that I doubt she, or anyone else in the back offices, could tell you much more about Marlette. I believe he was assigned to the interns. No one else interacted with him.”

“Do you think you could get me contact information for the most recent intern?” he inquired, his grin transforming from friendliness into something intangibly flirtatious as he handed me a business card.

I told Griffiths I’d be glad to help. Why not? He seemed like a sweet guy, and I wanted to talk to that intern myself. Not only would I like to find out more about Marlette, but I’d also love to know why my predecessor hadn’t been able to hack it at the agency for more than a mere three months.

I took the card and returned the lawman’s inviting smile. “I’ll get back to you soon.”

As the professionals concentrated on their tasks, the literary agents drifted out of their offices. Jude pulled the stocky policeman aside and talked to him. I wanted to listen in on the other cop’s reaction to Jude’s murder theory, but Officer Griffiths kept demanding my attention.

“Ms. Wilkins, we need to conduct a search of the premises. If you and your coworkers would please make room, we’ll get started.”

I was about to reply when Franklin stepped forward. “I think you need a warrant for that. Especially since Ms. Burlington-Duke is not present.”

“Sir, this is a possible crime scene, and we can search the open areas of this lobby without a warrant,” Officer Griffiths replied. A trifle embarrassed, Franklin acquiesced and went to stand beside Flora.

Zach and Jude moved forward to assist the men from the coroner’s office with their burden, but their offer was courteously declined. Flora began to weep again and was comforted by Franklin, who made soothing noises while handing her tissue after tissue. As I stood aside with the agents, Griffiths asked them several questions about Marlette, but it was obvious they knew almost nothing about him. The other officer started to search the area around the sofa, peering behind the throw pillows and running his hands between the cushions.

Eventually, Franklin escorted Flora back to her office. Jude, Zach, and I stood around looking at one another, then at the policemen. One of them was on his hands and knees shining a flashlight under the couch, while the other was flipping through a notebook. It was as if we expected them to provide us with an explanation, to reason away the morning’s tragedy. No one said anything for a while, and a sudden breeze wafted up as the gurney was taken outside. Downstairs, the door closed with a click, then almost immediately opened again. Heels tapped up the stairs.

“Oh my!” a genteel voice exclaimed. “Whatever has happened?”

An elegant woman stepped into the reception area. She was wearing an ivory pantsuit that looked like it was fresh from a boutique in Paris. With strappy gold sandals on her feet and a gold-threaded, multicolored scarf arranged artfully around her neck, she exuded an air of sophistication and drama. Her red hair was arranged into a complicated chignon at the nape of her neck, accentuating her incredible cheekbones. Who was this beauty? Could she be a movie star? If so, what was she doing here, in a literary agency in Inspiration Valley?

Standing—no, posing—at the agency’s entrance, she took off her sunglasses. Green eyes the color of jade cast around the space, taking in all of us standing about like thoughtless zombies. Barely glancing at me, her gaze alighted on both Jude and Zach longer than necessary before she turned to Griffiths.

“Oh, officer,” she gushed, approaching him. “Has something terrible happened here? I saw men outside with a gurney. Pray tell, who was under the sheet? Not…one of us. Tell me it wasn’t…” Her hands fluttered at her heart, and she batted long eyelashes at him.

Griffiths blushed and cleared his throat. “I’m Officer Griffiths, ma’am. And you are…?”

The woman stood a little straighter. “I am Luella Ardor, an agent here at Novel Idea. Please, what’s happened?”