Page 29 of An Amateur Sleuth's Guide to Murder

Watson beamed at the attention, then returned to his bed.

Jolene rolled her eyes at Lilly’s stalling. “You’ve got a dinner in Seattle at seven, remember?”

Lilly threw up her hands. “Fine. I remember. I wish he’d accepted my invitation to the house. I hate going into Seattle at night.”

“I’m coming with you, and we have a car meeting us at the ferry terminal. You’ll be in and out in no time.” Jolene nodded to the books. “Your fans are waiting.”

Lilly took the first book and slipped on some reading glasses. “I love being an author. I love being an author.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Jolene grinned. “You’re giving Meg the wrong impression.”

Lilly laughed as Meg put another pile of books on the signing table. “I am grateful for the fact that people seem to love my books and for having the chance to meet readers. I like spending time with my characters more.”

“And the money. You love the money,” Jolene added as she stacked the signed books after Lilly finished with them.

“I love what the money buys. Like my house. And time with the two of you,” Lilly clarified. When Watson barked, reminding her of his existence, she added, “Sorry. With the three of you.”

* * *

That night, after everyone but Meg and Watson had gone home or to their dinner engagement, Natasha and Dalton showed up with pizza.

The store was quiet, so they ate in the front, on the couch, as Meg recounted her day. “I didn’t realize how much work authors have to put in after the book is done. Especially those who are doing well. It’s all about the social aspect.”

“And you haven’t even done an author event with her. Your mom usually has Junior and me at these things, running errands, moving boxes, and doing crowd control. It gets crazy. And that’s before she moved it to the larger venue in city hall. Tomorrow’s going to be a madhouse. The people on the ferry line are already talking about it. They add extra staff for launch days.” Dalton took another slice of pizza and folded it before taking a bite.

“I worked a few smaller events when Mom bought the bookstore during high school. I remember stacking books.” Meg gave Watson a bite of the pizza crust. “It was nothing like this. I think it’s crushed my dream of being a huge author. Now I’m hoping that my book sells and I become a solid midlist author, where no one expects much of this event stuff.”

“From what I’ve heard, you have to do more stuff as a medium-level author.” Natasha held up her hand to block the dirty look Meg threw her way. “Don’t kill the messenger. Tabitha, Josh’s new girlfriend, is always talking about all the social media he has to do compared to what she does as an actress. And guess what? Josh has a type. Tabitha’s writing a romance novel in her spare time.”

“I guess the acting thing isn’t working out?” Meg crossed her legs and stared at the pizza. She shouldn’t want a third slice, but she did. Food tasted better on the island. Or she was depressed. She’d heard that people ate when they were depressed. Or stressed. She’d been through a lot, so maybe that was what was going on. She decided to stop thinking and eat the pizza.

“She told me yesterday that her agent was playing hardball with them, so she had some free time and decided to do this book thing. Since it looked so easy.” Natasha laughed.

The front door opened as Meg took a huge bite of her pizza. She chewed furiously but then relaxed when she saw it was Uncle Troy. He glanced at the three of them.

“Looks like you’re busy around here,” he joked.

“Everyone has to eat,” Meg responded after swallowing. “We have plenty. Do you want a slice?”

“Nope. But I need to talk with Ms. Jones for a few minutes. Do you mind coming to the station with me? If you’re done with dinner?” He scratched Watson on the head while he waited for an answer.

Natasha’s eyes widened, and she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Now?”

“If you don’t mind.” Uncle Troy nodded. “We need to clear up why you were the last person seen with Robert Meade on the night he died. We have a video of him getting into your car at the ferry terminal.”

CHAPTER12

Having too many suspects is a good thing.

“What on earth is going on?” Meg stood, but Dalton grabbed her hand and pulled her back down on the couch.

“Let your uncle do his job.” Dalton put an arm around her. “Natasha, call me if you need a ride home. I don’t want you walking alone in the dark.”

Uncle Troy shook his head. “You kids take care of each other. Maybe a little too much sometimes. Don’t worry about Natasha. I’ll drop her off at her house when we finish talking.”

“I’m worried about her,” Meg declared.

“Meg, leave it alone. I’ll fill you in tomorrow morning.” Natasha wiped her hands with a napkin and then stood. “Mr. Miller, I’m ready.”

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