Caught dead to write, p.13
Caught Dead to Write, page 13
“Just for us?” He winked at her.
She felt the blush settle on her cheeks. “Well, not for the writers. It might distract them from what they need to get done. A week isn’t a lot of time to pack in a years’ worth of creativity.”
His watch beeped and he groaned. “Time for you to go inside and become a pumpkin. Have fun with your writers. Shauna said you might have a new suspect for Pete to check out?”
She stood and brushed off her pants. “Lancaster’s wife was clearly at the party from the picture we have, and in an actual zombie costume. As long as it matches what we found on Harriet’s body, it’s a no-brainer.”
“But if it doesn’t fit? Like the trial with the glove in a certain celebrity spouse killing?” Seth asked, rubbing Sam’s belly as he talked. “Besides, it’s circumstantial. She might have changed out of the outfit and threw it away. Maybe someone got it out of her trash.”
“Then we’re right back to the few suspects, including me, and I’d rather not be on that exclusive list.” Cat moved toward the door. “If anything, it gives Uncle Pete something else to look at. I’m still not certain that it’s not all about Covington. You know they take care of things in a different way there.”
“If it was a Covington thing, Harriet would have disappeared, not be stuffed in your barn for someone to find.” Seth took the ball from Sam. “You know they don’t like loose ends.”
Cat paused at the door. “Are you coming in?”
Seth threw the ball across the yard. “In a few minutes. Sam needs some exercise.”
Cat went inside, brushing her shoes on the rug by the door and hanging up his coat on the hook. She glanced out the window for a minute, watching Sam chase the ball and bring it to his master. Sam liked her. He loved Seth.
Moving through the living room, the cover of a book caught her eye. It was sitting by Seth’s chair. She opened it to the bookmark and read a few sentences. Her latest Tori release. She hadn’t known Seth to ever read anything she’d written. Yet here was proof he was reading the last book she’d published. She tucked the bookmark into the book and set it on the table.
She looked toward the kitchen to make sure he hadn’t followed her inside. “Seth Howard, you are a mystery.”
Then she left the west wing and headed up to her office to grab her Friday night session folder and her laptop, just in case she decided to write with the group after the meeting. Her head was filled with memories of her and Seth, and not for the first time, she wondered why she was even mad. The memory of the sleepless nights when he was out of country returned and the fear of losing him forever slapped her in the face. Why was she making sure he couldn’t hurt her again when he hadn’t tried to hurt her in the first place?
She pushed her emotions into the “after the retreat” box and opened the door to her office. She liked the imagery of stepping into her working world. It was why she mostly wrote in her office except for retreat weeks. That way the “writing Cat” and the real-life Cat had a dividing point. Mostly it worked so she didn’t worry about the writing when she wasn’t upstairs actively working. But sometimes, the answer to a writing block or a missed plot step would hit her at the oddest times. She made sure she had notebooks all over the house. That way, she could jot down the solution without running the three sets of stairs to her office.
Work-life balance was a nice concept, but when you worked at home, sometimes the lines tended to fade together. She made a note before she left about the January editing retreat and having a session on work-life balance. Most writers fit their writing into the nooks and crannies of their lives. Which was how things got done, but what about life? She wondered if there were any social science or psychology professors working on the concept at Covington. Which might be a second way of getting the access she needed if the English department failed her.
She grabbed her notebook, laptop, and the retreat file she’d put together with the writers’ goals as well as a few concluding remarks she always liked to say. There would be more time tomorrow at the dinner, but she wanted that to be fun and light.
Or at least as fun as it could be with an active murder investigation going on. She opened the file and looked at Stephen’s goal list. He had a word count listed as well as a few research projects he wanted to start, and under the personal goals, he wrote one thing. Start to learn to live without Harriet.
Cat didn’t believe Stephen had killed his wife. But Uncle Pete didn’t have a lot of suspects on the list. She hoped this new information about Lancaster and his wife being at the party would open up the suspect pool. Her watch buzzed. She had five minutes before the last session would start.
Putting aside the murder, it had been a good session so far in her eyes. The party had allowed the writers a faster bond. Except three of them had already known each other. So she couldn’t totally call that a result. The Covington student had bonded well with the group. And their last-minute addition hadn’t caused the group dynamics to change much. Either Cat and Shauna were getting better at this retreat thing, or the mix of people had made it work.
She thought it was probably the latter.
When she walked into the living room, the group was brainstorming. She dropped her stuff on her chair and tapped Deek’s arm from his place next to her. “I’m grabbing some coffee. I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, wow, I can’t believe it’s that late already.” Deek stood and addressed the group. “Hey, it’s almost time for our session. Pixie? Are you good with the title suggestions you got or should we meet tomorrow morning to finish this up?”
“I’m good. I’m going to play around with a few, but yeah, I think I have some good options here.” Pixie ripped the flipchart paper off the stand. “I need some sustenance. I wonder if there’s more brownies.”
“I’m sure there are.” Cat smiled at the group as they all stood and stretched. “You guys are rocking this group participation section of the retreat. I’m going to have to give you all A’s.”
“Wait, are we going to have a grade after this?” Cari’s face went pale. “I should have been writing more.”
“I was just kidding, but seriously, most groups don’t bond this fast or take over the retreat as much as you guys did. So thank you. I wasn’t worried about your success at the retreat at all.” Cat glanced at her watch. “We’ll meet back here in five?”
“My mom used to say that you get what you give out of life,” Stephen said as they moved from the living room into the hallway. “But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know how much more you can experience when you just let people into your world.”
Deek slapped him on the back. “Dude, you’ve had a stressful week, yet you still showed up every day. I’d be curled in a ball somewhere if I had to live through your week.”
Stephen smiled and then moved to the stairs. “I’ll be right back. Save me a brownie, would you?”
Deek and Cat were the last ones left in the hallway. Deek turned to Cat. “He does seem like he’s doing good, right? It’s just not me.”
Cat turned to look at the stairs, a frown forming on her face. “No, I think Stephen is doing really well considering everything that happened.”
“Deek, get in here. Shauna made that pecan cookie you loved so much.” Pixie called out from the dining room.
Cat smiled before she turned around. No use showing her concern. Deek was already worried about his new friend. “I love those cookies too.”
The group was back in the room in ten minutes, not five, but they all had treats in front of them. Some had coffee, some hot cocoa, and some water. They had their notebooks open and pens ready. It was time to finish up the learning part of the retreat.
“I used to do this session on Saturday afternoon before our dinner, but then you had no time to finish up any thoughts that this session brought up. This session isn’t here to make sure you hit your goals this week.” Cat passed out the original sheets they’d done Monday morning to each attendee. She had copies in her office for future planning processes. “Even if you didn’t hit your goals, we need to talk about ways you can take the retreat home.”
“I can just quit my job and move in here. I’m sure I can find a way to pay for my keep.” Pixie raised her hand. “Shauna can teach me to cook.”
“I’ve tasted your cooking. I’m not sure even Shauna can help you,” Deek teased and got a pen thrown at him for his effort.
“They say there’s no bad ideas in brainstorming, but let’s frame out the guidelines a little better.” Cat smiled at Pixie. She was going to miss this group. Cat stood and grabbed one of the markers. “Without any of you staying here forever, what are some ways you can take this retreat home with you and make sure your writing self has a seat at your table. So to speak.”
Ideas started flowing then and Cat wrote them on the board as they floated up from the guests. “Write every day. Set aside a writing desk or area. Find friends to sprint with when needed. Trust your muse. Write when you’re not inspired. Write with a timer. Keep a word count. Try new things.”
Deek held up his hand. “I think we’re all in one except Dalton, but I’d like to add join a writing group.”
“Dude, my entire college experience is a writing group.” Dalton turned toward him. “What else do you want from me?”
Cat jumped in. “I see what Deek’s saying. Dalton, in your classes, you’re writing poetry or analyzing writing. If you really want to finish this paranormal book, you need a group where you can talk about the fiction writing. It can’t be a secret.”
Dalton squirmed in his chair. “I don’t know. If the department found out, they’d make fun of me. Maybe worse.”
“Maybe. But as long as you’re doing the work, they can’t mess with your scholarship. What about Tammy’s writers’ group? Stephen, you’re in that. Would Dalton being there raise red flags for anyone?”
Stephen shook his head. “They’re all really nice. They knew about Harriet and her not wanting me to write. And they kept my secret. Most of the people there don’t work at Covington. But some of us, like Jessi Lancaster and me, we have spouses at Covington. It’s a joke with us that we’re like a secret gathering.”
“Jessi Lancaster? Todd, Professor Lancaster’s wife?” Cat tried to make her voice sound normal, but this was another reason Todd had been at the party.
“Yeah. Neither he nor Harriet were excited to attend the party, but I guess we both were pretty persuasive. At least they had each other to complain to while the rest of us had fun.” Stephen turned back to Dalton. “We meet on Wednesday nights at seven. Come try it out. If you don’t like it or feel comfortable, you can leave, but I think you’ll love it. It’s good to have people who understand you.”
Cat wrote down Deek’s suggestion and then opened the floor again. “Other ways?”
“Goal setting,” Cari added. “I’m pretty driven and I thought I was getting stuff done, but when I made a specific word count goal for each day, no matter what, it made a huge difference in my output.”
They continued for a few more minutes, then Cat handed out another piece of paper. “This is your contract with future you. Write down at least three things you’re going to do starting on Monday to keep experiencing the retreat process at home. Writing them as goals will give you better control of when you’ve met them and you can make new ones. You should review your goals at least weekly and adjust monthly.”
“But word count is daily, right?” Pixie frowned at the paper.
Cat shrugged. “Maybe. If you have a job where you can’t write certain days, maybe your count is weekly so you can carve out little bits of time during the day or the week. It all depends on your schedule.”
“And how bad you want it,” Dalton said. He stared at the paper. “It’s like we’re building our own writing class where we make the rules and grade ourselves. I can be in school forever without paying tuition or getting student loans.”
Cat laughed at the imagery but nodded. “The best thing about being a writer is you get to be a lifetime learner. Publishing changes, book trends change, you change. And it’s all reflected in your writing. Dalton’s right, get ready to have homework for the rest of your life.”
“Some people would hate that,” Deek said as he wrote down his goals. “For me, it sounds like heaven. So who’s wrong?”
“Neither one of you. You both just found your passion,” Cat said.
The evening continued with a few rounds of writing sprints. After the second one, Cat felt worn out and called it a night. As she made her way out of the room, Stephen called her name and met up with her in the hallway.
“I just wanted you to know that Harriet’s funeral is tomorrow at nine so I’ll be out of the retreat for most of the morning. I’m not doing a wake at the house but there’s a reception thing at the church after the service that I’ll need to attend. You guys are welcome to come but you don’t have to. I told the group about it earlier and asked them not to come on my behalf. I’d rather spend time with them here tomorrow afternoon talking about writing and life. The funeral, well, it’s about Harriet.” He wiped a spare tear from his face. “Does that make sense?”
“We’ll be there and represent the retreat for you.” Cat placed her hand on Stephen’s arm. “You’ve been really strong here considering all you’ve gone through.”
“Besides being a horrible person to you the other day.” Stephen smiled and nodded. “I think I kept it together pretty well. And thanks for the after the retreat plan. This is going to be my lifeline once I go back to our house.”
“You’re always welcome here for a cup of coffee and some writing talk if you need it,” Cat added.
Stephen turned back to the living room. “I might take you up on that. Anyway, I need to get in there before they start without me. They hate it that I can write faster than any of them.”
Cat went into the kitchen to see if Shauna and Seth were there. As she suspected, they were both there waiting for her group to finish.
“How did it go?” Shauna asked.
“Good. We’ve almost got another retreat in the bag.” Cat went to the stove and made herself a cup of tea. “Do you want to go to Harriet’s funeral tomorrow with me? Stephen just asked if we could make it.”
“Are we going to support Stephen or look for possible suspects?” Seth asked.
Cat sat down with her cup. She dumped the bag back and forth several times as she thought about the answer. Finally, she decided to be honest. “Both?”
15
Uncle Pete was already at the church when Cat and Shauna came into the vestibule the next morning. He excused himself from the conversation with Mark the funeral home director who was also the county coroner. Mark waved at Cat and Shauna, then disappeared into a doorway that must have led to a separate room.
Cat scanned the small crowd but didn’t see Stephen. Todd Lancaster was on the other side of the room, standing with the woman who Stephen had identified as Todd’s wife, by his side. He was talking to the dean. They looked up and saw Cat watching them. Again, she got a slight smile from the men and a wave before Todd took his wife’s arm and the trio disappeared into the chapel.
“Man, I’m just clearing out the room,” Cat muttered before her uncle got close. Shauna frowned and looked around but Cat could tell she hadn’t seen the funeral director or the Covington group. “Uncle Pete, I’m glad to see a friendly face. Stephen asked us to come, but I don’t see him anywhere.”
“He’s in a room with the body— I mean, saying goodbye to his wife.” Uncle Pete groaned. “It’s hard to change up the terminology when I’m not on the job.”
“I won’t tell anyone.” She hugged him. “You look tired. Did you hire anyone yet?”
“I’ve got a temp settled in but that woman had rearranged everything and took our ordering process off automatic restocking, so the new girl has had to go through and set everything back the way it was. That will teach me to release control over things without making sure the new hire is going to stay.”
“And not be crazy about you,” Shauna added. “Pete, you just have to realize you’re a catch. Especially for women of a certain age looking for a partner who isn’t hanging at the bar or running in every fun run available.”
“Hey, Michael ran in those marathon things,” Cat protested.
Shauna raised her eyebrows. “And look how that turned out.”
Cat laughed, then covered her mouth when people looked over at her. “Not because he liked to run. Anyway, Uncle Pete, I’m glad you got her out of there before she could do some real damage to your relationship. I like Shirley.”
“Funny thing, I do too.” He held up a hand, then dug in his pocket, pulling out a baggie with what looked like a diamond earring inside. “The crime lab boys found this in the barn. I just talked to Stephen, and he said Harriet didn’t like posts. She was more of a dangling earring type. And, he knows she had these black caldrons on Saturday night to go with the costume. Is this either of yours?”
Cat reached up to make sure both the diamonds that Seth had given her for Christmas a few years ago were still in her ears. “I only have one pair of diamond earrings and I’m wearing them right now. Shauna?”
She peered at the diamond. “The ones that Kevin gave me are in my safety deposit box. I have some lab cut ones I wear occasionally, but they are round cut. These are marquise cut. Not mine.” Shauna had been engaged to Kevin a few years ago. The man had everything, but he’d been killed right after they’d announced their engagement.
“I suppose Seth hasn’t been bringing women over to the barn, lately, has he?” Uncle Pete took the baggie back.
“What am I being blamed for now?” Seth stepped next to Cat and held out his hand. “I was parking the car. Nice to see you, Pete.”
“Seth.” Pete shook his hand. “You don’t know where this earring belongs, do you?”
Seth took the baggie and peered at it. He glanced at Cat who shook her head. “It’s not really my style.”
