Murder in the Paperback Parlor by Ellery Adams Page A

Ms. York hadn’t insisted on being interviewed in such a public place.Considering the uproar at this morning’s panel, I thought a private luncheon in the William Faulkner Conference Room would have been preferable, but Ms. York was firm about being
seen
by her fans.”
    The hostess frowned. “She might be
seen
getting stabbed with a butter knife. Judging by the snippets of conversation I’ve overheard since the lunch service began, she’s upset most of these women.”
    â€œThank goodness for Mrs. Hubbard,” Jane said. “It’s as though she knew our guests would be in need of comfort food today. With specials like fried macaroni and cheese, double crust chicken pot pie, shrimp and grits, pecan-peach cobbler, and banana meringue pudding, who could be disgruntled for long?”
    Jane’s prediction turned out to be true. As soon as the food was served, the women’s faces relaxed and their voices softened. The same could not be said of Rosamund, however. Jane was just about to leave the room to attend to several mundane tasks when Rosamund shoved her chair back from the table so roughly that both water goblets overturned. Nigel yelped and leapt to his feet, but not quickly enough. A dark patch spread across the crotch of his khaki pants where the water had soaked through his napkin.
    â€œWe’re done, do you hear me?” he hissed at Rosamund. “It’s over.”
    â€œYou can’t make it without me and you know it.” Rosamund’s mouth twisted into a triumphant snarl. And then, becoming aware of the sudden stillness around her, she turned to address the room at large. “I apologize for disturbing your lunch, ladies.” To Jane’s surprise, her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t tell you how much your support has meant to me over the years, and it’s my deepest hope that your loyalty won’t waver now.”
    And with that, she fled the dining room.
    After her dramatic exit, Jane hurried over to Nigel Poindexter. Grabbing a fresh napkin from one of the empty tables, she offered it to him. “I’m sorry about your lunch,” she said. “Can I get you a fresh plate?”
    Nigel shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m afraid I’ve lost my appetite.”
    Jane accompanied him to the lobby. “It looked like your interview was going quite well. Ms. York seemed downright jolly. I heard her laughing throughout most of your meal. It’s a shame it ended the way it did. Can I do anything to smooth things over?”
    â€œNo. I just need to change my pants and take a break from all of these”—he made a sweeping gesture with his arm, incorporating all of Storyton Hall—“women!”
    Jane let him go. The pressure of trying to keep this particular group of guests satisfied was very taxing. The painful truth was that all four of the celebrity guests, the publicist, and the visiting journalist had the power to damage the resort’s reputation. And none of them seemed happy. The other authors and most of the fans were angry with Rosamund, and now she and Nigel had had a spat. But why?
    â€œDid he press Rosamund about her fans’ reaction to
Eros Steals the Bride
?” Jane wondered aloud. “Maybe she’s genuinely fearful that she’ll lose readers after the book is published.”
    Jane suddenly realized that Nigel hadn’t taken any notes during his interview. He and Rosamund had spoken for over thirty minutes and he hadn’t written a single line. Not only that, but their argument seemed personal, as though it wasn’t the first time they’d had a disagreement.
    Odd
, Jane thought, remembering Nigel’s late-night pacing session outside Rosamund’s guest room door. She was about to share the lunchtime events with Sinclair when she caught sight of a familiar figure heading her way.
    â€œMrs. Pratt!” Jane hailed her friend. “Why, you’re