The Fallen Angels Book Club by R. Franklin James Page B

possible. If I … if we could find the killer, then we’d both be left alone.”
    â€œWhat’s your reason?”
    â€œMy reason? How about dealing with Abby’s death and just plain survival. I’m trying to figure this out before anyone else gets killed—me, for instance. You seem to have a line on everybody. It looks like all of us, well, except for one, are targets for a killer. There have been two murders based on our book selections. We could be next.”
    He took an extra moment to answer. “Right. Okay, I’m game. Are you available this evening? I’ll come over to your house so we can talk.”
    I didn’t like telling people where I lived, but I knew Gene was testing me.
    â€œSure, that’d be fine, but wouldn’t you rather meet at a restaurant? I could eat a little something. How about you?”
    Gene snorted a small laugh. “I’m not that hungry. We can meet at Barnes and Noble. They’re open until eleven. They don’t rush you and there’s a small sandwich and beverage bar. Meet me at seven. It’s not too far from you.”
    How did Gene know that?
    For the rest of the day, I focused on clearing my desk. I left a little before five to beat the traffic. At home I dressed hurriedly so that I could arrive before Gene. When he pulled up, I wanted to be able to jot down his license plate. I didn’t have to wait long. He drove up in his dark green Honda. I took down his plate number and followed him into the store. Intuition told me I could probably take Gene off my suspect list, but I had to make sure before I asked him for help.
    We settled in at the table farthest from the front door. Except for a couple other tables, we had almost the entire lounge area to ourselves.
    â€œUnderstand me,” I said. “I didn’t kill Rory or Abby. Assuming we give you the benefit of doubt, too, that leaves Richard, Rena and Miller.”
    â€œThanks for the insta-trial acquittal.” He shook his head. “So, now what?”
    I leaned forward. “I think we should look at each member one at a time. Go through their backgrounds and find out who has the most on the line.”
    He looked skeptical. “It’s doable, I guess. I have my doubts about our ability to uncover any secrets.”
    â€œWe have to start somewhere.”
    He shook his head and smiled again. “Okay. I’ll show good faith and share first. I have nothing to lose. I’m a columnist for the Herald . I worked there before I went in. My brother is one of the owners, so I didn’t have to lie about my past.”
    I was mildly impressed. I was a Herald subscriber, but I never paid attention to bylines. “They always say hiding in plain sight is the best disguise.”
    Gene suddenly sat straight up. “I am not in disguise. I have never changed my name or tried to hide my conviction. You might be, but I’m certainly not material for a blackmailer. I got caught up in a … in a bribery sting. I was stupid, but I learned.”
    â€œOkay, okay.” My curiosity took over. “So, what do you think you know about me?”
    He put two fingers against his forehead. “Let’s see. Rebecca Hollis Morgan Lynley, born in Alameda, California. Married William Lynley. No children. Divorced after three years. It coincided with a prison term for insurance fraud. Current residence is Montclair.”
    I clenched my teeth in anger. “How dare you violate my privacy.”
    Gene raised his eyebrows. “It’s not private information. It’s all public. I didn’t say I knew where you shopped for clothes. Although, you should consider going a little more upscale.”
    I looked at him in disbelief. After a moment, a smile creased my face. “I’m not a clothes hound like you. How do you know these things?”
    He relaxed. “The stitching on your clothes is a real giveaway—”
    â€œNot my clothes.