The Ghost and the Mystery Writer by Anna J. McIntyre Page A

sofa, Lily dashed to the window and looked outside. A police car had just parked in front of the house, and she spied Danielle’s red Ford Flex turning into the side driveway.
    â€œOh, you’re trying to tell me Dani is back. Sorry, I guess I can be dense.”
    The spotting scope moved again, nodding up and down.
    Lily glared at where she imagined Walt stood. “You don’t have to agree with me.” Turning her attention back to the window, she watched as MacDonald got from the police car and started toward the walkway leading to the front door.
    â€œI wonder why the chief came back with her. You think he’s going to take Hillary in?”

    I f the prospect of an interview with the police chief was making Hillary Hemmingway nervous, Walt thought she was doing an excellent job concealing her emotions. In his opinion, she looked more grandmotherly than like a bestselling mystery author. But he had never known a mystery author before, so he wasn’t certain what one was supposed to look like.
    Walt sat on the edge of the small desk in the parlor and watched as Hillary settled onto the sofa. MacDonald took a seat on the chair facing her.
    â€œWhat’s this about, Chief MacDonald?” Hillary asked in a calm tone.
    â€œI understand you were at the Pier Café when Jolene Carmichael was murdered.”
    â€œWas that the woman’s name?” Hillary asked. “Now that you mention it, I think Danielle told me…or did I read it in the paper?”
    â€œI was under the impression you knew her.” MacDonald studied Hillary’s expression.
    â€œThe woman who was murdered?” Hillary shook her head. “Not that I know of, although the name is familiar, but then I believe Danielle mentioned it. I’m not very good with names.” She flashed him a smile.
    â€œYou knew all about her murder,” Walt scoffed.
    â€œAccording to witnesses, when she came into the Pier Café before her murder, she stopped and talked to you.”
    Hillary gasped. “The woman who was murdered was in the restaurant that night?”
    â€œYes, and she stopped at your table. You two exchanged words.”
    â€œOh my, was that nice woman the one who was killed?” Hillary paused a moment, her forehead drawn into a frown. Finally, she said, “Now that you mention it, there was something familiar about her. I don’t remember thinking it at the time, but now that you mention it…”
    â€œBut you talked to her?”
    â€œYes. She stopped by my table. Asked me what kind of pie I was eating.”
    â€œPie?”
    â€œShe asked me if it was good, what kind it was. I assumed she was thinking of getting pie herself and wanted to know if I liked the piece I was eating. Oh my, you say she’s the one who was killed?”
    â€œSo you didn’t know Jolene Carmichael?”
    â€œNo. Not personally. She was the one who found those gold coins across the street, wasn’t she?”
    â€œYes, that was her. So you never met Jolene before that evening at Pier Café?” the chief asked.
    â€œDidn’t I already answer that question? I haven’t been in Frederickport long, and I haven’t met that many people since I got here.”
    â€œWhy were you at Pier Café that night?”
    â€œHaving pie. Didn’t I just say that?” Hillary asked.
    â€œIt was rather late to be out alone, wasn’t it? Or perhaps you weren’t alone?” MacDonald studied Hillary.
    â€œI suppose it was late, but I feel safe in Frederickport. Of course…now…now with there having been a murder, I suppose that was foolish of me.”
    â€œCan you tell me about that night?”
    â€œOh…of course. You’re wondering if I saw anything. Anything that might help you solve the murder.”
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œI suppose I might have seen something that I wasn’t aware of seeing.” Hillary leaned forward and