14th Deadly Sin

CHAPTER 46

CINDY WAS BEING treated like a celebrity in a bookstore called Book Revue on Long Island, New York.

This part—the book signings, the people applauding her—she hadn’t thought about this at all during the years she’d spent thinking about writing a book.

She had staked out psycho killers in sketchy areas, had spent nights in rough motels or in her car, had worked nights and weekends and pestered cops, even ones she loved, for information that would become a great story, possibly an exclusive one. She had worked the crime desk for the challenge of finding an angle that the police didn’t have, for the rush of turning her hand-mined facts into dramatic prose.

It had been a nonstop thrill, and now there was this.

In a time when bookstores were going virtual, this one was what a real bookstore still looked like in her dreams. There were a blue-and-white-checked floor, thousands of linear feet of bookshelves, comfortable nooks for people to sit and read in, and an inviting performance space where writers could give readings and sign books.

The owner of Book Revue, Bob Klein, was coming over to talk to her now. Bob was a good-looking man in his fifties wearing glasses, a starched shirt, and a smart tan suit.

“Cindy, I’ve got open cartons under your table. I’ll test the microphone for you when you’re ready.”

There was a rope line leading to a table with a blowup of her picture on an easel behind it, and another easel holding a poster of her book jacket. A stack of books rested on the table with a line of pens. And people were coming into the store in response to the ad and were filling up the chairs, easily twenty women, who lit up when they recognized her from her picture.

She was talking to Bob when her phone rang.

Cindy answered the call and said, “Richie, I’m at Book Revue.”

“Hey, sweetie, hang on.”

She heard him say, “I’ll be back in a second, Mr. Valdeen. Sit tight.”

A door closed; then Richie was back.

“Sorry. Got a couple of mutts could have some information on this bloodbath in a drug lab.”

“You want to speak later?” Cindy said.

“No, I’m good. So how did it go? Your speech.”

“I’m going on in a couple of minutes.”

Richie said, “You’ll do great. I know that for a fact.”

Cindy sent love and kisses out to San Francisco. And then Bob said to her, “Your fans await.”

Cindy took the lectern to a nice little round of applause. There were twenty-two people there, her world record. She spoke into the microphone.

“Hello, everyone. So nice to see you all here. I’m Cindy Thomas, and I want to tell you about my book, Fish’s Girl. Whatever you think about the love between a man and a woman, you probably never thought that serial murder could bond two people.

“But I’m here to tell you about Randy Fish and Mackie Morales, two savage killers, and their marriage—with child—which was as tight as a marriage can be.”