Murder Goes On Tour

Chapter 3

THREE

The night before.

Vivian looked out the window as the bus pulled into the parking lot. Coit Tower was bathed in light and the lot was filled with folding chairs. A podium had been set up in front of the tower. Joanna had even chartered a tour bus to take attendees to the event. There were banners on both sides of the bus that read:

MURDER TOURS!

Visit San Francisco’s Most Notorious Crime Scenes!

The banners were flanked by police chalk outlines of dead bodies.

Joanna had chosen Coit Tower because it was the site of the first attack by the Zebra Killers, who went on a killing spree in the 1970s, taking fourteen lives. A couple out for a walk one evening near the tower was abducted and the woman was sexually assaulted, then nearly decapitated.

The Murder Tour was a radical departure from the period romance novels that had launched Joanna’s career and brought her critical and commercial success. But while her earlier novels had been best sellers, her later books sold poorly and were panned as tired and formulaic. Some critics had even suggested that Joanna Rorke had lost her touch.

This new book could not have been more different. Vivian thought it was way more exciting than her older novels, which were set in times long past that Joanna thought was boring. Reviewers called it her strongest work in years. Apparently, readers agreed, because the book had already landed on The New York Times Best Sellers list. Vivian had just finished reading The Murder Tour and she was looking forward to hearing Joanna read and sign her copy of the book.

The driver opened the door and the passengers began disembarking. He was in his late 40s, with a long, hard face and salt-and-pepper stubble. He was wearing a uniform and a cigarette dangled from his lips. Vivian stepped off the bus and took a seat in the front row. She was wearing a white top with Breton stripes, navy pants, a blazer and ankle boots.

By the time Joanna stepped up to the podium and began to read, every seat in the Coit Tower lot was taken. From her spot in the front row, Vivian laid eyes on a curvy woman in her late 40s or early 50s, with dark eyes and glossy black hair streaked with gray that tumbled to her shoulders. She wore a black sheath dress that accentuated her curves, high heels and a string of pearls. And she read in a husky voice that reminded Vivian of a femme fatale in the old mysteries and thrillers she watched on TV late at night. Most of all, Joanna had a presence that Vivian could feel but not describe.

Joanna took a few questions after the reading. There were the usual ones about where she got her ideas, did she write at night or during the day, did she outline her books, etc. Then a man in the third row asked her why, having written a series of period romance novels, she had decided to write about a serial killer on the loose in San Francisco? Joanna told him that she needed a change of pace, and was looking forward to writing more thrillers set in the present instead of in the past.

She was about to start signing books when a woman in the back raised her hand.

I wanted to ask you if you’ve ever read a book entitled Tourist Trap?

The woman spoke with a Southern accent. Vivian noticed that the mention of the title seemed to catch Joanna off guard. She gave a tense smile.

No, I’ve never heard of it and haven’t read it.

Of course not. It was never published. I just thought you might have read it in manuscript.

The only manuscripts I read are my own.

That’s probably wise.

The exchange puzzled Vivian. Why would someone ask Joanna if she’d read a book that was never published, and why did it unsettle her? Vivian craned her neck to get a look at the woman, but she was sitting in the last row and she was unable to pick her out in the crowd.

After the reading, Vivian waited in line for Joanna to sign her book. It took only a moment, but when Joanna looked up at Vivian and asked her name, Vivian felt as if they were the only two people there. Was that why she had lingered after most of the attendees had boarded the bus? Pretended to take in the view while Joanna chatted with the host of the event and fans who gathered around to congratulate her?

Later, Vivian would tell herself that Joanna must have sensed that she was waiting for her, because she finally excused herself and walked over to Vivian. Just then the bus driver honked the horn twice, a signal that he was about to leave.

“You’re going to miss your bus,” Joanna said.

“That’s okay. I can get a cab in North Beach.”

“Perhaps you’d rather have a drink with me?” Joanna said.