Advance Praise “ Jill Orr’s delightful, laugh-out-loud debut is the perfect mix of mystery, humor, and romance, anchored by an endearing heroine you can’t help but root for. A fun, fast- paced read with a satisfying mystery at its heart. Perfect for fans of Janet Evanovich.” — Laura McHugh, award-winning author of Arrowood and The Weight of Blood “ Riley ‘Bless -Her-Heart’ Ellison is a breath of fresh air—a funny, empathic, Millennial heroine. She kept me turning the pages well into the night.” — Susan M. Boyer, USA TODAY–bestselling author of the Liz Talbot mystery series “Who knew obituaries could be this much fun?” — Gretchen Archer, USA TODAY–bestselling author of the Davis Way Crime Caper series “ Jill Orr’s Tuttle Corner is absolutely charming, and you’ll want to hang out more in this Virginian small town with Riley and her cast of friends. The methodical local reporter, Will Holman, is a standout, and here’s hoping he will appear in more of Riley’s mystery adventures. Fans of Hannah Dennison’s Vicky Hill series will devour this debut!” — Naomi Hirahara, Edgar Award–winning author of the Mas Arai and Ellie Rush mystery series “An extremely fun read! Regina H., Personal Romance Concierge, may be my favorite new literary character of the decade.” — Anne Flett-Giordano, author of Marry, Kiss, Kill and Emmy-winning writer of Mom, Frasier, and Desperate Housewives “ Jill Orr will make you laugh, make you think, and steam up your reading glasses with this funny, smart, and romantic mystery debut. The Good Byline is an engaging story that will keep readers wondering whodunit and how’d-they-do- it until the very end.” —Diane Kelly, award-winning author of the Death & Taxes and Paw Enforcement mysteries “ In this irresistible page-turner, Jill Orr delivers a funny, smartly written mystery featuring a charming heroine and appealing setting. I can’t wait to join Millennial Riley Ellison on future adventures—and misadventures!” — Ellen Byron, author of Body on the Bayou and Plantation Shudders The Good Byline A Riley Ellison Mystery By Jill Orr Prospect Park Books Copyright © 2017 by Jill Orr All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialogue, and all names and characters, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. With a few exceptions, all places are also products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Published by Prospect Park Books 2359 Lincoln Avenue Altadena, California 91001 www.prospectparkbooks.com Distributed by Consortium Book Sales & Distribution www.cbsd.com Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Orr, Jill, author. Title: The good byline : a Riley Ellison mystery / by Jill Orr. Other titles: Riley Ellison mystery Description: Altadena, California : Prospect Park Books, 2017. Identifiers: LCCN 2016031253 (print) | LCCN 2016039299 (ebook) | ISBN 9781938849916 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781938849923 Subjects: LCSH: Women journalists--Fiction. | Female friendship--Fiction. | Murder--Investigation--Fiction. | Triangles (Interpersonal relations)--Fiction. | Virginia--Fiction. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction. | Love stories. Classification: LCC PS3615.R58846 G66 2017 (print) | LCC PS3615.R58846 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016031253 Cover design by Susan Olinsky; illustration by Nancy Nimoy Book layout and design by Amy Inouye, Future Studio Printed in the United States of America To Jimmy, for keeping the champagne on ice... all these years Is there room for humor in today’s obituary? “ I think so. The obits section is quite misun- derstood. People have a primal fear of death, but 98 percent of the obit has nothing to do with death, but with life. There are maybe two sentences in there about when or where the guy died, and with the rest, you let the person’s life guide the treatment. We like to say it’s the jolliest department in the paper.” —MARGALIT FOX, a senior writer for The New York Times, from an interview in The Paris Review, September 23, 2014 Chapter 1 othing says “You’re going to die alone” like being asked to judge the three-legged race at the Tuttle NCorner Johnnycake Festival because you’re the only one without a partner. Even Mrs. Winterthorne, who had to be at least 127 years old and in a wheelchair, signed up with her nurse, Faye. Never mind that Faye was paid to be there or that she would end up with a shattered pinky toe from old Winterthorne rolling over her repeatedly for twen- ty-five yards, the point is that I didn’t even have someone I could pay to be my partner, let alone someone who’d take a broken toe for me. The sad fact was that I was twenty-four years old and undeniably, catastrophically, alone. And the worst part was that everyone in Tuttle Corner knew why. The day my boyfriend of seven years left me to go find himself, the good people of Tuttle unofficially changed my name from Riley Ellison to Riley Bless-Her-Heart. “Did you hear the Sanford boy left her without an explanation? Poor Riley, bless her heart.” “She’d been so sure they were headed down the aisle...bless her heart.” “It’s been six months and the poor dear can’t seem to get over it. Bless. Her. Heart.” People in Tuttle Corner love to bless your heart. It’s code for anything from an expression of sympathy to a vicious insult, sometimes both at the same time. But most often, this is what people say when they want to call 8 The Good Byline you pathetic but their strict adherence to the Southern be-polite-or-die code won’t let them say that. Not to your face anyway. I knew that in my case when people blessed my heart they mostly meant it in the nice way, the snap- out-of-it-honey way. Which I guess was fair enough. I hadn’t exactly been killing it in the having-a-life department since Ryan left. Besides, you weren’t really in trouble in Tuttle Corner until people start saying that they’ll pray for you. So when I arrived at the festival alone, it took Charlotte Van Stone approximately three seconds to ask if I would judge the race. She was in a panic because Millie Hedron, Tuttle’s most famous spinster and longtime contest judge, had to cancel when one of her Persian cats rolled in a patch of burrs. Apparently the shaving process had been trau- matic for them both. Charlotte zeroed in on me because, as she put it, “Surely you won’t be participating this year?” Then she put a hand over her enormous left breast and added, “Bless your heart.” The festival was as hot and crowded as ever, but that didn’t stop the entire town from turning up. The sun beat down on the white tents and colonial flags that hung on ropes between trees. Vendors sold cornhusk dolls. My par- ents, Skip and Jeanie, otherwise known as the Rainbow Connection, played guitar and sang corncake-themed songs on the main stage, delighting the under-six set with their “corny” puns. And Landry’s General Store (est. 1781) churned a large vat of kettle corn, which permeated the air with its sticky-sweet scent. These were the sights and sounds and smells of my childhood, as familiar and com- forting as an old pair of jeans. It was almost time for the three-legged race, so I be- gan my walk over to the field. On the way I saw my middle school social studies teacher, Mr. Monroe, talking with a Jill Orr 9 girl named Anna, who had been a few years ahead of me in school. She was holding a baby on her hip and breaking off pieces of pink cotton candy for a small girl standing next to them. I smiled and waved at Anna, who sort of half-smiled like she was trying to place me but then looked away when the baby started fussing. I turned my wave into an awkward pretense of itching my neck. Born and raised right here in Tuttle County, I techni- cally knew everyone in town. I could tell you who was kin to whom, which marriages had created which family trees, and who had lived in which houses three generations deep. But knowing people and having friends are two very dif- ferent things. It’s funny, as they can feel quite similar, and yet sometimes you don’t realize how alone you are until your world falls apart and you have no one to turn to except your parents (who are contractually obligated to love you no matter what). The truth is that I had nobody to blame but myself for my current friendless state. Seven years ago, when Ryan Sanford charmed his way into my life, I had allowed all my other friendships to fall away. I didn’t mean for it to hap- pen; he was just the kind of guy who soaked up attention like one of those cloths that can hold six times its weight in water. He took all I had, and I gave it freely because being with Ryan felt like standing in the sun. He radiated confi- dence and charisma, two things I lacked as a young girl.