by Ellery Adams
“The Gingerbread House. How may I help you?”
“It’s Nora. I know you’re baking, but are you serving customers yet?”
She heard the sound of a door shutting and Hester said, “That slamming noise is me putting the cinnamon rolls in to bake. They’re the last things I make before I unlock the door. I love to serve them hot from the oven with the icing cascading down—”
“Hester,” Nora interrupted. “Fenton Greer was murdered last night.”
“What?” Hester cried. And then, “Where? How?”
Nora returned her ice pack to the freezer. “All I can tell you is that he was found at the Miracle Springs Pools and that Estella was taken into custody.”
Hester drew in a shallow breath and held on to it without letting go.
“I know,” Nora said softly. “I felt the same way. But we’ll help her, Hester. You, me, and June. Can you work some magic with your scones? Or those cinnamon buns? Get the sheriff or his deputies to share some of the details of the crime with you? The town paper will be sniffing around those law boys too. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole gang ends up in your bakery. Keep your ears open, Hester. Our best chance of freeing Estella is by offering up the real killer on a silver platter.”
“But how will Estella survive in the meantime?” Hester whispered. “In a cell? Think about it. I doubt she’s ever been separated from her hair dryer or makeup case. She probably has satin sheets on her bed and a chenille blanket on her sofa for when she watches TV. How is she going to survive a night in jail, let alone any longer than that?”
Nora suppressed an urge to snap at Hester. At times, her younger friend seemed like an old soul. But there were other times when her curiously naïve remarks rubbed Nora the wrong way. “Estella’s made of tough stuff,” she said. “We all are.”
Later, as Nora showered, she hoped what she’d told Hester would prove to be true. It was one thing to talk about strength, but to actually be strong in the face of hardship—that was a different story. And yet Nora had drawn courage from words before. She’d turned to books again and again to see her through the worst of days. They were waiting for her now. Rows of books. Stacks and piles of books. Just thinking of the rainbow of colored covers, myriad typefaces, leather bindings, and the occasional flash of gilt lettering allowed Nora to relax. The books in her shop weren’t merely things. They were gifts wrapped in imagination, inspiration, excitement, pain, and heartache. Gifts given by thousands of writers. Gifts just waiting to be opened.
With this thought in mind, Nora dressed and hurried up the narrow path leading from Caboose Cottage to Miracle Books. She barely had time to let herself in the back entrance and unlock the front door before June called.
“For the first time since this day from hell began, I feel like we’ve caught a break,” she began. “Jedediah was one of two paramedics who responded to the nine-one-one call from the thermal pools last night. Which means he transported Fenton’s body to the morgue.”
“What about the scene?” Nora asked, swallowing the unfamiliar lump that had formed in her throat at the sound of Jedediah’s name. “Were you able to see anything?”
“Not a peep.” June didn’t bother masking her disappointment. “My manager, who is not a small woman, stood outside the doors with a hand on her hip. She used her other hand to wave a guest towel at anyone who dared to get too close. She flicked it at people like they were flies at a barbecue. I tried to sneak in the side entrance—I think of it as Estella’s entrance now—but when I saw a deputy coming out, I hightailed it behind a bush and stayed hidden until I could get back up to the lodge. I’m waiting for Bob to come on duty. He’ll want to help Estella and I think we can trust him, don’t you?”
Nora hesitated. “I don’t know, June. I got good vibes from him the other night, but what does that mean? Once, I knew a man so well that I could predict the words he’d speak.” She felt a knife-twist in her stomach as she remembered the moment she’d found out that her husband had been living a double life. “As it turned out, I was wrong to have believed anything he said. So when it comes to trusting people, my automatic response these days is that it’s better not to. Except for . . .” Nora glanced down to see that she was bending a paperback so violently that she’d not only broken its spine, she’d also crinkled its glossy new cover. She’d have to sell it as a used book now.
“I know,” June said gently. “You’re trying to trust the three of us. And you’ll get there. As for me, I need coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. I hope Bob can make me stronger stuff than they serve at the lodge restaurants. I always hear the guests griping about how weak it is.”
“Well, if he doesn’t, drop by later and I’ll brew you some.”
Putting the phone aside, Nora ran the edge of a ruler over the book in an attempt to smooth out the wrinkles she’d made. Her efforts were fruitless. “Sorry,” she said, addressing the paperback. Shoving her phone in her back pocket, she collected the book—a how-to guide on using natural supplements as a means of achieving happiness—and headed to the health and medicine section.
Nora threaded her way around the antiques, art, and coffee table categories, gathering strays while she walked. The sleigh bells rang, signaling the arrival of a customer, and Nora called out a polite hello.
She was just reaching up to reshelf the natural-supplement guide when a man’s voice said, “Are you sure that belongs here?”
The book, which had been perched on the edge of the shelf like a skier facing a downhill slope, took the plunge. It skittered to the left, avoiding Nora’s hand as though it were a mogul made of flesh, and plummeted to the floor. When it struck, the cover spread open and Nora was reminded of a bird preparing for flight. Only this bird was broken.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Jedediah Craig gingerly took the paperback off the floor, cradling it by the spine like a bibliophile holding a rare tome with a vellum cover and marbled fore edges.
Nora reached for the damaged book. “I’ve been abusing this poor thing all morning. We’re some pair.” Avoiding Jed’s gaze, she asked, “Why did you ask me if it belonged here?”
“Because you shelve the herbal remedies with medicine.” After scanning the titles for several seconds, Jed pulled a book called The Encyclopedia of Natural Medicine off the shelf. “But I was just teasing.” He sounded contrite. “Just because I’ve been trained to use certain methods doesn’t mean I’m not open to other approaches to medicine. I’d never knock holistic healing or any other kind of healing, for that matter. Everyone’s pain is unique. Their healing usually is too. Speaking of which, how’s your ankle?”
“Tender,” Nora said, feeling acutely aware of how close she and Jed were standing and of how his gaze had slowly traveled down her body to rest on her injured foot. “I can get around well enough, though.” Eager to take the focus off her body, she pointed at the book in his hands. “Are you a reader? I don’t think you’ve been in my shop before.”
“Every time I drive by in the ambulance, I fantasize about pulling over and coming inside, but I suspect that my customers wouldn’t appreciate that.” He flashed Nora the briefest of smiles. “I moved to Miracle Springs over a month ago. Most of my stuff is still in boxes piled in my living room. I’ve been working crazy shifts from the moment I got here.”
After replacing the book, Jed’s gaze traveled to the next set of shelves, which housed an eclectic array of titles for pet owners. “I don’t usually follow up on patients at their place of business, but this gave me an excuse to finally come in and browse. I was hoping you had something to help me with Henry Higgins.”
Nora waited for Jed to elaborate, but he seemed distracted by a book on pet massage. “Are you referring to the doctor from Pygmalion?”
“What?” Jed looked at her in confusion and then laughed. “I’ve heard of that play. But no. Henry Higgins is my dog and I named him after the character in My Fair Lady. It’s my mom’s favorite musical. She’s the one stuck taking care o
f my big guy until my shifts settle down. Another paramedic is supposed to join our crew next month. Until then, it’ll be all work and no unpacked boxes for me.”
I knew there had to be something wrong with him, Nora thought. He’s a mama’s boy.
“What kind of help do you need with Henry Higgins?” Nora liked the name. She could picture a smart, well-groomed canine like a Standard Poodle or Weimaraner sitting on his haunches next to Jed’s chair, patiently waiting to go for a walk. “I guess I should ask his breed too. Not that I’m a dog expert or anything. I’m not. I had a black Lab when I was a kid, but that’s the extent of my experience.”
“You’re missing out. Dogs are amazing. Cats too,” Jed said. “And to answer your question, Henry Higgins is a Rhodesian ridgeback.” Seeing Nora’s blank expression, he grabbed a book on dog breeds and flipped to the Rs. “Don’t be fooled by the British name mine has. These dogs originated in Africa. They were so brave that they were known to keep lions at bay. See?”
Accepting the proffered book, Nora examined an illustration of a sleek, muscular dog with roan-colored fur baring its teeth at a male lion. On the next page, there was a photograph highlighting the breed’s famed ridge of hair, which ran down its back in the opposite direction from the rest of its coat, and another, larger image of a Rhodesian ridgeback running along a beach.
“They’re beautiful,” Nora said. “Their coats are like sand lit by the setting sun. Golden wheat and roan red.”
The smile Jed turned on her was shy this time. “Your words are beautiful. But I wish you hadn’t mentioned the beach. It makes me wonder if I was right to move away from the coast.”
Nora saw her opportunity to engage Jed in a longer conversation. If she could coax him into small talk about inconsequential things, she might be able to get him to share a few crucial details about Fenton Greer’s death.
Admit it, you’re curious about this man, she thought.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked. “While I brew a fresh pot, you could explain what’s going on with Henry Higgins.”
Nora was surprised by the relief that washed over Jed’s features. It was obvious that he’d expected her to question him about his past and when she hadn’t, he’d visibly relaxed. Nora knew the feeling all too well.
“I’d love coffee,” he said. “In fact, if I could just run down to the station and grab an IV bag, I’ll give myself a transfusion.”
“A real addict, then?”
Jed nodded. “Not looking to be cured, either.” He followed Nora to the ticket booth. “I’ll tell you about Henry Higgins if you promise to ice and elevate after I pay for my coffee. Deal?”
“Deal,” Nora agreed. “What’ll it be?”
Jed studied the menu board. “An Ernest Hemingway, please.”
Nora brewed a fresh pot of dark roast and listened to the sleigh bells ring again. As Jed began his story of how he’d adopted Henry Higgins from a rescue organization specializing in animals with special needs, Nora served a Louisa May Alcott and a Jack London to a husband and wife. The same couple assured her that they were in need of no assistance and planned to browse while enjoying their coffee.
Once they’d moved off, Nora focused on Jed again. “What kind of special needs?”
“Ice and elevate,” he reminded her.
“Yes, sir.” Nora collected her ice pack and joined Jed by the circle of chairs that had become the designated meeting place for the Secret, Book, and Scone Society. Seeing that he’d selected Estella’s chair gave Nora a moment’s pause. However, she quickly recovered and took a lavender throw pillow embroidered with JUST ONE MORE CHAPTER in decorative plum script from June’s chair. Using the pillow to pad the coffee table, she raised her right foot and placed the ice pack across her swollen ankle.
Jed wasn’t pleased by what he saw. “You have some significant bruising.”
“I’ve always bruised easily. And if it starts feeling worse, there’s someone I can call.” She waited a heartbeat before adding, “Right?”
“Right,” he said.
Nora repeated her question from earlier. “What kind of special needs does Henry Higgins have?”
“He sustained injuries to his eyes when he was a puppy,” Jed replied. “He has anxiety issues as well. Not the more common ones, like fear of thunder or fireworks. Or separation issues. His are unusual. He’s more like a human in his troubles. I need to find a way to help him get out of his doggy head so he can relax.”
“Was he born with the eye injuries or did they happen later?”
The muscles in Jed’s jaw tensed and Nora could practically feel him clamping his teeth together. A second ago, he’d been easygoing and relaxed. Now he was stiff and guarded. “Later,” he said tersely. “There was an incident. He was lucky to have survived.”
Nora knew, without his having to say a word, that Jed had been present for the incident. She also knew that Henry Higgins hadn’t been the only creature wounded by the event. “I have one book on using healing massage on your dog and another on the correlation between canine health and a natural diet. Both are favorites of Dr. Mack, our local vet. As for other ideas, I’d have to peruse my shelves a bit longer. Also—and forgive me if this is too forward—is there a chance that Henry Higgins has picked up additional anxiety from another source? Like you? Or your mom?”
Jed didn’t respond. He suddenly became very interested in the mug Nora had selected for him. It featured the text BE CAREFUL OR YOU’LL FIND OUT WHAT MY SUPERPOWER IS.
After saluting her with the mug, he said, “Thank you for not giving me a fireman mug. Those guys get enough attention as it is. Don’t get me wrong. They deserve plenty of praise. They work their asses off, but you don’t see women buying calendars of shirtless paramedics, do you? We’ll never be as sexy, no matter how many lives we save.”
Nora knew Jed was trying to deflect her question about Henry Higgins. Somehow, he was connected to the accident that had injured his dog. Pushing him on the matter would only drive him away, and Nora needed him to stay.
“I don’t know about that. Firemen have to be clean-shaven,” Nora said casually. “I like a little bristle on a man.” She pointed at his mug. “Can I top you off? I’m ready to put this ice back in the freezer.”
“Let me.” Jed carried the ice pack and the mugs to the ticket window. Nora served him a refill of coffee. He then promised to browse while she tended to other customers.
What Nora didn’t realize until the sleigh bells began to ring more and more frequently, was that the closing of the thermal pools was driving out-of-towners through the front door of Miracle Books. With their plans to soak in the warm waters canceled, they’d headed downtown for shopping excursions instead, and Nora was loading books and shelf enhancers into bags before limping to the ticket window to serve coffee as quickly as she could.
“Do you have any help?” Jed asked her at one point.
“Can’t afford any,” Nora replied, shocking herself by her honesty. “Listen, Jed. I’m sorry that I don’t have time to search for your titles right now. Could we meet later? I could show you what I had in mind when things calm down a little.”
Jed, who had several books tucked under his arm, seemed torn. On one hand, there was something about the way he leaned close to her that spoke of his wanting to see her again. On the other hand, he was clearly reluctant to discuss his dog’s injuries again. “Back here, you mean?”
“Or we could sit on the deck at my house,” Nora suggested, even more stunned by this statement than by her previous one. “It’s a nice spot, especially in the evening. I live right behind the shop.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, feeling as awkward as a thirteen-year-old girl.
“That sounds good, thanks,” Jed said, smiling warmly at her. “I’d like to bring some wine. What’s your poison?” His smile abruptly vanished and he shook his head. “Poor choice of words. Sorry.”
Nora stared at him. “I’m not sure why you’re apologizing. Does this have so
mething to do with what happened to Fenton Greer?”
Jed’s gaze slid away, but not for long. “I heard your friend was taken in for questioning. That must be really hard.”
So much for keeping our society secret, Nora thought before she remembered that Jed had helped her out to June’s car after she’d twisted her ankle. Because of that, he’d seen June, Hester, and Estella. The moment June had driven off, the old lodge employee had probably given Jed a biographical sketch on each of them, whether or not Jed had asked for one. That was life in Miracle Springs.
“She didn’t do it,” Nora said, unable to hide her fear for Estella. That fear expressed itself in anger. It filled Nora’s eyes with thunderclouds and made her scars pulse like sheet lightning. “What did he die of? Greer?”
Jed was taken aback by the intensity in her voice. “I can’t make that determination. The ME—”
“What did you see?” Nora pressed. “What will go in your report?”
“I can’t . . .” Jed began, and trailed off. They both knew that he couldn’t go around spouting theories on Fenton Greer’s cause of death.
Nora could see that she’d been far too aggressive. She, who’d always kept her emotions in check, had failed to do so with Jed. There was something about him that coaxed her into honesty. That scared her.
Silence grew between them. It yawned wider and darker, forming a cave mouth, until Jed finally spoke. “If you want to cancel our plans for later, I understand. I wish I could tell you what you’d like to know, but I need this job. And in a way, I’ve already said too much.”
The pick your poison comment, Nora thought. Fenton was poisoned. But that hardly helps. There are hundreds of poisons. Maybe thousands.
“Estella didn’t do it,” she repeated.
As the words dangled in the air like balloons without enough helium to rise, Nora considered how poison had long been seen as the female murder weapon of choice.
Am I trying to convince Jed of Estella’s innocence? she wondered. Or myself?