Little Bookshop of Murder

by Maggie Blackburn

  Posey looked tired, seemed winded. Summer remembered she wasn’t in good health. Why did she bother herself to come here?

  “It’s good to see you,” Summer said. “Please sit down. Can I get you something? Coffee? Water?’

  “I’m fine darlin’. I won’t stay long.”

  “What’s up?”

  Her smile turned into a frown. “I’m afraid I have bad news. I told you I’d do a reading. And the cards are warning you. Very strongly.”

  Summer stifled a nervous giggle.

  “You may be a bit of a nonbeliever, but I came all the way here because I’ve never seen such a complete and strong warning.”

  Summer swallowed. “Oh, Posey. Why didn’t you just pick up the phone?”

  “I needed to see you in person. I needed to inform you this is serious.” Her voice lowered. “There is someone very close to you who wants to harm you. The same person who killed your mother. Make no mistake about it. She was killed.”

  Summer’s skin prickled. Come on, Summer, this is ridiculous. Isn’t it? She leaned forward. “The cards told you that?”

  “No. The cards told me that you are in danger.”

  “How do you know about Mom?”

  She laughed. “You think I’m a crazy old woman. You’re such a modern, sophisticated woman. Your mom was so proud of you.”

  “Don’t try to change the subject. I need to know.”

  She paused, then took a breath. “There are things in the universe … that make little sense. Unexplainable things.”

  “Posey, I’m losing my patience. If you know something about who killed Mom …”

  “Oh no. All I know is it was someone very close to her.”

  Summer’s heart sank. How awful. “And how do you know this?”

  “She told me.”

  “Come again?”

  “I had a visit from your mother. It was very brief.”

  “But, Posey, Mom is dead.”

  “You know what I mean. Her spirit visited me.”

  Oh dear. Is Posey okay?

  “I had a very vivid dream. Sometimes spirits come through into dreams. She didn’t stay long, and she didn’t get specific enough for my taste. She is worried about you. She wants you to be careful. Her warning was very clear. Along with the cards.”

  “Okay, I’ll be careful,” Summer said. “I thought I had been.” She didn’t believe a word of this. She’d played along because she liked Posey so much. But she wondered if her diabetes had addled Posey’s mind.

  “She also said not to worry about her. She’s fine.”

  “What? She’s dead. How can she be fine?”

  “On the other side. She’s fine.” Posey had a matter-of-fact tone in her voice that unsettled Summer.

  Summer’s stomach twisted into a knot. She didn’t like this conversation. She didn’t want to think of her mother being on the other side. She wanted her here.

  “There’s one more thing,” Posey continued.

  Summer leaned in even further across the desk.

  “She said to tell you to sleep, perchance to dream.” Posey shrugged and laughed. “I have no idea what that means.”

  But Summer felt the blood drain from her face and her body go cold. “How?” she stammered. “What? I don’t understand.”

  Her mom used to kiss her every night at bedtime and had whispered that very phrase to her. A quote from Hamlet.

  “Are you okay?” Posey said.

  Summer couldn’t speak. How had Posey learned this? Had Hildy mentioned it to her? Or had the spirit of Hildy visited Posey?

  “Summer?”

  “I’m sorry, Posey.” Her mouth felt dry. “It’s a bit much. Isn’t it?”

  “I know it is. Your mother and I used to talk about how smart and logical you are. But she hoped that one day you’d see the universe was not just a logical place. It’s full of magic and wonder, and sometimes the inexplicable things are the best things.”

  Summer’s head spun. That definitely sounded like Hildy. She felt she might be beyond words. Summer Merriweather always had words. Words to answer questions. Words to explain. Words to come back with a quip. But words … she was out of them now.

  “I can see you’re struggling, Summer. I know it’s a lot.” Posey stood up and sighed. “I might be as crazy as I seem, but my ways have never failed me. Spirits have always guided me since I was a small child. You need to heed my warning.”

  She started to walk away, then stopped. “One more thing, Summer.” Summer looked up at her. “Your mother says she loves you. Always has. Always will.”

  Tears burned in Summer’s eyes.

  “No reason to cry,” Posey said. “Love turns the universe. And there ain’t no love like mama love.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Shake it off, Summer. You know all of that new-age hippy stuff is nothing more than mumbo jumbo. But how did Posey know about the quote from Hamlet? Maybe her mom had mentioned it to her at some point. The mind is a tricky thing. Memories surfaced at odd times, and especially in dreams. She’d had some dreams about Mom since she’d been home. Wouldn’t it have been odd if she hadn’t?

  She waved off the chill she felt creeping along her spine, but she couldn’t wave off the sudden exhaustion.

  She picked up the photo of her mom and her on what must have been the other side of the island, as it didn’t look familiar at all. They both looked happy and content as they smiled at whoever was holding the camera. Summer didn’t remember that day at all. She was much too young in the photo to have remembered. She set it back down on the desk. Another wave of exhaustion came over her, along with the prickling start of a headache. Time to go home.

  She walked along the boardwalk, past the bells and explosive sounds coming from the arcade, and followed her nose to the hot dog stand. She ordered two to go.

  “Mustard and relish, right?” Wanda winked at her.

  “You remembered me!”

  “Sure. You’re Hildy’s daughter, Summer. Sure was sorry to hear about your mother’s passing.”

  She handed Summer her hot dogs, and Summer paid her. “I’ll never forget your mother stopping here and trying to tell me not to give you any hot dogs. Remember that?” Wanda laughed.

  Summer grinned. “Thank goodness we didn’t listen to her.”

  Wanda drifted off to help other customers lining up as Summer walked away. She felt like a glutton, what with all the good, healthy food back home in the fridge. She just couldn’t resist the hot dogs one more day. They’d been taunting her since her arrival.

  She walked to the end of the boardwalk and continued walking through the sand toward the house.

  The sun was sinking low in the sky, but it was still as hot as blazes. She mulled over her day. Going to the closed yoga place. Talking with her dean. Then Posey’s visit. She respected Posey, one of her mom’s oldest and dearest friends, so Summer had bitten her tongue. Not her forte.

  But if she could do it here, she could do it with her students and other professors, couldn’t she?

  It was extremely hard for her to see students squandering their education. She wasn’t sure how much biting her tongue she could muster.

  As she drew closer and closer to the house, it came into view behind the clumps of seagrass and sand dunes. A gust of warmth spread through her chest. Her home.

  This place where she’d grown up. This place that she’d always despised. Now it stood like a beacon of warmth and comfort. Odd, that.

  She walked the path to the house and opened the front door to her aunt Agatha and Piper sitting in the kitchen.

  “Hello! I’m sorry—I didn’t know you were here, or I’d have brought you some,” she said, holding up her hot dogs.

  Agatha and Piper just looked at her.

  “What’s wrong?” she said and shoved a bite into her mouth.

  “It’s Mr. Darcy.”

  “Is he okay?” Summer said after swallowing.

  “We had to take him to the vet. He’s ok
ay now,” Agatha said. “But he was quite sick.”

  Summer started to march into the living room.

  “Wait—we need to talk with you about him,” Piper said, voice lowered.

  “You don’t want him to hear?”

  She nodded.

  “The doctor thinks he’s depressed. And because of his advanced age, it’s making him sick,” Piper explained.

  Summer mulled that over. “He misses Mom.”

  Agatha and Piper both nodded.

  “Oh God. Have I not been—” She fed him. She cleaned his cage. She even talked to him. Wasn’t it enough?

  “It’s your mother he wants. But it would be good if we could all give him all the affection he needs,” Agatha said. “Your mother was very devoted to him. Took him out of the cage and loved him up. Let him fly around a bit in the house. Talked and sang to him.”

  Summer took another bite of her hot dog as she listened.

  “Okay,” she said. “I think I can manage.”

  Had she been a bad bird babysitter? She felt awful. She remembered the way her mom had bonded with the bird and how much she’d loved him. Hildy had always wanted cats, but she was so allergic to them and couldn’t be anywhere around them. When she and Mr. Darcy found one another, it was true love.

  “I think we all can,” Piper said. “We’ll pitch in with it all. Poor bird. He was quite distressed—threw up everywhere.”

  “And he kept asking for Hildy.” Agatha said. “It’s heartbreaking.”

  “Animals do mourn,” Piper said. “They mourn each other. They mourn their people.”

  Summer recalled conversations she’d had with her mom about animals. Her mom, the typical animal-loving vegan. Summer, the typical rebellious, thinks-she-knows-it-all daughter. “Animals are not people,” Summer would say.

  An image came to Summer: she and Piper feeding the birds, no matter what their parents said. Maybe, just maybe, there was more of Hildy in her than Summer acknowledged.

  She tiptoed into the living room, where Mr. Darcy was sleeping. Even sleeping, he looked ruffled. Poor bird. She’d love him up when he awakened.

  She moved back into the kitchen. “Any special advice from the vet?”

  “He gave us some vitamins for Darcy and just said to monitor him. It’s a big change for him with Hildy being gone. He was used to her routines, her attention. And he’s an old bird. Change is harder for old birds.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Agatha said, grinning.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The three of them gathered around the kitchen table, with heated casseroles and soup.

  “You’re not eating much,” Agatha said. “Are you okay?”

  “Just not very hungry. I just ate two hot dogs. I think that’s enough.”

  “So how did your investigation go today?” Piper asked and then shoved a bite of Mexican bean casserole into her mouth.

  “The yoga studio was closed, but I did get to talk with the woman at the bank yesterday. She said Mom looked great, not sick at all that morning.”

  “Of course,” Agatha said.

  Summer hesitated to tell them she’d found out that her mom had screamed. She also didn’t think it was wise to tell them about Posey’s visit. They were all weary from their day. She didn’t want to add to that.

  “I spoke with Ben today about the robbery,” Agatha said. “He has no leads yet.”

  “Has he gotten the final autopsy report on Mom?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Surely it was in by now. Summer made a mental note to call him first thing in the morning.

  * * *

  She also kept the news from her dean to herself. Nothing was written in stone. He was just proposing that Summer not be terminated, that she be given a sabbatical to get it together. If the board granted her the time, it would be a reprieve, but it would go fast. She felt like she needed to have a plan for it. She should finish her paper that she’d started in England.

  But she couldn’t think about that now. She needed to figure out what had happened to her mom. She was getting close. She could almost taste the answer. But with each step she made, her mom’s loss hurt even more. She theorized that by finding out the facts, she’d feel better. So far, all her investigations were just picking at her open wound.

  But she wasn’t ready to give up. No matter how much it hurt. Or freaked her out. Finding out that her mom had screamed at the bookstore before she collapsed was like a dagger in Summer’s chest.

  Then Posey’s visit had done nothing to calm Summer in the least.

  She shuddered.

  “Summer, are you okay?”

  “I’ve overdone it a bit today. Think I’ll turn in.” Her voice sounded whispery and weary.

  Agatha reached out and grabbed her hand. “This is a lot for your to deal with. Take tomorrow off. Rest.”

  Was she kidding? How could she rest? How could anybody rest with a killer loose on the island? A killer who had murdered Hildy Merriweather, one of Brigid Island’s most beloved citizens. No, she wouldn’t be resting soon. But she would not argue with her aunt. She didn’t have any arguing left in her. “Maybe I’ll do that,” she said as she rose from the table. “But for now I’m off to the couch.”

  “Good night, then,” Agatha said.

  * * *

  Summer readied for sleep and headed to the couch. She just wanted to take a glimpse at Mr. Darcy. She lifted the drape. The bird was wide awake. He blinked. What was it about the blink that made her heart rush into her throat? She opened the cage door and reached for him, rubbing his head. He purred—a noise that Hildy had taught him. He was so light and soft feeling. She began to remove her hand, but he leaped onto her finger.

  “Okay, Darcy. I’m tired, but you can come out for a little while,” she said. He eyed her and blinked again. “Oh, Mr. Darcy!” she said and grinned.

  She pulled him close to her. He rested his head on her chest, purring.

  Summer lay down on the couch and continued to stroke the bird. She’d no idea it could be this comforting and relaxing to have a huge parrot curled up on her neck.

  Summer’s eyes felt heavy as the bird’s warmth heated her. She continued to pet him until she fell asleep.

  The two of them—Mr. Darcy and Summer slept all night wrapped in a bird-human cocoon.

  * * *

  “Look at that, would you?” a voice said. “The bird is asleep with Summer.”

  “Never thought I’d see the day,” another voice said.

  Summer’s eyes opened to Agatha and Piper, standing in front of her grinning brightly.

  The place on her chest where the bird slept was hot, but she didn’t want to disturb him. “Can you get him?”

  Agatha nodded and lifted the sleeping bird, placing him on the bottom of his cage.

  “He looks cold and lonely there,” Piper said.

  “We should get him one of Mom’s sweaters or something.”

  “Good idea.” Agatha strode off upstairs to fetch a sweater.

  “Did you sleep with him all night?” Piper said.

  “I guess I did.”

  Piper cocked an eyebrow. “I guess you found your Mr. Darcy.”

  Summer grumbled. “And he’s no Romeo.” She brushed the feathers off her comforter and nightshirt. “But then again, who is?”

  “Speaking of Romeo … have you finished Nights on Bellamy Harbor? I see the main character is nothing but a modern-day Romeo. Want some coffee? It should be done.”

  “No, I’ve not finished the book. Let’s hope he’s not a Romeo. He was a first-class idiot.”

  “What?”

  Summer stretched. “Romeo and Juliet is no more a romance than my a—”

  “Here we are!” Agatha said. “A sweater for Darcy.” She held a stubbly brown sweater in her hands. Summer placed it around the bird, who slept as soundly as a baby. Or an old bird, as it were.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  After Summer showered and dressed, she phoned Ben
Singer. He didn’t pick up, so she left a message asking if he’d gotten the autopsy result in. Hildy had wanted to be cremated, and they couldn’t move forward with her wishes until the autopsy was complete—and Summer was satisfied that it was accurate.

  Nothing had gone according to what Hildy had wanted since she’d died. She wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with a church, for example. She hadn’t even wanted a memorial service.

  Summer quickly brushed her hair, grabbed her car keys and bag, and headed to the yoga studio.

  When she opened the door, it surprised her to find Rudy skulking around outside.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “Did you see a cat? I’m trying to find my granddaughter’s cat. It got out, you see. She’s heartbroken.”

  “Oh no. Did it come this way?”

  “There it is,” he said, squinting. “How did she get up there?” The cat perched on the porch roof. “Do you have a ladder?”

  Summer didn’t want to miss the yoga studio. She had a slim time frame. “I have no idea if we have a ladder. If we do, it’s in the shed in the back. It’s open. Help yourself, Rudy.”

  He nodded. “Thanks. My granddaughter … she means the world to me, and she loves this cat.” He shrugged and headed toward the backyard.

  So old, curt Rudy had a soft spot. Summer would tuck that away for further use in the future.

  She slid into her car, flipped on the ignition and radio, and was off to the yoga studio. As she drove along, past familiar places and some unfamiliar ones, warmth came over her. The warmth of familiarity. She knew every inch of this side of the island. As a kid, she’d traveled everywhere on foot. She knew the businesses and the landscape with its dunes and coves, along with its marshy area, which she used to have bad dreams about. All of these things she wanted to get as far away from as possible. And yet here she was.

  She turned into the full parking lot of the yoga studio, parked, and exited the car.

  She opened the door to a class that was just finishing. She’d timed it perfectly.