Chapter Sixty-One
Summer didn’t sleep the rest of the night. She paced, rocked, and finally, when the sun started to peek over the horizon, she walked the beach.
She told herself she should feel vindicated. There was proof that her mom had been killed. She had been on the right track all along. But, perhaps for the first time in her life, being right didn’t make her feel any better. She felt like God was playing some kind of nasty joke on her.
Her mom had planted seeds of goodness wherever she traveled. It used to annoy Summer that her mother didn’t have a mean bone in her body. That she always looked on the bright side of things—always with the positive spin. Summer would grit her teeth, watching her mom spread those seeds of goodness.
Volunteering at the women’s shelter. Hosting countless almost-broke authors in her home. Cleaning the beach every Sunday morning during tourist season. And—well, the list continued.
And despite a lifetime of that, someone had offed her. Not just someone, but a friend. Someone who’d been in her home. In her bookstore. Most likely someone whom Hildy had fed. She fed anybody who came her way.
Her delicious vegan treats.
The only thing to do was to cooperate with Ben as he investigated. She swallowed the sea air. Justice was the only way she’d ever begin to feel better about losing Hildy. Yet, it would never be enough.
The light of the day spread slowly over the ocean. She slipped her shoes off and walked into the sea. She needed to feel something other than the inner turmoil. The strife. Friction.
The cold water snapped her back. She stood and let its cold embrace her. She drew in air. Time to get some answers.
* * *
“Hi, Ben—it’s Summer Merriweather.”
“Yeah. How can I help you?”
“Has Dr. Chang called you yet this morning?”
“I don’t know. I just got in.”
“He’ll be calling. He studied my mother’s autopsy report. It’s as I suspected.”
Silence.
“Ben?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean someone shot enough insulin into my mother to send her into something like diabetic shock, giving her a heart attack.”
“What?” His voice rose. “I’ll be right over.”
“I need to get to the bookstore this morning. Poppy has a doctor’s appointment. Can we just meet over there?”
“Absolutely.” He clicked off.
Piper came down the stairs, looking grim. “I hardly slept.”
“I didn’t sleep at all. I just talked to Ben. He’s coming to the store.”
Piper rolled her eyes. “What evidence can be left at this point? He should have listened to you. Now how are they going to find out anything?”
Summer downed her coffee. “I need to open the store. Poppy’s off this morning. But let’s hope the police will find some piece of evidence somewhere.”
“Well, we’ve already done a good bit of investigating. You should tell Ben what you found out.”
“I intend to.” Summer picked up her bag and headed for the door. “Are you working today?”
“Yeah, half a day.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later.”
* * *
Summer walked past the other businesses as they were setting up. She smiled, said hello, good morning, yet she almost felt as though she were another person. Face it, Summer: the only thing keeping you awake is caffeine. Of course you feel strange.
She slid her key into the lock and opened the front door, surprised to find the lights on and to hear music playing and laughter from the back. She walked toward the sound of the friendly laughter.
“Good morning, Summer,” Marilyn said when she walked into the back room.
“Good morning. What’s going on?”
“Weekly shipment. We always help with this one. Besides, we heard you were opening today and wanted to help out.”
“Thank you. I might need it.”
“Have you heard anything from the doctor?” Glads asked.
“Yes.”
“Yoo-hoo! Are you open? A voice came from the front of the store.
“Yes!” Summer yelled. “Be right there.”
Marilyn and Glads stood and drew closer to Summer. “She was murdered. Someone gave her a ton of insulin, which sent her into a state much like a diabetic shock, which gave her a heart attack.”
“What?” Marilyn said.
Glads gasped.
“I know. It’s horrible.” Summer’s chin quivered. “I need you to think hard about who could have done such a thing and why. Ben is coming over this morning. So please stick around if you can.”
Summer braced herself and moseyed into the front of the store to help the customer who had wandered in. It was the last thing she wanted to do today, to be in this bookstore, planting a smile on her face and talking with customers about dreadful books … well … not all of them were dreadful.
“Can I help you?” Summer asked the woman, who was dressed in a yellow sundress with a white sweater wrapped around her shoulders. She was stunning. Summer blinked. Mocha-skinned with deep brown eyes, almost black, with black hair falling in waves around her face, showing off cheekbones to die for.
“Yes,” the woman replied, smiling. “I hear you have a diversity-in-romance section.”
“We do,” Summer said.
“Can you make any recommendations?” Her voice was well schooled.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m new here.” It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. “But I know the previous owner of the shop was very proud of this section. It’s right around the corner.” Summer directed her to the spot.
“Thank you very much,” she said in a tone that sparked Summer’s curiosity. The woman acted as if she’d just done Summer a huge favor. So polite.
Summer turned and moved on to the cash register. She’d yet to set it up for the day. As she did so, a group of women entered the shop, each scattering to her preferred section. Some even meandered upstairs.
After Summer set the cash register up, she checked on the coffee situation. The crew was brewing a fresh pot, and the scent filled the room. Summer drew it in. As she walked back to the register, Chief Ben Singer entered the shop.
Chapter Sixty-Two
“Summer,” he said, as if it were a pronouncement. “Got a minute?”
She glanced around. “Maybe.”
“I talked with Dr. Chang this morning.” He looked over her shoulder, as if he didn’t want to meet her eye. “I want to apologize for not listening to you.” His voice cracked. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t want to believe it.”
The chief’s face turned red. Was he going to cry? Oh no. Summer couldn’t have that. “Well, there was no evidence. You’re an officer of the law and needed evidence. I get that.”
He straightened. “Right. And thank you.”
“How can I help?”
The lady dressed in yellow approached the register with an armful of books and a smile. “I had such a hard time choosing. I didn’t realize there were so many diverse authors in this genre.”
Ben stepped off to the side as Summer checked her out. “I’m glad you found a few books that meet your criteria.”
“Very exciting.”
“Are you here on vacation?” Summer asked.
“No. I live here.”
“I grew up here. You don’t look familiar at all.” Summer slipped her books into the bags.
“My parents homeschooled me,” she said. “My name is Fatima. I live over on the east end of the island.”
The east end had been code for years. Summer doubted that it still was. But those that lived over there kept to themselves. She didn’t know much about it. They were not fishing people.
“Oh, I see. That’s why we’ve never have run into each other,” Summer said. “I’m glad to meet you. I’m Summer Merriweather.”
The woman’s smile vanished. It wasn’t an unfriendly look, but more of an awestru
ck one. “Are you Hildy’s daughter?”
Summer nodded. “I am.”
She took her bag of books off the counter, a bit flustered. “Very happy to meet you. So sorry to learn of her death.”
“Thank you,” Summer said.
She leaned in and studied Summer. “You don’t look like her at all.”
“So they tell me,” Summer replied.
“Well, I must be off. Good meeting you,” She turned and walked out of the shop.
“Are all customers that talkative?” Ben said.
“I don’t think so,” Summer said. “Now, how can I help you?”
“First, I understand you’ve been going all over the place asking questions. I’d like to know what you found out, if anything. And after that, I’ll need you to stop asking questions.”
“What?”
“It’s a murder investigation. Leave it in the hands of the pros. Can you do that?”
Summer mulled it over. “Sure. The only reason I was investigating is because you weren’t.”
He shifted his weight. “Okay. What have you learned?”
Summer filled him in on how her mom’s last day had played out. All the people she’d come into contact with. The snack in her car. What she’d been doing in the bookstore, who had been with her, how she’d screamed and dropped.
“I must speak with some of these folks, and I’ll need to get my hands on those granola bars.”
“No problem. Two of those people are in the back—Glads and Marilyn.”
“Mind if I go back there?”
Summer smiled at the woman coming to the register with a book.
“Not at all,” she said to him and turned to the customer. “Did you find everything you need?”
The woman smiled. “I think so.”
After she left, the shop quieted. Busyness came in ebbs and flows. Summer was glad for a breather. Ben, Glads, and Marilyn paraded over to the vampire section. Marilyn pointed out some things and lay down on the floor. Was that where Hildy had dropped? A chill traveled the length of Summer. Wish I hadn’t seen that.
Ben pulled out his phone just as Summer walked up to the group.
“He’s calling a forensic team in from Wilmington,” Glads said. “Calling in some favors.”
“But it’s been days,” Summer said. “We’ve cleaned a few times. I doubt there’s anything here.”
“Best to cover all the bases,” Glads said. “You never know. They could find something we’ve overlooked.”
Ben ended his call. “I’m going to rope this section off. It shouldn’t be too much of a disruption.”
“The vampire section?” Marilyn said. “It’s one of the most popular sections.”
“I’m sorry. We’ll try to make it as expedient as possible.” Ben was being polite and professional.
Summer was impressed. “What are the chances forensics will find anything at this point?”
Ben drowned. “Slim to none. But we have to try.”
Summer glimpsed the decent person hiding inside, under the layers of the weathered, well-tended, police-chief mask.
When she’d thought he’d be her father-in-law, they’d gotten along well, even though he was always a bit gruff and reticent. When she’d stood Cash up at the altar, it was Ben who’d reached out and told her off. Told her it was best she never return to St. Brigid.
But he’d never been a fan of hers, even before then. Even when she and Cash had been very happy, she’d gotten the feeling it was all he could do to stop from rolling his eyes at her.
He’d made a huge mistake in not listening to Summer. But now here he was, in a professional capacity, doing his best, sucking it up, and getting to work. But she wasn’t kidding herself. It wasn’t for her. It was for Hildy.
* * *
“What on earth is going on here?” Agatha asked as she entered Beach Reads later that day.
Crime scene tape cordoned off the vampire section, and a team of three forensics investigators were combing the area.
“The police are finally listening to Summer,” Glads said.
“The results of Mom’s autopsy report showed foul play,” Summer said.
“What?” Agatha’s voice rose three decibels.
Poppy trailed in behind Agatha. “What’s going on?”
“The police are investigating Hildy’s death,” Agatha said.
Summer’s heart raced. Customers were definitely checking out the scene. “Do you think we should close the bookstore while this is going on?”
“That’s not necessary,” Ben replied.
Agatha took in the scene. “I see what you mean. It’s kind of awkward and off-putting.”
“Can I help you with that?” Poppy strode over to the register, where a woman stood with an armful of books.
“Yes, you can,” she said. “What’s going on?”
Poppy took her books and scanned them in. “It’s police business,” Poppy said. “We’ve been instructed not to say anything.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh.” Amused. “How exciting. Right here on St. Brigid.”
Summer couldn’t be certain, but she thought the scene was drawing even more people into the store. It had gotten busy.
One of the forensics people held something that looked like a black light. He shone it on the floor. “Eureka!” He said.
Ben turned around to Summer. “Now I think it would be a good idea to get people out, if you can.”
“I’ll post the “Closed” sign and lock the door,” Agatha said.
“I’ll make an announcement,” Poppy said.
“What did you find?” Summer’s heart raced even more as she approached the vampire section. There she saw it. A splat of something that had been invisible. When The light lit it, it revealed a small splash.
Her stomach wavered. “Is that blood?”
Agatha was at her side.
“Hard to say,” Ben said. “It could be insulin.” He leveled a look at Summer. “We’ll take samples and get them to the lab. But since we found one thing, there may be more, which is why I’m asking you to close.”
Shoppers dutiful selected their books and lined up in front of the cash register.
Poppy and Glads checked people out.
Ben’s hands snapped to his hips. “I never would’ve suspected. And it’s so easy to miss. Even under the blue light, it’s very faint.” He shook his head as if he were rebuking himself.
“Can I get you some water?” Summer asked.
“Ya got any whiskey?” He grinned.
“Maybe in the back.”
An eyebrow rose. “Just kidding, Summer.”
“So someone killed her right here,” Agatha said after a minute.
The last customer was rung up and ushered out of the shop. Summer’s thoughts rolled around in her brain.
“Mom screamed and fell there,” she said, almost to herself. “Most of the other women were upstairs.”
“Except for Doris,” Glads said. “She was right here. She must have seen something.”
“She gets upset every time we ask,” Summer said.
“It must have been a horrible experience for her,” Agatha said.
“It was worse for Hildy,” Glads said. “I mean, okay, Doris is taking it hard, as anybody would. But she’s a grown woman. She needs to suck it up and help out with this investigation.”
“Call her right now,” Poppy said. “She needs to get down here and talk with the police.”
“I agree,” Summer said. A twinge of guilt plucked at her. Poor pink-haired Doris. Summer totally got why she didn’t want to talk about it. She had been with Hildy in her last lucid moments, which Mia would never forgive her for, evidently. And everybody would always remember this about her in the small town. But it was too bad. The more Summer considered it, the more she believed Doris had to know something.
Who were the customers around? Had any of them approached her mother, gotten close enough to prick her with a needle?”
B
en’s phone rang. “Yeah.” He pushed on. “That right? Okay. Wow. That’s a lot of insulin.” He grimaced as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “The granola bars were laced with enough insulin to kill a diabetic.”
“But she wasn’t diabetic.”
“I know.” He drew in air. “I suppose what happened is she ate a granola bar and then someone shot her with a needle. So she had two huge doses of insulin. It looks like there may have been a struggle, and some of the insulin spilled.”
Silence permeated the room. Someone had surely wanted Hildy dead.
“I just called Doris and left a message. No answer,” Poppy said.
They stood and watched the officer with the blue light as he shone it all around the same area. There had been a bit of a struggle, and some of the insulin had spilled.
Summer’s stomach roiled again. She headed for the back to rest.
“Summer? Are you okay?” Agatha came after her.
“I just need to sit down,” Summer said. “It’s been quite a day.”
“It sure has,” Agatha said.
Summer sat behind Hildy’s desk, and Agatha sat in another chair in the office.
Summer felt like a deflated balloon. She should be thrilled the police were investigating. Finally, they were doing their jobs. But it just made her sadder and even more confused.
Who had reason to kill Hildy?
It jabbed at her.
“Why don’t you go home and rest?” Agatha said.
“I can’t. I need to know what’s happening here.”
“They’re collecting samples and won’t know anything for hours, maybe even days. I think you should get some rest. You’re pale. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes. When was the last time you ate?”
When, indeed? Now that she remembered it, the only thing she’d ingested all day was coffee.
“Okay, I’ll go home, get something to eat, and try to take a nap.”
She stood, reached for her bag, and felt dizzy.
“Summer? Let me walk you home.” Agatha was at her side.
As they walked out, arm in arm, Agatha told them all not to call. She was putting Summer to bed.
“Wait.” Summer stopped walking. “Call if there are answers.”
Little Bookshop of Murder Page 23