She sat back and stretched out her neck. “I guess so, but my car’s parked behind my store. You can give me a lift there if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. Finish up, and we’ll go.”
She smiled at him. “You know, this feels good.”
“What does?” He took a swig of his coffee.
“You know, you and me sitting in your office, talking about a case, like old times.” She laughed.
He choked. “Well, don’t get too comfortable. It was only a short lapse of judgment on my part, because that woman got me so riled up. She’s a reporter here now, too. That spells trouble, I fear.” He drummed his fingers on the desktop.
Addie started to reply, but sipped her coffee instead.
He stared over his cup rim at her, his brow cocked.
She turned up her nose and grimaced.
“I know that look. What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing . . . well . . . no.” She finished her coffee and set the cup down. “Ready? I could use a hot bath when I get home. I’m chilled to the bone.” She stood up. “I assume Serena told you about my shop being egged?”
“Yes, she did, and I knew right away who drives that truck she described.”
“And?”
“And it was just some local kids who thought it would be funny. I’ve spoken to them and their parents and warned them that any future incidents would come with more than a warning. You should be egg-free in the future.”
“Good. It takes forever to get that goo off. Although I’m sure Martha enjoyed watching my pain.”
He grabbed his cap from the coatrack, placed his hand on the small of her back, and ushered her out the back door. The swirling wind sucked at Addie’s breath. She put her head down and marched right into an unmoving, dark blur.
“Ah,” she gasped, her head shooting up. “Lacey?”
“Being escorted out of the station?”
Marc appeared beside Addie.
“Chief, do you have a comment for the good people of Greyborne Harbor regarding any suspects in this murder case?” She glanced at Addie.
“No, I do not,” he all but growled. “And it has not been ruled a murder as of yet, Miss Davenport. Now kindly move and let us pass.”
She straightened her shoulders, and although her pen tapped on the notebook in her hand, her gaze never wavered from Marc’s hand at the small of Addie’s back. “Very well, then.” She stepped aside and let them move toward Marc’s car. “Remember, Chief,” Lacey shouted over the wind, “I get an exclusive when it does come out that this is a murder and when it becomes clear who committed it.”
Addie felt all the venom of Lacey’s glare as Marc got into the car, and they sped out of the parking lot.
Chapter Five
The aroma of fresh coffee welcomed Addie to the start of her business day when she stepped through the door of her bookstore. “Welcome back, Paige,” she called from the front door to her young part-time shop assistant. “I hope you had a nice day off yesterday?” She came around the end of a bookshelf and paused when she spotted Catherine seated at the far end of the counter. “I didn’t know we were meeting this morning, or I’d have been here sooner.” Addie handed her blond, curly-headed assistant her coat to put behind the counter and dropped a coffee pod into the machine.
“That’s okay. I was just at the library to pick up June’s copy of the book that the club is reviewing now and thought I’d better drop it off to you on my way home.” Catherine pulled a book from her oversized handbag and placed it on the counter.
Addie peered over her shoulder. “The Ghosts and Mysteries of Greyborne Harbor? Never heard of it. Fiction or nonfiction?” She stirred her coffee and sat down on a stool beside her.
“It’s a historical account, actually, a mix of local legend, myths, and facts. It makes excellent reading, especially around Founder’s Day.”
Addie picked it up and stared at the black-and-white cover. “The photo definitely has an eerie quality about it—must be because of the reference made to ghosts in the title.” She glanced at Catherine, then back at the book. “The author is June Winslow? I had no idea she was a writer, too.”
“She used to be president of the historical society, and she spent years researching and documenting the history of Greyborne Harbor. When she stepped down from that role a few years ago, she decided to put all her findings into a book.” Catherine’s hand caressed the cover, her eyes moist. “It’s been a local best-seller since it was published two years ago.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Addie glimpsed a movement as Paige slid a copy of the Daily News under the countertop. “What’s that?” She snatched at the paper.
“Nothing, I’m just tidying up.” Paige’s blue eyes darkened at the same speed as her usually pale cheeks turned bright pink.
“Let’s have a look.” Addie tugged it out of Paige’s trembling hand and scanned what she had been reading. She slammed the newspaper on the counter. “I can’t believe it,” she cried. “The nerve.”
Paige cringed and shuffled backward. “I guess you hadn’t seen it yet?”
Catherine patted her arm. “Now, now, Addie, it’s a gossip piece, not fact, remember.” She reached for the paper. “No need to upset yourself so early in the day.”
“No, she has to answer for this.” Addie kept her death grip on the paper. “Miss Nosy has gone too far.” Her hand trembled as she fished her cell phone out of her jacket pocket, fumbled it, and sent it crashing to the floor. She bent down to retrieve it, but a loud cry pierced the air behind her. Her head flew up and smacked the counter ledge. “Darn it!” She spun around, rubbing the back of her head.
Serena stood in the doorway, her face contorted and tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe it.” She crushed Addie to her in a bear hug. “That, that woman. How dare she?”
“I just hope she has a good lawyer,” Addie grabbed the paper off the counter and poked at it with her finger. “This is libel, undisputably. Now we’ll see what Marc has to say.”
Serena gently took the cell phone from her hand. “Calm down first. He won’t take it seriously if you’re mad and yelling at him.”
Addie slumped onto a stool. “You’re right. But now to say this—” Her finger stabbed at the latest report in the gossip column.
“It says here that you were at the station with Marc last night,” said Serena, pointing to a line in the column. “Is that true?”
“Yes, but it’s taken completely out of context. I wasn’t arrested.”
Serena continued to read it aloud for Addie’s benefit. “I have it on good authority that Miss Addison Greyborne was led away last night by Chief Chandler from the crime scene where June Winslow’s body was discovered. She was detained at the police station for an extended period of time. She was already considered by many the main suspect in June’s disappearance. Have the Harbor police discovered that she’s the number one suspect in her most mysterious death now, too?”
“The only good authority could be Lacey,” Addie said. “She was there when Marc and I left the station, after having an innocent coffee when we went back to see if the preliminary lab results were in yet.” She glanced at Serena.
Serena shook her head. “No, I’ve known Lacey most of my life. She’s a real reporter. She would never give false or misleading information to Miss Nosy.”
“Well, someone did, and I doubt it was anyone from inside the police station.”
“We’ve all known Lacey her whole life,” piped in Catherine.
“Yes, she used to babysit me,” Paige added.
“She’s really a good person.” Catherine patted Addie’s hand. “A bit headstrong and driven, but that’s how she ended up cohosting the morning news in Los Angeles. She would never share information that wasn’t true. Her reputation and credibility would be ruined.”
“Okay, okay, so you’re all members of the Lacey Davenport fan club.” If Addie had even a wee bit less maturity, she would have stuck her tongue out, but she was a g
rown woman, and grown women didn’t do such childish things, no matter how strong the urge. “If she’s such a great reporter, why is she working now at the Greyborne Harbor Daily News? That’s pretty far away from the bright lights of a morning show in LA.” She looked from Paige, to Catherine, her eyes coming to rest on Serena.
Serena’s eyes filled with tears. “Because her mother’s dying, so she came home.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s probably why she seemed so unpleasant toward you last night. She’s hurt and upset, and taking it out on everyone, even me. You heard her snap at me, too.” Serena pursed her lips and sat down beside Addie. “Someone else must have seen you leave with Marc and said something to Miss Newsy.”
“But why would this person implicate me in her disappearance in the first place, and now call me out as a suspect in a death—which we both know means a murder suspect?”
“Yes, but there’s no evidence. Only gossip and speculations from some unknown source,” Serena said.
“But it’s the same thing that Lacey implied last night when she ambushed me and Marc on the back stairs of the police station.” Addie frowned. “She asked him if he had any suspects, then looked at me. Who else would have given Miss Nosy Newsy the information?”
“I don’t know.” Serena shook her head. “But it doesn’t mean she was accusing you. Maybe she was just hoping one of you might answer. The information could have come from anyone, even harmlessly.”
“Exactly,” chimed in Catherine. “Miss Newsy might have overheard an innocent conversation at a coffee shop between two officers who were there and jumped to conclusions.”
Paige and Serena nodded.
“Listen to us, Addie,” pleaded Catherine, “Lacey isn’t the source. She’s a good person. Why would she and Marc have been engaged for so long if she weren’t?” Her eyes widened and her mouth snapped shut.
Serena choked and looked sideways at Addie.
Addie felt as though her body would slip through the cracks of the floor. She pinned Catherine with a stare as the poor woman edged toward the door, only to bump right into Marc. “Speak of the devil,” Addie murmured under her breath.
His lingering gaze scanned the faces of the four silent women. “What have I missed?”
“Umm, we were just . . .” Catherine looked at Marc, then to Addie. “The club meets tonight here at seven. See you then.” She skirted past Marc and headed out the door.
Marc looked from Paige to Serena, then at Addie.
“I’ll be in the back sorting the new shipment of books.” Paige darted to the storage room.
“I’d better be off too and open my shop.” Serena slid past Marc and out the door.
Marc plopped a pod into the machine. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. Mind if I grab a coffee?”
“Nope,” Addie crooned sweetly. Could sugar shock maim somebody? She sure hoped so. “Help yourself.” She stood up and ordered her knees not to wobble. “I’d better get to work anyway.” She looked out the window, trying to dispel images of Marc and Lacey as a couple.
“Is everything okay?” Marc moved up behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Did something happen? You seem shaken.”
She jerked away from his touch and scooted around the counter. “You haven’t read the morning news, then?”
“No, I haven’t had time.”
She swung around and looked at him, a smile pasted across her face. “Well, then drink your coffee and have a read.” She pointed to the newspaper on the counter and began totaling yesterday’s receipts.
Addie watched him out of the corner of her eye as he read the article. He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. His hand scrubbed across his cheek. “God, Addie, I had no idea.”
“Yeah, one of the many shocks I’ve had this morning.” She snapped the receipt book closed.
His brow creased. “What else happened?”
The door chimes rang. Addie looked up and fought an involuntary eye roll. “Lacey? Good morning.” She didn’t bother with a fake smile. “Shopping or browsing today?” Addie shot Marc a piercing glance as she made her way around the desk.
“Actually, neither,” Lacey drawled. Addie’s hand itched to slap that smug look off her face. “I’ve come to have a private word with Marc.”
Marc’s jaw tensed, and he spun around on his stool. “I have no further information regarding the case at this time.” He turned back to his coffee and stirred in a sugar packet.
Lacey glided up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “This is private. Not work-related.” Her lips brushed his cheek, but her eyes were on Addie’s with a Cheshire cat gleam.
Marc stiffened, pushed his coffee away, and rose to his feet. “Fine,” he mumbled and headed out the door.
Lacey chased after him, and Addie went to the window. Marc had stopped on the sidewalk, his back to her. Lacey grabbed his arm, spinning him toward her, and said something to him. He stepped back. Martha appeared on the sidewalk, broom in hand. Lacey greeted her with a warm embrace. Over Lacey’s shoulder, Martha glanced at Addie in the window and smiled smugly.
Chapter Six
The shop was church-mouse quiet. Paige had worked noiselessly rearranging the storage room all morning, and not one customer had come in. Had it been any other day, Addie might have been concerned, but today it was a relief. No nosy townsfolk coming in to gawk, wasting her time, and it gave her the opportunity to review the book she’d be expected to discuss at this evening’s book club meeting. Today, she’d accept anything that distracted her from thoughts of Marc and Lacey’s past engagement.
She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. After all, she had a past, too, with David. But Lacey? She shuddered and refocused, scanning a paper she’d found on the Internet that June had written before she compiled her book. None of the information contained in it was in the book, as far as she remembered, which she found rather curious. Her stomach growled, and she looked at the clock on her computer.
“Paige, I’m going out to pick up some lunch. Do you want anything?” The only response was the ticking of the clock on the wall behind her. “Paige? Are you there?” She got up and headed back to the storeroom. “I’m guessing you have your earbuds in and can’t hear me?” She laughed and peered into the empty back room. “Paige?” She tapped on the bathroom door. “Are you there?” She jiggled the handle, and it opened. Scratching her head, she noted the back door was propped open with a book.
Addie flung the door open. The blinding sunlight stung her eyes. When they’d adjusted, she spotted Paige standing beside Martha’s Dumpster speaking with a woman. She looked familiar, but Addie couldn’t make out her features. She shielded her eyes and squinted. “Paige, do you want me to pick you up anything for lunch?”
Both women started.
“Umm, no, that’s fine. When you come back, I’ll grab something from next door.” Paige looked from Addie to the woman she had been speaking with. “Addie, this is Jeanie Winslow, June’s daughter.”
Addie walked toward them and extended her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.” Jeanie recoiled. Addie slid her hand back into her pocket. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Jeanie stiffened. “I’ve been asking Paige for her opinion of you.”
“In what way?”
“Jeanie just wanted to know if I thought you were . . .” Her round blue eyes beseeched Addie’s for mercy.
“The kind of person who could have had anything to do with my mother’s death?” Jeanie bit out the words. Addie made a mental note to check for bite marks later.
A snicker came from behind Addie, and she spun around in time to see Martha’s pudgy, flour-covered face peeking out of the bakery’s back door. The door shut, and Addie looked back at Jeanie, whose eyes hadn’t wavered from her. Addie took a step back and gestured toward the door. “Come inside, Jeanie. Let me try and put your mind to rest.”
Jeanie faltered, but slid past Addie into
the storeroom. Now Addie could see why she had looked so familiar. Jeanie was a younger version of the photograph of her mother in the newspaper. Addie wasn’t a great judge of age, but as she looked down at Jeanie, she guessed her to be only about ten years older than she was, which would place her in her early to maybe midforties?
“You, too, Paige,” she called to her clerk, who seemed to be stuck in limbo by the Dumpster.
Addie scanned the storefront to make sure no one had come into the shop while they were out back, then motioned to a couple of crates. “Please sit, so we can talk.”
Jeanie plopped down onto a box. Paige stood, fidgeting with a loose string on her shirt. “I think I’ll just keep an eye on the front,” she said and disappeared into the shop.
Addie sat on a box facing Jeanie and met her deep brown-eyed gaze. “Please let me express my condolences. I hear your mother was a lovely person and much loved in the community.”
Jeanie nodded, her dark, straight, bobbed hair swinging freely.
“And please know, regardless of what you read in the paper, I had nothing to do with either her disappearance or her death.” Addie looked down at her damp hands in her lap. “I’ve never even met her.”
“But, but I thought since you owned a bookshop, and she was the librarian . . . you used to be a librarian, right?” Her eyes narrowed.
“No, I was a researcher, but I did work at the Boston Public Library. I was in acquisitions and—”
“But I was told”—Jeanie shifted on the crate—“that you were after my mother’s job, because the shop isn’t doing well and your criminal Boston friends were trying to make sure you got a job there for some reason.” She hung her head, and then straightened up. “I guess I should have learned by now not to believe the gossip in this town.”
Addie’s lips tightened, and she slowly nodded.
“I’m sorry, really I am. I hope you can understand. If it were your mother who disappeared out of the blue, you’d be inclined to let your mind run through every crazy scenario.” She sniffed. “I’m just grasping for answers, I guess.”
Prologue to Murder Page 4