Prologue to Murder

by Lauren Elliott

  He looked at the two books she juggled in her hands. “Well, it’s a start to figuring out this mystery. Too bad you didn’t find June’s original manuscript though.”

  She examined the bookshelf, walked to the door, closed her left eye, and scanned the alignment of the shelf. Measuring the depth of the wall with her hands and arms, she compared it to the actual bookshelf and smiled. “Not so fast. Help me take this row of books down.” She removed books from the shelf where she’d discovered Johnson’s first edition and stacked them on the floor.

  Simon brushed his hands on his pant legs. “Okay, all down. Now what?”

  She began to tap the back of the shelf from the door to the far end, stopped, and pressed on the back of the shelf panel. A drawer slid out.

  She looked over her shoulder and flashed him a grin as she brandished a tri-clipped bundle of papers.

  “Well, I’ll be. You really are a certified amateur sleuth, aren’t you?” He chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Some would say certifiable.” She turned to him and winked.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Good morning, Paige!” Addie shouted from the back door.

  “Morning.” A cheery voice greeted her from the front of the shop.

  “If you’re not busy, could you come and help me back here with some boxes I need to carry in?” Addie hovered in the back door, waiting for Paige’s reply.

  “Need help?”

  “Marc? What are you doing here?”

  His shoulders twitched with a slight shrug, and his trademark flinch of the jawline betrayed some inner turmoil.

  “Never mind.” She waved off her question. “Yes, I could use any help I can get, thanks.”

  “You can say that again,” he muttered under his breath and slid past her out the door.

  She huffed and glared at the back of his head. “They’re in the back,” she snapped.

  He turned and looked at her. “Really? I never would have guessed.” He opened the back hatch, pulled the first crate out, and made his way to the door.

  “Wait, you’ll hurt yourself . . . Those are heavy.”

  He set it on the floor of the storeroom and skirted past her, retrieving the second box of books and placed it beside the first. “Is that it?” He brushed off his hands. “Or do you have more in that van-sized vehicle you drive?”

  She slammed the shop door closed. “Thank you. It wasn’t quite so easy getting them in there.”

  He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on hers. “Didn’t your new doctor friend help?”

  She shook her head and walked over to the desk. “What brings you in today?” She flung her purse down and removed her jacket, tossing it on top.

  He took a deep breath and straightened his stance. “We need to talk.”

  Her head cocked to the side as she flipped through the mail Paige had left on the back room desk for her. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

  “I mean really talk.” He took a step toward her.

  She sliced open an envelope with a letter opener. “That’s priceless. I’ve wanted to talk for a while now, and you weren’t interested in hearing what I had to say.”

  “It’s different now. It’s gone on far too long, and to be honest, it’s tearing me up to see you with Simon.”

  She set the letter down and narrowed her eyes at him. “He’s a friend, just like Lacey is a friend to you.” She spat out her words and returned to sorting the mail. “By the way, it amazed me at how quickly you fled from my arms to Lacey’s.”

  “I didn’t flee to Lacey’s arms.”

  “That’s the not the same picture I’ve witnessed or she’s been painting.”

  “Addie, when you whispered David’s name, it cut through my heart like a knife.”

  She gripped the desk edge. “It just slipped out . . . I didn’t mean—”

  “I know, I know.” He walked toward her and spun her around, placing his hands on her shoulders. “That night, I stood back and studied your face and knew right then that what you’d been saying all along was true.”

  “What’s that?” Her bottom lip began to quiver.

  “That you weren’t ready.”

  “But—”

  “Shush.” He placed his finger over her lips. “I knew you needed more time to grieve the loss of David. You tried to tell me that from the beginning, and I wouldn’t listen, but when you said what you did . . . Well, I knew then that I had to give you some space. The only way I knew how to do that was to try to distance myself emotionally from you, but I guess I did a pretty bad job of it, didn’t I?”

  “You sure did. I couldn’t believe how cold and mean you got.”

  “I’m sorry, really I am, but it was hard to turn off the feelings I was developing for you.”

  “If that’s true, why did you run straight into Lacey’s arms?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “But I saw you and her the very next day.”

  “That was business.”

  “Did she know that?” Addie crossed her arms.

  “I never led her on. What she thought, I have no control over.”

  “What kind of business?”

  “You said that you had suspicions about her, and I wanted to find out if any of them were founded. I thought you saw that.”

  She hung her head and peered at him through her eyelashes. “So she was a suspect?”

  “She is a suspect. Not a friend.”

  Her head jerked up. “A suspect.” She couldn’t contain the saucy grin spreading across her lips. “Finally, you’ve seen the light?”

  “I always did.”

  Addie tried to hide her surprise, but her eyes betrayed her.

  He tucked a strand of wayward hair behind her ear.

  She pulled back and stood upright. “So you suspect her of committing the murder.” She turned toward the covered crime board.

  “No, I don’t think she’s a murderer, but I do suspect her of something. Look, we both needed time to come to terms with our past ghosts. Unfortunately, she’s mine, and I have some suspicions about her, just like you do. I wanted—no, needed—to follow through on them. The only way was to regain her trust, and it’s paying off.”

  “I wish you’d shared that tidbit with me.”

  “How could I? The knife wound in my heart was too fresh, and the look in your eyes when I left has haunted me every night since. But just a minute.” He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. “Speaking of filling spaces quickly, what’s with you and the doctor?”

  She felt a flush rise up onto her cheeks. “Nothing. It’s strictly business.”

  “Are you sure?” His eyes narrowed.

  “Well . . . you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” She turned and yanked the drop cloth from the board. “What do you have?” She stood waiting, the tip of the chalk beside the letters LD.

  Marc heaved a deep sigh behind her.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “Well? What have you got?”

  He sat on the desk edge and crossed his arms. “What I can share with you at this point is that I suspected Lacey either to be Miss Newsy or to have a direct line to her and be passing on information.”

  “And?”

  “And she is Miss Newsy as a side job, in addition to being a reporter for the paper.”

  “Aha, I knew it.” Addie wrote Miss Newsy on the board. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’m kind of up against it with the DA’s office. They’re really pressuring me to close this, and I could use all the help I can get.”

  She studied him and saw the tic of his jaw. Her stomach fluttered, but she refused to acknowledge it.

  “Actually, they’ve demanded that I try and work with you on a few of the stumbling blocks in the case.”

  She leaned against the board and crossed her arms, her eyes not wavering from his.

  “Your expertise in books and past training as an appraisal expert prove th
at you have a keen eye for detail. Since this case now appears to be about a dead author and a book, the DA insisted, after he ran a background check on you, that I should utilize your expertise as a consultant, and . . .”

  “Go on.” She struggled to squelch the flutter building in her stomach.

  “And the DA feels it would be in the Greyborne Harbor Police Department’s best interest if you were officially read into any book-related portions of this murder case.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath.

  He stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders. “As a temporary consultant and only because the order came from the DA’s office. He asked me to tell you that this service would also come with a small honorarium.”

  She nodded, fighting to contain her excitement.

  “I tried arguing with them and told them it was dangerous, especially now after the latest gift box incident.”

  She nodded.

  “But they insisted we give it ago—a trial run, that’s all. You understand, right?”

  “I—”

  “Am I interrupting?” Serena stood in the doorway, looking from Addie to Marc.

  Addie searched Marc’s face, which had turned to stone as he flashed a warning glance at her. “Not at all. Great to see you.” Addie walked over and hugged her friend. “What brings you in?”

  Serena glanced from Marc’s detached expression to Addie’s flushed cheeks and shook her head. “I was taking a quick lunch and thought I’d better drop in and explain about yesterday.”

  “No need. I got your message loud and clear.” Addie smiled. “My, my, is it lunchtime already? Where does the time go?” She glanced at Marc.

  Serena made her way over to a crate and sat down, her eyes flitting from Marc to Addie. “I hope you got the message. I didn’t want you to think that I’d fallen back into the spiderweb.” Her eyes seemed to drill into Marc’s.

  Addie noted Serena’s expression. “I knew that, deep down.”

  “Anyway.” Serena crossed her legs and leaned back on her hands. “I got a few tidbits for you to add to that board.” She looked up at it. “Oh, I see you already have one of them up there.”

  Marc pointed to the Miss Newsy line. “You mean this one?”

  Serena nodded. “You knew?”

  “Yup. Part of police business.”

  “Is that what you’ve really been up to?” She locked eyes with her brother. “Spying on Lacey?”

  “And what’s your excuse, little miss puppy dog?” He stared down his nose at her.

  “Yeah, but—”

  He stood up. “No ‘yeah, buts.’”

  She hung her head. “Okay. But only because Addie’s gut feelings are contagious.”

  “I’ve caught the same disease, too.” He winked at Addie.

  “Well.” Addie flopped down on the crate beside Serena. “My dad always said that sometimes you just have to forget about the facts and evidence, stop following it, and go with your gut.”

  “My gut got really churned up when you asked me if Lacey’s brother, Dean, had met her reporter friend while he was in LA last year.”

  “And?” Addie stared at her.

  “He did, and apparently they spent a lot of time together.” Serena smiled smugly. “What I did know about Dean and then hearing what you asked got me thinking, so I discreetly asked Lacey, and she spilled how the two were inseparable for awhile. Peter was leading him on apparently about some get-rich-quick scheme, but it didn’t seem to happen, and Dean abruptly left LA and came back here.”

  “Maybe it did happen or is still happening.” Addie dashed to the board and began frantically writing. “Did Lacey mention what kind of reporter this Peter is, any stories he was working on?”

  “No, not really. I can try and get more from her if my cover’s not blown.” Serena glanced at Marc.

  “I expect mine to stay intact, too.” His eyes bored into hers.

  Serena nodded.

  Addie scribbled on the board and then turned around, beaming. “Ta-da!” She pointed in her game-show-host fashion.

  Marc leaned forward. His eyes scanned the board, murmurs escaping from his throat. Serena did the same. They looked at Addie in unison.

  “Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Addie grinned.

  Marc scratched his head. “So you really think this Peter fellow, from LA, is the same guy as the salt-and pepper man and the black-haired man you’ve seen with Jeanie?”

  Addie nodded smugly.

  His brow furrowed. “Why would he go to all that trouble, and for what?”

  Addie heaved a sigh and pointed to the board, tapping the line where she’d written original manuscript.

  “I’m lost.” Serena shook her head.

  Addie threw her hands up. “Okay, in black and white. Dean was one of only two people to read June’s original manuscript—which I found in the attic last night, by the way. In a hidden wall compartment, I might add.” She looked at Marc.

  “You found it? Is it still there?” Marc’s eyes lit up.

  “No, it’s safely tucked away in my aunt’s other hiding place—you know, the floor thing.” His gaze nearly undid her. “Anyway,” she ground out, “the only other person to read it was Blain, the chairman of the town council at the time and the one who squelched the publication of the original. Dean then went to LA, and as soon as he returned Blain apparently financed his charter boat business. My question was always—why would he do that? Dean was a flake according to some people. So maybe . . . Dean found out something on the West Coast that would benefit Blain?” She looked from Serena’s blank face to Marc’s.

  She shook her head when no epiphany flickered in either of their eyes. “It states in the town bylaws that all major town decisions regarding funding of programs has to be initially reviewed by at least two committee members, the chair and a member of his choosing, before it is taken to the entire committee for a vote. Just to save everyone’s time, I guess.” She shrugged. “So why wasn’t Dorothy selected? After all, she was June’s friend and original research partner. Because Dean was Blain’s errand boy, and someone he trusted wouldn’t turn against him. He must have had a quick review of the original and seen some fairly precise information about hidden treasure right under his feet and couldn’t risk it being published and becoming general knowledge.”

  Serena’s eyes widened. “You’ve read the original? It confirms there is a treasure?”

  “I haven’t found absolute proof yet, so I’m still surmising at this point, but it makes sense that there is.”

  Marc coughed. “Someone has treasure hunters’ fever.”

  “Maybe, but I’ve read enough lately to know that it’s a strong possibility.” She turned back to the board. “And you’re not the first to tell me that. So, as I was saying, Blain, who was chairman at the time, selected someone he knew he could trust, or persuade, or buy off, not to reveal what it contained as the other initial reviewing committee member.”

  “Okay,” Marc said, stroking his chin, “but how does this Peter fit into it?”

  “Not sure, exactly. Maybe he had further information or was the main funder in the operation. Maybe they were planning on digging up the town, or it may have been coincidence or timing. Perhaps it was something Lacey had mentioned to her brother about a story Peter was working on. I don’t know, maybe the story was about treasure hunters—”

  Marc looked up at her, a boyish gleam in his eyes. “I’m guessing you know all this because Peter contacted you for his story? Are you a treasure hunter in disguise?”

  She pressed her lips tight. “No. I was going to say that Lacey might have arranged for the two of them to meet so Dean could talk to Peter about June’s book for his story.”

  “Sounds pretty far-fetched to me.” Serena sat back down on the crate. “That means Lacey orchestrated whatever it is that transpired, and I don’t think she would, because she’s too focused on herself.”

  “True,” injected Marc, “but she is ambitious and maybe saw a future
news story there.”

  “The initial meeting and why and where remain a question mark, but I think these are all links and are a major key to what’s been happening and June’s murder,” Addie said, circling original manuscript, Peter a.k.a. Steven?? Dean, Lacey, and Jeanie, and then stabbing the chalk onto the board for emphasis.

  “Why Jeanie? Her mother was murdered. They had their issues like in any mother-daughter relationship, but to be a part of her death?” Serena shook her head. “I can’t buy that.”

  “I’m not saying she had anything to do with the actual murder, but she must have known the salt-and-pepper-haired man and the black-haired guy she calls Steven are the same man. Even I saw that.”

  “You’re right.” Marc rose to his feet. “She knows more than she’s telling.”

  “Yeah, and she thinks he’s a travel agent from Chicago, so she doesn’t know he might also be Peter, a reporter from LA.” Serena studied the board.

  Addie looked at the names she’d circled. “I’ve got to talk to Gloria. She can find out easily enough.”

  “I’m sorry. Did I miss the party invitation?”

  “Simon?” Addie spun around to face the voice that issued from the doorway. “No, of course not, come in. We were just discussing—”

  “Addie’s gut feelings,” laughed Serena.

  Marc rose to his feet and eyed Simon as he made his way into the crowded back room.

  “Well, I know she’s certainly made a believer out of me.” Simon’s gaze seemed to caress Addie.

  She felt that familiar blush rise up her collar whenever Simon set his eyes on her. “What? You’ve just now come to the realization that I might know a thing or two?” She fluttered her lashes, aware Marc’s attention was completely focused on their verbal banter.

  Chapter Thirty

  Simon stood back, studying the board. “I see you’ve made some headway since we last worked on this.”

  Marc turned away from Simon and stroked his neck, eyes fixed on the blackboard. “Yes, Miss Greyborne was just sharing some rather insightful information. Although, as a man of science, I’m not sure you’d catch the involutions of it, since most is speculation at this point and not black-and-white like science is.” He turned back and fixed his gaze on Simon.