Color Me Murder

by Krista Davis

  “Not that I’ve heard. I’m sure they’re looking at her current husband carefully, though. They always do.”

  “Is he the last person who saw her?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m not involved in the case. I think she lives up in the fourth district.” His eyes narrowed. “How did you find out?”

  I told him about the visit from the private investigator and what happened when I called Jacquie’s agent.

  “Florrie,” he said with a hint of polite warning in his tone, “just because she was married to Maxwell does not mean there’s a connection to Delbert’s murder.”

  “It doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection, either.”

  “Most of the time when a woman takes off like that it’s related to a domestic crisis of some kind. Her husband might have a mistress or maybe they had a big fight over money. A lot of things happen in marriages that cause separations. You should hear some of the calls we get when spouses argue. I’m betting she’ll turn up somewhere.”

  Like Agatha did. I hoped so. “Thanks. Keep me posted?”

  Jonquille smiled. “Of course.”

  After unloading the groceries, I took my frustrations out on a yeast dough, kneading it and rolling it out into a rectangle. I sprinkled it with cinnamon sugar and tiny wild blueberries from the Georgetown Farmers’ Market. Starting at the short end, I rolled it up and cut it into twelve slices, which I fit into a round baking pan, covered, and refrigerated. They would rise slowly overnight.

  I called all the delivery companies to change the delivery address back to the store, and stopped the call forwarding of the store telephone number.

  In the afternoon, I delivered the special-order books that had arrived. Color Me Read offered home delivery to customers who lived in the Georgetown area. Just a little perk to keep them coming to the bookstore. Of course, most of them asked about Maxwell or petted Frodo, so the trip around the neighborhood took longer than usual.

  It was good for me to get out, though Maxwell and the murder were on my mind the whole time.

  Chapter 19

  The sun streamed through my windows on Thursday morning. I could hear Peaches playing with something on the floor. Probably a hapless stinky bug. I stumbled out of bed and peered at her toy. Poor little bug. I scooped him up, flicked Peaches a crinkle toy to bat around, and tossed the bug out the window. Happily, he did not release his stink on my hand.

  Frodo and I trotted downstairs. I preheated the oven and removed the buns from the fridge. I put on coffee and drank my first cup while I let Frodo out in the garden to do his business.

  With the buns baking, I showered and dressed, and stepped into a dress the bluish-green color of sea glass. I slid my feet into sandals that glittered with bling. There was something so acceptable about bling on shoes. It was never too eye-catching or tacky. And it was appropriate at any time of day. Even on Keds. I eyed a boring pair in my closet and thought I really should dress them up.

  I could hear the timer on the oven downstairs. Peaches watched me, then sped ahead to the bottom of the stairs as if she thought something important would happen. Frodo ambled along with less interest.

  I took the buns out of the oven. The entire carriage house smelled heavenly of pastry.

  But I understood Peaches’s enthusiasm and didn’t forget her and Frodo. I spooned mackerel and chicken into Peaches’s bowl. She settled down to consume it. Frodo would have to wait a bit for his breakfast.

  I made a quick sugar glaze of powdered sugar and orange juice and drizzled it over the buns before I ate one. After all, I couldn’t give them away to other people if I didn’t try one and know they were edible. I pulled out three aluminum foil tins with lids and packed buns in them.

  Saddled with my purse and a bag with the food, I said, “Back soon for you” to Peaches, and locked the door behind me.

  There was no sign of a guard yet.

  I stopped at the mansion and rapped on the back door, which was unlocked. I stepped inside and found Felipe and Doris having coffee in the kitchen. I handed them buns I had packed for them.

  “There are some for Mr. DuBois, too. Do you think he can eat solid foods yet?”

  Doris laughed at me. “Sugar, he didn’t break any bones in his mouth. I’m sure he’ll love them.”

  I left them unwrapping the goodies and went to see Mr. DuBois. He was sitting up in a chair.

  “You’re looking much better! How do you feel?”

  “Groggy,” he mumbled. “Like I can’t quite get a grip on my thoughts.”

  “Maybe that’s the medicine? That feeling will probably clear up.”

  “I hope so. I don’t like having all these people lurking around. Can you make them go away?”

  “Mr. DuBois, I don’t think you’re ready to get up and walk around by yourself yet. And isn’t it a treat to have someone serving you for a change?”

  “Bah! They’re sneaking through the house. I hear them at night, you know. They think I’m asleep, but I hear their footsteps and voices. They have no business nosing around.”

  “I don’t think that’s the case. They’re usually in the kitchen when I arrive. Besides, they were hired by Ms. Strickland. She would have employed only the best people. I thought you would be happy to have a security guard on the premises.”

  He held out the hand that wasn’t in a cast. “Come closer, Florrie.”

  I crouched by him. Frodo wagged his tail and placed his head in Mr. DuBois’s lap.

  “The man who broke into the house was the one who killed Delbert. He would have murdered me, too, if we hadn’t heard the siren of the police car.”

  “What happened that night?”

  “I was asleep but not in deep slumber yet. I woke when someone opened the door to my room. I tell you, it’s a good thing I have a strong heart. I thought I might perish on the spot from fear. Luckily, the door closed. I don’t know if he saw me or not. I slid out of bed and tiptoed to the bust of Shakespeare on my shelf.”

  “Like the one in the bookstore? They’re very heavy.”

  “Indeed! That was what I wanted. I carried it with me and heard him walking up the stairs.”

  “You saw him? What did he look like?”

  “The lights were off, of course. What I saw was a mere shadow, dressed in dark clothing and wearing a hood.”

  “Could it have been a woman?” I asked.

  “It impressed me as a man, but perhaps it could have been a woman. The person walked into Maxwell’s room and ransacked the drawers like a savage. He was just grasping the Warhol, his back to me, when I rushed him and slammed Shakespeare into him. Alas, I didn’t lift it as high as I’d have liked. I missed his head and hit his shoulder. He turned on me and tried to grab my neck. I knew it would be curtains for me if he got a good hold. I scrambled away as fast as possible, fell down the stairs, and ran outside, intending to hide, but I tripped by the pool.”

  “It’s a good thing you called 911. Sergeant Jonquille arrived before I completed my call.”

  “I didn’t call 911. I never had a chance.”

  Clearly he was still confused. “Mr. DuBois, you shouldn’t have attacked him,” I chided.

  Mr. DuBois glared at me. “It’s my job.”

  He probably thought it was. “You’re a man of great honor and very brave. But I don’t think the professor would want you risking your life for anything.”

  “I would do it again!” he declared, raising his chin.

  I stood up. “You’d better not. What would Maxwell do without you?” I changed the subject, hoping to get some information. “Tell me about Maxwell’s wives.”

  “You promised you wouldn’t ask about personal matters regarding the Maxwells.”

  “I need to know if they could be suspects in Delbert’s murder.”

  His head snapped up, and he looked at me with wide eyes. “Unlikely, but I see your point. He married his first wife far too young. His parents were distraught because she wasn’t exactly the fine young lady of
which they had dreamed. The marriage lasted an entire year. She had the depraved disposition to commit murder, but she died many years ago.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “The second, of course, was the delightful Jacquie Liebhaber. They should have stayed married. If their daughter hadn’t been abducted, I suspect they would still be married today.”

  “They divorced because of their missing daughter?”

  “Essentially. Neither of them knew how to cope with that tragedy and they took it out on each other. In the end, they parted ways. Maxwell went on reckless and danger-fraught adventures, and Jacquie poured her anger and grief into her books.”

  “And the third?”

  “It’s highly unlikely that she would have murdered Delbert. She never cared for him, but the last I heard she had married a count from some tiny European nation and was living abroad. I never was certain that the new husband was actually nobility, but he pretended to be. Real counts don’t wear medals on their blazers.”

  So the only possible suspect out of the three was Jacquie. “Mr. DuBois, it pains me to ask this, but I must. Is the professor involved with anyone now?”

  He shot me a stern look. “Maxwell enjoys the company of ladies, but I’m sure I am not aware of the status of his relations with any of them.”

  Doris bustled in with a tray. “Would you like to sit out in the sun a bit, Mr. DuBois? Or perhaps you would like to join me in the kitchen?”

  I waved at him and called Frodo. He hadn’t mentioned the ghost, so maybe it had been a result of the drugs in his system, just as Doris had suggested.

  Frodo and I walked to the coffee shop to pick up coffee for Jim.

  When we approached Jim’s bench, he frowned at me. “You’re early this morning.”

  “I have a lot to do.”

  Nevertheless, I exchanged pleasantries with him for a few minutes, while he indulged in some dog love from Frodo.

  I couldn’t stay long, though. When we left, we rounded the corner at the end of the block and strolled along the alley in back of the bookstore. I unlocked the door, punched the code which everyone knew into the alarm, and wondered how to change it. I studied the alarm pad. I had never realized how unhelpful it was. It had buttons with the alphabet and buttons with 1, 2, 3, and 4. Hoping for the best, I pressed each of the letters sequentially. Nothing happened. Thankfully, there was a phone number on the pad. I called it from my cell phone.

  The man at the alarm company was able to walk me through changing the password to freeMaxwell. Feeling better about the safety of the store, I retrieved a good-sized metal dolly. Color Me Read was ominously quiet. I looked forward to bringing it back to life very shortly.

  Frodo and I returned to the carriage house with the dolly. When we entered, there was no sign of Peaches.

  “Peaches! Here, kitty, kitty.”

  I listened for the sound of her jumping off a chair. There was only silence.

  “Cats can be so annoying, Frodo. They do what they want and have selective hearing. See if you can find her.”

  Frodo just wagged his tail.

  I loaded boxes of books that had been ordered before the murder onto the dolly and fastened them with a bungee cord. “Peaches!”

  I spied her sitting on the stairs, watching me. “You used to greet me at the door.”

  As if apologizing, she purred and slinked around my ankles.

  I picked her up, placed her in her carrier, and set off for the store with Peaches, Frodo, and the dolly laden with books. It was slow going, but we made it there safely.

  I pushed the dolly through the back door, locked it, and let Peaches out of her carrier to explore. Meanwhile, I turned on the coffee pot and the music. I walked through the store switching on lights, and it slowly came back to life like it had only been in a deep slumber.

  As I was turning the CLOSED sign to OPEN, Bob and Helen arrived, followed by the UPS deliveryman, who unloaded boxes of books for us.

  Bob bubbled with enthusiasm. For a minute, I thought he might kiss the wall.

  Helen scowled, clearly not as delighted but looking gorgeous, as always. I wouldn’t have been caught dead in her tight pencil skirt the color of storm clouds. The fabric must have been part spandex because it hugged her like a plastic bag with the air sucked out of it. Her black tank top was surely cool for the hot summer day ahead but it wasn’t my style.

  She removed oversized Jackie O sunglasses and marched up to me.

  “I wish you wouldn’t feed that homeless fellow outside. Honestly, Florrie, you’re only encouraging him to continue that lifestyle. He needs to go to a shelter where they can help him. Not to mention that he’s hurting the store’s image by hanging around here every morning.”

  I recoiled. “He’s a nice man, Helen. Please don’t make any trouble for him.”

  “Well, I don’t like him being here. He gives me the creeps.”

  I set her to work organizing the books that had just arrived.

  She heaved a huge sigh before she bent to open the boxes.

  “I’ll do that,” Bob volunteered.

  Helen wandered to the door and looked out.

  “What’s with her?” I hissed to Bob.

  Helen must have heard me because she turned around. “I had the best time with my new honey, but now he hasn’t called me. Not for two whole days. It was so nice to have a vacation from work. We could have spent more time together. We could have taken a drive out in the country or . . .”

  Oh good grief. I tuned her out. A man was murdered in the bookstore. The owner was in jail, and she was moony over some guy she barely knew? “If you’re going to stare out the window, why don’t you change the display windows and freshen them up? Feature coloring books and colored pencils in one, and books by Emily Branscom in the other.”

  She groaned.

  But at that moment, Zsazsa and Goldblum bounded in.

  Zsazsa spread her arms wide and twirled like Julie Andrews had in the mountains in The Sound of Music. “The smell of books and coffee—I’m home!”

  Goldblum grinned at her.

  “And who’s this? A cat! Every bookstore needs a cat.” Zsazsa reached out to pet Peaches, who was sitting at attention next to the cash register as if she were an Egyptian cat statue.

  Peaches purred so loud we could all hear her over the music.

  “That’s my kitty, Peaches. She’s not a permanent employee, but I thought I’d bring her in and see how she does. She’s acting a little different in our new quarters.”

  “That’s nothing to worry about. We all need time to adjust to a new home. Especially cats. They’re so sensitive.” Zsazsa helped herself to coffee.

  Peaches jumped down to the floor and followed Zsazsa as she ambled through the bookstore.

  “Has my special order arrived?” asked Goldblum.

  Bob pointed his forefinger in the air. “I was just unpacking it. Murder in the Nineteenth Century?”

  “Precisely.”

  A woman walked in looking for books on seventeenth-century Paris. I led her to the section where she would find them. Just like that, we were up and running again.

  The morning progressed smoothly until Sergeant Jonquille stopped by. His presence shouldn’t have made me nervous, but he looked so serious.

  “I just came by to tell you that the fingerprints we took from the professor’s house didn’t turn up on any of the databases we checked. In fact, there was a surprising absence of fingerprints, which suggests that the burglar wore gloves. It was probably someone who has done that before.”

  “Oh please! Even I know to wear gloves,” I cried.

  He tried to hide a laugh. “So do you have any alternate suspects for me yet?”

  I was ashamed to realize that I had concentrated on reopening the bookstore instead of the poor professor, who was rotting away in jail. I wasn’t about to admit that I didn’t have any super leads. “Delbert ruined his roommate’s career. If anyone wanted to kill him, Lance Devereoux certa
inly had a good motive.”

  “Why murder him here in the bookstore?”

  He had a point. “I don’t know. It’s bizarre that Delbert was here at all. It raises so many questions. Like whether he had a key and knew the alarm password. And whether he invited his killer to join him.”

  Jonquille shot me a coy look. “Or whether his uncle caught him in the bookstore.”

  I raised my chin in defiance. “Even if he had, Maxwell wouldn’t have murdered him. Hey, do you know a big, burly guy with a butterfly tattoo just above his elbow?”

  Jonquille raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think so. Did something happen with a guy like that?”

  “He was asking questions about Delbert.”

  Now I had Jonquille’s interest. “He asked you questions?”

  “No, he was asking around at Club Neon.”

  “Don’t tell me you go to that place.”

  Every fiber of my being wanted to pretend to be cool. “I’ve been there.”

  “Well, stay away from big, burly guys with butterfly tattoos, okay?”

  And then it happened. An event I had never considered. My mother and Norman’s mom, Mrs. Spratt, walked into Color Me Read and marched right up to me.

  “Florrie!” cried my mom. “Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?”

  Chapter 20

  I stared at my mother in shock. Norman must have told his mother, who blabbed to my mom. Unfortunately, Mrs. Spratt was now standing right beside my mother, her eyes trained on me, waiting to hear my answer. I couldn’t tell my mother the truth in front of her friend without insulting Mrs. Spratt and creating havoc. Why wasn’t I better at lying? I felt the moment of silence stretching out as I cast about for a response. “The relationship isn’t that far along yet, Mom. We’re not quite ready to meet families.”

  Mom looked at me with disbelief. “Still, you could have told me. What else don’t I know?”

  Why hadn’t I prepared for this? Drat that Norman!

  “Who is this lucky young man?” asked Norman’s mom.

  I scrambled for a plausible response. “Just someone I met in the bookstore.”