Murder in the First Edition

by Lauren Elliott

  “I think what I said earlier about him is right on. He is a professional something.”

  “Exactly. He knew Serena and I went to the Grey Gull Inn looking for Marvin Gibson. He’s like a freaking ghost, and it’s gotten me thinking.”

  He groaned. “Please don’t do that.”

  “Why not? I happen to have great thoughts.”

  He ran a finger down her cheek. “It’s been a long day already, and I still have to go to work.”

  “Just hear me out for a minute. Something interesting happened during lunch, and I think it means more than I first thought. Crystal set her phone on the table, saying that she hoped no one would object during the meal, but that she was waiting for an important call.”

  “She was probably waiting to hear how Patrick was. He is her boss, and they do have the auction coming up.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know all that, but then Jonathan set his phone right beside hers and made a joke that if anyone complained, they’d have to get mad at him, too.”

  Simon shrugged. “It sounds like he was only being polite.”

  “Could be.” Addie’s finger rubbed over her bottom lip. “She kept glancing at her phone, but it didn’t ring, and I didn’t see her reading any messages.”

  “Okay, so what?”

  “After I went into the kitchen, did you ever see her on it?”

  “I was mostly talking to Jack about a new surgical mesh.” He rubbed his neck. “Let’s see. You left the table, and then she leaned over and asked me how Patrick was doing. I told her he was in good condition and mostly likely going to be released within a day or two. Yes, then she received a text, you came back, and she got up to leave.”

  “Then Jonathan got a message and left shortly after?” She flopped her head back against the seat. “Go with me on this. I’m just throwing ideas out there. Whatever his attraction to Crystal is might not be in the romance department as I first suspected, but she must be connected to the whole thing somehow.”

  “Maybe,” he shrugged, “but how? There’s been no proof.”

  “His partner? What if she has the book and it was her who sent him the text telling him to come get it?”

  “But she left the hospital first, and she was the one with an armful of whatever. He was empty-handed.”

  “You’re right. But what if he, because as you said is a professional whatever, used his phone to—”

  “What, clone hers?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Yes, and maybe she is completely innocent, and Jonathan wanted to be able to clone her texts and calls on his phone, so he always knows what’s going on? Patrick was Teresa’s assistant. What if Jonathan is working with him, but he’s afraid Patrick might be trying to double-cross him?” She frowned. “But how does Marvin fit into all this? Is he a partner, too?”

  Simon snorted, grinning. “I don’t know, is he?”

  “Maybe Marvin’s just irked about buying a ticket for a book sale with a disappearing book.”

  “That sounds more logical to me. I think you’ve been reading too many Ian Fleming – type novels and making this all more cloak-and-daggery than it really is.” He shook his head. “Cloned phones? Major conspiracy plots? What’s next?”

  “Did Patrick ever identify who it was that struck him and tied him up in the closet.”

  “Nope, he said whoever it was hit him from behind.”

  “What if—”

  His hand flew up. “Whatever it is you’re thinking, just stop. Please just back off from your own personal sleuthing escapades and take whatever it is you’re thinking to Marc right away. We have no idea what’s really going on, and I am afraid you are the one who will end up getting hurt trying to figure it out.”

  A shrill, emergency siren ring tone on his phone shrieked. He read the message twice before looking at her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Simon scratched his head. “I really don’t know. It’s Dr. Harris. He just administered Naloxone to Patrick.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Narcan.” His thumbs clicked across the face of his phone. “It reverses narcotic overdoses. I have to go and see what happed.”

  “I thought he was doing better? Why is he on narcotics?”

  “He had a couple of cracked ribs that are still causing a lot of pain, but he’s on a minimal dosage, so I don’t understand how he could overdose.” His lips set in a grim line. “I just don’t get it.”

  Chapter 18

  “How did your car get here?” Serena pulled into her spot in the alley behind their shops.

  “I have no idea.” Addie shrugged. “Last I checked it was still under three feet of snow in the police parking lot.” Addie stared in disbelief at her completely snow-free Mini Cooper.

  “A guardian angel, maybe?”

  “I guess so. I’d better see what Paige knows about it. Thanks for the lift.”

  “Thanks for my morning coffee.” Serena raised her travel mug in a salute.

  Addie opened the back door of her store greeted by the sounds of Christmas carols drifting from the front of the shop followed by a round of applause and cheers. “What’s going on?” She flung her coat across the desk and headed into the bookstore in time to see a group dressed in classic Dickens period costumes leaving.

  Paige hurried toward her. “You just missed the town carolers. They were awesome.”

  “That’s too bad. I could use a bit of Christmas cheer today.”

  “But before I forget, Marc told me when he dropped off your car that you’ll have to get the door lock fixed. He said it broke when they opened it to hot-wire it so they could bring it here.”

  “He broke into my car?” Her eyes flashed. “Why didn’t he just ask for the key? Better yet, just text and ask me to pick it up if they wanted it off the lot.”

  She winced. “He wanted to surprise you.”

  “Yeah, nice surprise,” Addie spouted, her voice holding a bite. “I returned your car, but it will cost you three hundred dollars.”

  “He said for me to tell you that he’d pay for it.”

  Addie’s cheeks warmed. “I guess in that case he’s off the hook, and I’ll appreciate the gesture.” She rounded a bookshelf and stopped, blinked, and blinked again. Were her eyes deceiving her, or was the white-haired, full-figured woman seated at the counter sipping a cup of coffee and reading actually Martha. She looked back at Paige, then back at Martha, and then back at Paige.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Paige whispered. “The furnace in the bakery is on the fritz, and she’s waiting for the repair guy to come.”

  “Of course, I don’t mind,” she whispered back. “I just can’t believe that she’s really in my shop.”

  Paige grinned. “It is a good start, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is.” Addie straightened her shoulders and leisurely walked to the coffeemaker, dropped a pod in, and smiled at her unexpected guest. “Hello, Martha, I see you found something to read.”

  Martha harrumphed and shoved the book across the counter.

  “The Joy of Cooking by Irma S. Rombauer.” Addie tapped her finger on the cover. “Now, there’s a real classic.”

  Without looking up, Martha drummed the fingers of her left hand on the counter and sipped her coffee in her right.

  “You know. A customer brought in a few more of those last week. I haven’t had the time to price them yet or get them on the shelves, but I do remember seeing The Joy of Cooking: Squares & Cookies and The Joy of Cooking Christmas Cookies in there. You might like those for your bakery.” She waited for some sort of acknowledgment from Martha, but there was nothing.

  Hovering beside Addie, Paige spun around and disappeared into the back. When she returned, she presented Addie with the two books and a third one she’d found, The Joy of Cooking Cakes. Addie’s face lit up, and she set the books on the counter. “Here they are, just as I remembered.” She pushed them toward Martha and went about her business, just out of Martha’s line of sight, occasionally glancing to see if
the bait worked.

  Martha drained her coffee cup, still drumming her fingers, and then stopped. Her hand inched across the counter and caressed the spine of the Squares & Cookies edition. Paige nudged Addie’s arm. Addie’s hand flew up to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

  Martha glanced to either side of her and then pulled the book toward her. A grin spread across Addie’s face, but then shriveled when the furnace repair truck pulled into a parking spot out front of the store. Martha pushed the book away and started to head out. Addie grabbed the books and stopped Martha at the door.

  “Here, Martha. Merry Christmas.” She smiled down at Martha’s pudgy, paling cheeks. Martha looked at the books and then back at Addie, surprise in her eyes. “Please, take them as my gift to you.” She held them out to her. Martha took the books from her hands and nearly, very nearly smiled, and left.

  Addie let out a deep breath, turned to Paige, and grinned. “Fingers crossed that things might start to change between us.”

  Paige held up crossed fingers. “Yup, let’s hope.”

  Addie returned to the counter and totaled up what she owed her consignment customer for the three Christmas cookbooks, wrote out an IOU, and slipped it into the cash register drawer, then noted the total in her receipt book. Over her head a husky voice cleared his throat. She looked up into Marc’s rather sheepish face.

  “I suppose Paige told you what happened.” He toyed with the rim of his cap.

  Addie nodded.

  “Sorry.” He winced. “It was an accident. Jerry was jimmying the lock open and something inside the doorframe popped, and then we couldn’t get the door to lock again.”

  “If you wanted me to move it off the lot, why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “I was trying to surprise you.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You know, do something nice for you?”

  She let out a deep, slow breath. “Then why didn’t you just ask for the key?”

  He shuffled his feet again and looked down at the floor.

  “Well?”

  “I heard you were out with Simon all day yesterday, and I was afraid he’d still be there this morning.”

  She flipped her head. Her ponytail swung around, slapping her face. She glared at him and marched toward the book cart at the end of the counter.

  “Addie, I’m sorry. I’m trying. I really am, but the whole thing with you two makes me crazy.”

  Her lips tightened. She grabbed two books off the cart and tossed them to the side, sending them skidding across the counter. “I’ve told you a hundred times before that we don’t have that kind of relationship.”

  He scrubbed his hand through his hair.

  “And since you know everything, as you assume to, then you know he worked all night in the ER.” She crossed her arms. “As a matter of fact, he got called in early last night because he had to treat Patrick.”

  “Patrick? What happened?”

  She looked at him. “So, you don’t know everything.”

  “Last I heard he was being discharged tomorrow.”

  “See, I can admit it when I don’t know something. I wish you could and would stop making assumptions.”

  “I guess I deserved that.” He put his cap on and turned toward the door, the bells giving a merry jingle as he opened it and closed it behind him.

  She leaned on the counter, cupping her chin in her hand. Addie pulled out her phone from her boyfriend jacket pocket, her fingers flying across the keypad. SOS, need to meet for lunch, say noon??? . . . Your pigheaded brother attacks again. She hoped she’d feel like eating by then, because right now her stomach was full of churning acid.

  A woman dropped a stack of books down in front of her. “It looks like you found what you were looking for.” Addie laughed and pulled a shopping bag out from under the counter.

  “And then some. I think this completes my Christmas shopping list.” She eyed the early edition of The Joy of Cooking still sitting on the counter and tossed it on top of her other purchases. “My husband’s been telling me for years that I need this.” She grinned as Addie rang her books through.

  “Is that just a suggestion because it’s considered by Julia Child to be the bible of all cookbooks, or is he hinting at something else?”

  “It means that he’s tired of doing all the cooking, and now it’s my turn.” The customer huffed out an exaggerated breath.

  “Maybe you could just pretend you didn’t see it today.”

  The woman laughed, pulling out her wallet. “That’s tempting, but after thirty years, I guess it’s only fair I take my turn.” She wished Addie a Merry Christmas and left, the door chimes jingling over her head, a sound that went nonstop for the remainder of the morning.

  Exhaustion gnawed at her bones, and even though Addie loved the fact that books were flying out the door, she struggled with small talk with her customers. She almost wept with joy when the clock struck twelve and Serena’s beaming face greeted her across the counter.

  “You are punctual today, aren’t you?” chuckled Addie. Serena held up four bagged lunches, grinning. “And hungry, or are we expecting company?”

  Serena slid onto a stool. “No, I thought if you didn’t mind, we could send Paige next door to eat with Elli.”

  “Good plan. Paige.” She called her assistant to the front. “How’s it looking back there?”

  Paige stretched out her back. “Pretty good right now. We always seem to have a lull around this time of day.”

  Serena held up two lunch bags. “Why don’t you take your break now and go have lunch with Elli?”

  Paige’s eyes lit up. “Thanks.” She grabbed the lunch bags and her coat from under the counter and dashed off.

  Serena opened her paper bag and pulled a sandwich bun out and chomped into it. “Mmm, I needed this. I think everyone in town’s been in this morning, finishing off their shopping,” she said between mouthfuls.

  “I know.” Addie bit into her chicken salad sandwich. “It’s been the same for me.”

  “So, what did my idiot brother do now?” Serena took another bite.

  Addie relayed how he had returned her car, broken door lock and all, and their following conversation about his assumption that Simon had spent the night. Serena stuffed the last of her roll into her mouth and looked at Addie. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Me? There’s nothing I can do. We can’t even speak civilly to each other anymore. He’s always jumping to conclusions about me and Simon. He’s short and snappy about everything.”

  “He’s short and snappy with everyone these days, even Mom and Dad.”

  “Is he sick or something? Is there anything you need to tell me?” Serena’s silence had Addie’s hairs standing on end. “What is it? God, he isn’t sick, is he?”

  “Yeah, he is.” Serena leaned closer and whispered, “He’s love-sick, he mopes around, doesn’t sleep, won’t eat. What else would you call it?”

  “Love-sick? Over whom?”

  “You, silly.”

  “Me?” She emphatically shook her head. “No, no way.”

  “How can you be so smart and yet so clueless? He asks about you at least ten times a day.”

  “I’ll admit we’ve always had some sort of attraction, but love? No, it’s too soon.”

  “For you maybe, as you keep telling him, but obviously not for him. Why do you think he gets so upset when he knows you’re with Simon? He’s thinking you just didn’t want him, and it makes him crazy.”

  She went cold. “I thought we were just good friends with, you know, a few benefits like the odd kiss.” She licked her lips. “He is a very good kisser.”

  “As Simon must be, too.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “You’ve never kissed Simon?”

  She shook her head. “Almost once, but no.”

  “Well, then you have to remedy that before you can make an informed choice. But my BFF advice is to stop flirting with the two of them and decide on one of the
m.”

  “I’m not flirting. I’m . . . I’m just being friendly.”

  “Is that what it’s called? I think you’ve taken a page right out of Marc’s ex’s book.”

  Addie’s mouth dropped open. “Are you actually comparing me to her?”

  “Well, you’ve been stringing them both along until”—her fingers made quotation marks—“you are ready.”

  Addie’s cheeks puffed out.

  “Just saying.” She shrugged and tossed her lunch bag in the trash can.

  “But Marc’s been so nasty lately. He’s become hard to even like.”

  “Just remember he’s new at all this and never had to try to win over a woman before. His ex, Lacey, had him cornered since they were in middle school. But I’d better get back. I don’t want Elli thinking long lunch breaks are normal. She’s kind of a handful about following good business practices, anyway.”

  Addie stared down at her half-eaten sandwich, barely aware that Serena was still talking. Her mind raced over the past months. Marc, Simon, and her, was she just a flirt? Had she really become one of those girls she detested in college? Worse yet, was she no different than Lacey and her butterfly lashes?

  “Did you hear what I said? I’m going now.”

  Addie looked up at her. “Right. Yeah, I heard she needed to be kept on a short leash.”

  Serena’s brows rose to her cherry-red hairline. “Who told you that? Never mind. Doesn’t matter.” She patted Addie’s shoulder and paused. “I almost forgot. Yesterday after you left Catherine’s, did you happen to see Jonathan’s Land Rover broken down on the side of the road anywhere?”

  “No, why?”

  “Because he never got back to Catherine’s until Zach and I were leaving at about seven.”

  “What? He left around two thirty. He was out getting cigarettes till then?”

  “Yup.”

  “What did Catherine say?”

  “Nothing, he came in and apologized, said his car broke down, and that he needed a hot shower to warm up, and then said he’d be back down in a few minutes.”

  “But his Land Rover is brand new.”

  “That’s what I thought, and if he did break down, why didn’t he at least call. One of us could have picked him up.”