Murder in the First Edition

by Lauren Elliott

  Serena howled and slipped off the edge of her stool. Caught herself before she hit the floor, and pulled herself upright, a serious look glued across her face. She straightened her shoulders, cleared her throat, locked her fingers together on the countertop, and looked up at Addie. “In all seriousness, though, are you going to the meeting?”

  “What meeting?”

  “The auction donator’s meeting. Didn’t you get the e-mail?”

  Addie scrolled through the e-mails on her phone. “No, when was it sent?”

  “About an hour ago. Apparently, Patrick was released this morning and has asked all the local dona-tors to attend a meeting in the event room at two o’clock.”

  “Why wouldn’t he invite me?” She shoved her phone back into her pocket.

  Serena’s lips pursed. “Maybe because he doesn’t want to have to say in front of you, and all the other merchants, that he still hasn’t found the sixty-thousand-dollar missing book you entrusted to him for safekeeping.”

  “Yeah, and I might start asking questions that would embarrass him in front of half the town.” Addie smiled. “So, it’s settled. I’m going with you.”

  * * *

  They stepped off the elevator on the lower level. Serena scurried to the event room, and Addie took a detour to Simon’s office, clenched her fist, and knocked on the door.

  “If you’re looking for Simon”—a pretty dark-haired nurse paused, a flush rising up her neck—“I mean, Dr. Emerson, I think he just got called up to the emergency department.”

  Addie thanked her and followed the woman down the hall, noting how her nursing scrubs clung just enough around her trim frame to show off her flawless figure, and when she walked, her long dark braid swung across her back in perfect rhythm with her shapely hips. Addie sighed with envy and turned down the corridor toward the meeting room. She slipped through the door and took a place along the sidewall beside two smartly dressed men in suits and ties.

  Patrick was beginning to make an announcement to the large group, and Addie’s attention was diverted from the two men when Patrick’s high-pitched voice cracked over the loudspeaker attempting to be heard over the murmurings of the crowd.

  “If I could have your attention, please.” He thudded a gavel on the surface of the podium, bringing a hush to the room. “As foundation representative, I have called this meeting to inform you that I plan to go ahead with the silent auction and dinner.” Mixed whispers of approval and discontent spread through the crowd. “Despite the foundation’s recent loss of our beloved Teresa Lang and the woman I came to know and care for deeply.” He bowed his head and crossed his heart, sucked in a deep breath, and continued. “She would have wanted her work to carry on despite the tragedy and setbacks that have plagued this worthwhile event. However”—his arms rose to quiet the increasing murmurs—“due to conditions out of my control, the live auction planned for A Christmas Carol will not be proceeding. In addition, because of the recent weather resulting in road closures, the date of the gala will be changed to December thirty-first.”

  His quivering voice rose over the rumblings that rippled through the crowed room. His hands rose in another attempt to regain control, and he went on to explain that this minor modification was necessary as any other date chosen in the future would make the Christmas decorations, already purchased, a useless expense, which would impact the community work the foundation would be able to conduct in the following year.

  The room quieted, and he proceeded to explain that the event would now be promoted as the New Year’s Eve Gala and Silent Auction, which allowed more time for marketing and would perhaps draw in a larger crowd because it was after Christmas, and people were likely to be less busy with family and holiday commitments. Addie snickered to herself at the adoption of an all-too-familiar plan. Serena, seated in the back row, twisted her head to look around, caught sight of Addie, and grinned.

  A man Addie didn’t recognize leapt to his feet. “I sold tickets to friends who are planning a New Year’s Eve cruise. What happens to them?” he shouted. “Are they just out of luck with the money they spent for tickets?”

  Whispers and jeers of support crept through the crowded room. Patrick held up his hand, regaining their attention. “Not at all, please be assured that anyone who purchased tickets who cannot attend on the new date due to conflicts with time or because of the discontinuation of the book auction will have all their money refunded.” This was met with murmurs of approval from the group. “The hospital board has guaranteed to inject the foundation with the money needed to refund those ticket holders in full.”

  “You promised him that?” the gray-haired man beside Addie snapped at his companion.

  “We really didn’t have any choice, Walter. He showed me the foundation books. It’s broke.”

  Addie took a deep breath and inched her way along the wall closer to the two men when their voices dropped.

  “I’ll tell you, Dan, that doesn’t make sense to me. As chairman of the hospital board, I have been in every monthly budget meeting with Teresa. Her books have always shown a surplus, so what happened between last month and this?”

  “I know. When the finance department did the last quarterly review of her department, the ledgers showed there should be more than enough to cover the costs of this year’s gala and then some.”

  “So, then why does Patrick need an emergency budget increase for these tickets he has to refund?” His face reddened. “I have to get to a board of directors meeting, but I want you and your department to go through those books with a fine-tooth comb.”

  The man he’d called Dan nodded. “Look—” Walter leaned toward him and glanced at Addie, who quickly refocused on the crowd in the room. His voice turned to a hushed whisper. “I’m not accusing him of anything, but something’s not adding up.”

  “But, Walter, Patrick is a pretty stand-up guy. Teresa was more than happy with his work this past year, and I know her accident shook him up pretty bad.”

  “As it did all of us.” Walter’s nostrils flared. “You should never have approved that event budgetary increase without going through my office first.”

  Dan, the stocky, dark-haired man, nodded.

  “Just get back to me as soon as you can.” He turned and started toward the door.

  “Sure thing.” Dan blew out a deep breath. Addie looked at him and smiled. His jaw tightened and on rather shaky-looking legs, he also turned and left the event room.

  Addie let out a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding.

  Serena waved her hand in front of Addie’s face. “Hello, anyone home in there?”

  Addie stared at her. “Sorry, just thinking.”

  “Pretty cool. He finally did what we suggested.”

  “I’m not sure everyone else agreed, but what else could he do? The roads are only starting to reopen, and he still doesn’t have the book.”

  “They’ll come around when it sinks in that they just have to mark a different date on their calendars, and no one is going to lose anything.”

  Addie caught sight of Patrick chatting with a group of merchants by the door, her eyes narrowing. “Yeah, I guess it’s a win-win for everyone, isn’t it?”

  Serena linked her arm through Addie’s as they headed for the elevator. The door opened and Simon darted out, slamming right into Addie. He grabbed her shoulders, bracing them both.

  “We really do have to stop meeting like this.” She gave a hesitant smile.

  His eyes darkened to a shade of tidal-wave blue. “Yes, we do.” He released her as if burned.

  She twisted her purse strap around her clammy hand. “Funny, me running into you like this. A little while ago I went to your office and—”

  “Look, Addie”—he backed away—“I really have to go. I’ve got . . . got a thing.” He pointed down the hall toward his office. “Have to run.”

  “But I just wanted to talk for a minute, you know about—”

  “If it’s about the case, then
talk to Marc.” He turned his back on her. “I’ve just sent him over the final findings. I’m sure he’ll be very happy to help you with whatever it is you want.”

  Stunned by the sting that his words left behind, Addie could only watch him walk away.

  Chapter 24

  Addie sat in Serena’s Jeep, staring out the windshield, seeing nothing.

  “Okay, spill.” Serena turned on the vehicle but kept it in park.

  Addie shook her head, fighting the tears that burned at the back of her eyes.

  “I mean it. We’re not moving from this spot until you tell me exactly what happened between you and Simon.” Serena reached over and pressed her fingers to the side of Addie’s jaw, forcing Addie to look at her. “Whatever happened seems a bit more serious than you let on.”

  “That’s the thing. I really don’t know what happened.” Through tears and the occasional hiccup, Addie explained her recent dealings with Simon, from the tree lighting to her uninvited Christmas dinner guest status.

  Serena squeezed her hand. “Well, you certainly aren’t going to be alone for Christmas, that I can guarantee. You’ll spend it with us.” She slammed the Jeep into drive and pulled onto Main Street.

  “Don’t be silly. I can’t. Your mom and dad, and Marc?” Her voice faltered on Marc’s name.

  Serena gave her a side glance, her eyes twinkling. “Mom and Dad are going to my aunt’s in New Hampshire, and Marc is working extra shifts so that more of the crew can have Christmas off, you have no excuses.” She pulled into her parking spot in the alley. “It’ll be just Zach and me, and now you.”

  “But do you want me to intrude on your first Christmas together.”

  “To be honest, yes, I’m used to having a houseful around and well—”

  “It’s a deal, then. We’ll be the Three Musketeers.”

  Serena drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Can we have dinner at your house, then?”

  Addie eyed the delicious-looking snowbank outside the back door of the shop. “Ah, yeah”—she bent over, grabbed a handful of snow, and formed a perfect ball—“that should work.”

  “What a relief. Otherwise, we’d have to eat at House of Sushi, and, well, I don’t think—” A snowball to Serena’s chest cut her off. “Two can play that game.”

  A few seconds later, a snowball landed on Addie’s jacket hood, sending snow down her back. “That’s it. War!” Addie gave a war whoop and descended upon Serena, throwing snowballs and dodging behind Dumpsters.

  When Serena cornered her, Addie held her hands up. “I surrender.”

  Even though Serena’s smile resembled that of a Cheshire cat, Addie allowed her to hoist her to her feet. “First rule of snowball fights? Don’t trust the enemy.” With a laugh, Serena playfully shoved Addie into a snowbank.

  Addie landed face first in the snow, sputtering out a mouthful just as Martha’s back door opened. Her flour-covered face peered out. She harrumphed and slammed the door. Addie snorted, brushing snow off herself. She stumbled to her feet and kicked snow in Serena’s direction. Serena gathered another snowball and aimed.

  Addie threw her hands up. “Stop, I give up, uncle. Not fair. You grew up with a brother.”

  “Feel better?” Serena panted and dropped the snowball.

  Addie swept snow from under her jacket collar. “What was this, therapy?”

  Serena giggled, trying to catch her breath. “The best kind ever.”

  In the back room of her shop, Addie glanced in the mirror as she passed and stopped short. “Yeesh!” She fluffed at the stringy wet hair strands stuck to the sides of her face like honey-blond octopus tentacles, but it was no use. The pouf she worked so hard to achieve in her bangs every morning was definitely done for the day. She took out her workday ponytail, wrapped her hair, and pinned it up in a tight topknot, giving her the appearance of a stern librarian. Act like a crazy book lady, look like a crazy book lady. She shrugged and headed to the storefront.

  Paige looked at her, did a double take, and went back to assisting a customer. Addie glanced over her shoulder, but there was no mistaking the smirk on Paige’s face. Addie stopped when a woman, whose eye contact flitted between Addie’s eyes and her instant face-lift hairdo, inquired about a children’s version of A Christmas Carol, one that would be suitable for her eight-year-old grandson. Addie took her to the Young Reader’s section and pulled out an illustrated copy. The woman added it to her armful of books and followed Addie to the sales counter. She ignored the snickers and curious glances from customers as she passed by them. Jonathan appeared from around the corner of a bookshelf, slid onto a counter stool, and flipped open the newspaper.

  When the woman left, a faint snigger could be heard from behind his paper shield. “Love the new look. It has that vintage schoolmarm-librarian thing going on.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Did you just come in here to insult me?”

  “Not at all. Catherine’s in here somewhere finishing her shopping,” he said without looking up from the newspaper. “Me, I’m just passing time.”

  “Then I’ll go and assist her. At least she won’t insult me.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” he chuckled from behind his paper barrier.

  Addie didn’t get far. Catherine dropped an armload of books down in front of her. “There, I think I’m finally finished.” She fished around in her large tote bag for her wallet. “Paige was such a great help. She is a wonder, isn’t she? There it is.” She pulled her wallet out and stared at Addie, a smirk fighting for space on her befuddled face.

  Addie smiled sweetly and rang up Catherine’s purchases, aware that Catherine’s eyes never left her hair. Addie, without looking at her, explained the perils of a snowball fight.

  Catherine’s lips pulled back into a grin. “Sorry I missed it. Sounds and looks like fun. It’s been ages since I’ve thrown a snowball.”

  Jonathan laid his paper on the counter and patted Addie’s hand. “Whatever the reason for the change in appearance today, you look lovely, my dear.”

  “Liar.” She snatched her hand away from his, and for the first time noted a momentary tic in his cheek.

  “It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” Was he talking about her hair or their relationship, which had imploded? Answering that question, he stood up and reached around the back of her head, undid her topknot, fluffed her hair, and scrunched her bangs. “Now, give it good shake, and you’ll just look like someone who had fun playing in the snow.”

  Addie scooted away from him. “Don’t. Touch. Me,” she bit out. Thankful Catherine’s attention had been diverted by a screaming toddler who insisted upon having a cookie right now.

  “You know, my dear”—he ignored Addie’s bared teeth and clasped Catherine’s hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the tips of her fingers—“a romp in the snow is exactly what we should do before we go home today.”

  Addie gripped the edge of the counter. Did he just call Catherine’s house home?

  “After all, I did miss out on all this fun when I was in Australia last year for Christmas, and what better way to celebrate the season than having a good, old-fashioned snowball fight.”

  Catherine’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Could we? At our age?”

  “We won’t know if we don’t try.” He grinned. “Thanks for the coffee, Addie. We’ll be back to pick up the books, and by then, I’m sure both of us will look far worse than you thought you did.”

  Addie’s eyes remained fixed on the two as they giggled like school kids all the way out the door. Australia? Her face scrunched up in concentration. She snapped her fingers and headed for the back room. “Paige, call me if you need help,” she said as she passed her in the Mystery book aisle.

  Addie whisked the cover from the board and wrote furiously, the chalk spitting and sputtering with: Tetrodotoxin. Puffer fish? Blue-ringed octopus? Pacific and Indian oceans, from Japan to Australia. Circling the last word, she read back what she’d written beside Jonathan’s name. She tos
sed the cover back over the blackboard and headed to the front to find Paige. Searching the aisles, she finally located her assisting a customer in the Poetry section in the far back corner of the shop. “Are you okay here for a few minutes?”

  “Yup.” Page looked at the young man she was serving. “We’re fine.”

  Addie couldn’t miss the sidelong glances between the two hunched over, head-to-head in the corner with a copy of The Major Works of John Keats.

  “Good, I’ll be back soon, just have a quick errand to run.”

  A slow smile tugged at the corners of Paige’s lips. Addie turned away. Her little Paige appeared to be falling for a very eye-catching young gentleman, who she hoped wouldn’t distract her from her other duties. One-to-one customer service was great, but not at the expense of the rest. She made a mental note to discuss this with Paige later, but right now she was on a mission.

  * * *

  Addie drummed her fingers at the vacated police reception counter. Even Marc’s office was empty. Where was everybody? Five minutes of sheer boredom later found Addie in Marc’s office, again. He needed a makeover team in here, stat. The garbage wasn’t anywhere near his desk, the scrunched-up balls of paper on the floor proof of that. Coffee rings on the wood spoke of a lack of cleaning, and a file folder . . . her eyes paused in their perusal. DNA report. She glanced over her shoulder and pulled it toward her. She flipped it open and scanned down the page, trying to make sense out of all the medical and legal mumbo-jumbo. She finally determined that the lipstick sample on the cup sent for DNA testing came back as a match to someone named Amy Miller, wanted in Florida on charges of ecoterrorism.

  What? She must have read that wrong. Addie’s nose scrunched up. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, and she reread the page. “Why on earth would Teresa be having a drink with an ecoterrorist from Florida?”

  “I asked myself the same question.” Marc slammed the door behind him.

  Addie jumped and scooted the file folder away from her. “I was . . . was just—”