Murder in the First Edition

by Lauren Elliott

  “Yeah”—his eyes bored into hers—“I can see what you were just doing. What are you doing in here in the first place?”

  “Waiting for you,” she squeaked. “I didn’t mean to be nosy, but—”

  “But you’re very good at it, aren’t you?” He reached around her, snatched the folder, and snapped it shut with a growl.

  She wagged a finger in the air. “Just one question.”

  “What is it?”

  She slumped down in her chair. “Why isn’t there a photo of this Amy Miller in the report?”

  A deep sigh escaped his chest. “Because the DNA lab doesn’t have access to those records, and they only show a match if someone is already in the system either from criminal charges being levied or because of employment reasons like with some government agencies.”

  “So that means what?”

  “Their information is designed to show if a match exists, not to judge what the match relates to. They send the info about the match, and then it’s up to the receiving authority to decide if an investigation is warranted.”

  “And?”

  He shuffled a stack of papers. “We will be proceeding with an investigation with the assistance of the FBI because this woman is wanted on Federal and Florida State charges.”

  “So, why do you think this Amy was here to see Teresa?”

  He shrugged. “An old friend maybe?”

  “But Jonathan was an old friend, too, and Teresa blew him off for a meeting with this Amy person.”

  “Who knows, then? All I can do, just like you are”—his eyes narrowed at her—“is guess.”

  “But—”

  “Now tell me what made you sneak into my office.” He leaned forward, his shoulder muscles bunching under this uniform.

  She shifted in her seat and tried to remember what was so important that she had to talk to him. “I didn’t sneak. There was no one at the front counter, and so I just came in.” She raised her chin.

  “I’m waiting.” He tapped his pen on the desk.

  “I remember now. Jonathan.”

  “What about him?”

  “He was in Australia last Christmas.”

  “How nice for him.” A soft laugh escaped his throat.

  She rose to her feet and leaned across the desk. “Don’t you see? Tetrodotoxin is found in puffer fish and blue-ringed octopus that live in the Australian reefs.”

  “And, if I remember, also Japan and the Indian oceans. His being in Australia last year isn’t a connection to or proof of anything.”

  “I think it is. There’s too many coincidences around Jonathan being here for my liking.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like him knowing that snake Marvin for one. And everything else. Him dropping into town, Teresa being murdered—”

  “Ah, ah, ah.”

  “What do you mean, ah, ah, ah. If it wasn’t murder, what is it?”

  “Her death is just suspicious at this point.”

  “But you have proof otherwise now.”

  “Not enough for the DA. He needs absolute proof it was intentionally put in her food and wasn’t an accidental ingestion due to contaminated fish.”

  “Okay, whatever, but now we know Jonathan was in a place he could get his hands on whatever it was.”

  “Blue-ringed octopus venom.”

  “It’s that for sure?”

  He nodded. “Simon explained what the report said in easy-to-understand layman terms. So, yes, and that’s why it took so long. The lab was narrowing down the actual source, just as I thought.”

  “Okay, but can’t you see how this all points to Jonathan and the fact he has such a sketchy past?”

  Marc shook his head. “I think you’re on the wrong path here, and if you continue, you’re only going to get hurt”—his fingers interlocked—“and in the best-case scenario, you will end up damaging your relationship with Jonathan.”

  “I don’t have a relationship with Jonathan.”

  “I think you do and a far deeper one than you realize.” Her eyes widened. “Is that all for today?” Marc stood up and adjusted his police utility belt.

  “I guess.” She pushed herself to her feet. “But explain to me why you are so bent on the fact that Jonathan isn’t behind it?”

  “Because I think you are too focused on finding something wrong with him and trying to ignore what your real issue is with him.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The fact that every time you look at him you see the ghost of David.”

  She swallowed hard to release the lump in the back of her throat. “Who . . . who told you that?”

  His brown eyes softened. “Serena.”

  “Of course, she did.” Addie crossed her arms, hoping to hide her trembling.

  “It’s not her fault. She knows how torn up you’ve been since he arrived.”

  “Have not.” She shook her head.

  “Yes, you are. Even Simon referred to you today as Miss Greyborne and not Addie.” His brow rose in question. “I’m guessing that things aren’t going well—”

  She spun on her heel and all but ran to the door.

  “One more thing.”

  She stopped but didn’t look back at him.

  “You can take Marvin Gibson off your crime board.”

  “Why?” She swung around.

  “That highway accident the other night? He was the driver who was killed when his brakes failed. Plowed into the back of a semi.”

  Her eyes widened. “Faulty brakes or cut?”

  Marc shrugged. “Not sure yet. His rental car’s in the shop now. The crime team’s going over it.” He shuffled the file folder between his hands. “By the way, I like your hair down like that.” His eyes smiled at her before she clicked the door closed.

  Forgetting how to breathe, she stumbled past the reception desk, not sure if anything made any sense.

  Chapter 25

  “Hello, Miss Greyborne.”

  Addie whirled around. Jerry stared at her from behind the desk, a look of concern on his face. “Hi, Jerry, how are you?”

  “Doing well. I had no idea you were in there. I thought the chief was talking on the phone.”

  “Nope, just me. When I came in, there was no one at the desk.”

  “We were planning the office Christmas party, sorry about that.”

  “No problem. I got what I came for, so I’ll be off now.” Her gaze settled on a thick five-inch binder on a shelf behind Jerry. The words “Most Wanted” glared back at her. “What’s that?” She pointed.

  Jerry looked over his shoulder. “What?”

  “That Most Wanted binder.”

  “It’s a weekly updated list of all the new bad guys to be on the lookout for.”

  “Is the public allowed to look at it?”

  “Sure, the more eyes on some of those posters the better. You never know when one of them might stop in town.” He grabbed it off the shelf and dropped it down on the countertop. “You looking for someone in particular?”

  “No, I’m just curious. I’ve never seen one of these before.”

  “We even post the ones who were last seen in Massachusetts on the wall over there.” He pointed to a corkboard.

  She glanced at it and then started to thumb through the book. “Is there a system to this, like sections for the crimes they committed or the states that have a warrant out for them?”

  “No, we just do alphabetical listings.”

  “That’s easy.” Addie flipped to the ms, hoping to get a glimpse of a photo of this Amy Miller, scanned through the pages, and closed the binder. “Are all the Most Wanted in the country in here?”

  “No, that’s just the Most Wanted on the east coast, but not if there’s a Federal warrant out on them.”

  “Is there a separate book for those ones?”

  “We don’t keep those in an actual binder, but they’re listed on the FBI database.”

  “I see. Thanks for your help. Catch you later.”


  “Take care out there, Miss Greyborne. The temperatures plummeted, and the roads are starting to slick over now.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be careful.” She turned toward the door.

  “And watch out for a few downed power lines,” Jerry called behind her. “Some branches snapped off with the cold and snow buildup, and they’re blocking some of the roads.”

  She smiled her gratitude and braced herself against the blustery wind when the door flew open in her hand.

  * * *

  Addie tossed her coat on the end of the counter and briskly rubbed her hands up and down her arms in an attempt to ward off Mother Nature’s latest glacial assault and scanned the shop for Paige. She spotted her shelving books in the Romance section and headed toward her. “You seem to be attracted to this type of thing today.”

  Paige looked up at her. “What, books?”

  “No, romance. I saw what was going on between you and that dreamy blond guy who was in here.”

  Paige stood up. “Grant? He’s just an old friend.”

  “Okay, if you say so.”

  Paige’s cheeks flushed with a rosy glow. “Well, he did ask me to go to the gala with him.” A smile crept across her lips.

  “Good going.” Addie grinned and rubbed her still-icy hands together. “Did I miss anything?”

  “No.” Paige picked up another book from the book cart. “But Jonathan and Catherine came back to pick up her books. You should have seen their bright-red cheeks. They looked so happy. Catherine said she had the most fun she’s had in years.” Paige sighed. “Someday I want to fall in love just like they did.”

  “Love?” Addie choked.

  Paige nodded, grinning. A low growl escaped from the back of Addie’s throat as she headed back to the counter. “Love, my foot. What game are you playing now, Jonathan?” She stabbed at the cash key. The drawer flung open. She glanced down at the bill dividers and gasped. “Paige, can you come here for a minute, please?”

  Paige popped her head around a bookshelf. “Is there a problem?”

  Addie’s hands waved over the cash. “Did you bring all this in today?”

  “And the credit card receipts and the daily tally from online sales are under the tray.”

  “It looks like there might be a little something extra in your stocking this year.” Addie grinned.

  “We just had a good day.”

  “No, it’s more than that. I can’t thank you enough for the extra effort you have to put in when I’m out of the shop.” She pulled a stack of bills from the drawer.

  “Just doing what I love to do.”

  “Sales?”

  “No, talking.”

  Addie howled and continued counting the cash. The door chimes rang, heralding the appearance of a redhead with flushed freckled cheeks.

  Addie’s eyes narrowed to crinkled slits. “You are aware that your freckles pop out whenever you feel flustered or embarrassed or excited and maybe even”—Addie tapped her finger on her jaw—“guilty?” Addie felt only a slight stab of pity when her friend paled. “I know what you did.”

  “Yup, I heard.”

  Paige looked from one to the other and backed away. Addie glanced sideways at her. “Can you give us a minute, please?” Paige nodded, grabbed the book cart, and headed for the back room.

  Addie returned her focus to a twitchy Serena, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Do you tell Marc everything about me and what we talk about?”

  “No, of course not.” Serena slunk onto a stool. “But I told you he asks about you all the time, and today he said he had a meeting with Simon and things seemed . . . well, he asked if everything was still good with the two of you.”

  “So, you felt that was an opening to tell him what I said about looking at Jonathan and seeing David?”

  “Well, no”—she twisted her fingers together—“but yes, kind of.” She winced. “I didn’t give him any details. I just said you were struggling because he stirred up so many memories.”

  “Yeah, some days they hit me like a punch in the stomach and take my breath away, kind of like when Marc told me what you said to him.”

  “I know”—Serena reached across the counter and clasped her hand—“and I’m sorry, but can I give you a little bit of friendly advice, and only because I care about you?”

  “Something tells me that even if I say no, you will, anyway.”

  “You’re right, because I’m your friend. But you really do need to stop being such a Scrooge about everything right now. You don’t even have a Christmas tree at home or lights or anything yet.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m not a Scrooge.” Addie looked down. “And as far as the decorations at home, well . . . I’ve been busy is all.” She scuffed her foot over a scratch on a wooden floorboard.

  “Look, something horrible happened to David, and it hurt you, that I get. But since then Marc kisses you, and you call him David, which pushes him away. Jonathan comes to town and reminds you of David, and you look for ways to push him away, too. Then Simon is just about to do exactly what you thought you wanted him to do, and . . . your attention suddenly was on Marc instead of the man about to kiss you.” She squeezed Addie’s hand. “Can’t you see that you’re pushing people away from you who care about you? I think Scrooge did the same, didn’t he?”

  “I don’t do that. It’s just that my past was perfect, and then it wasn’t. Now my present sucks, and my future looks bleak.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “Argh! I am Scrooge.”

  “Then change it before it’s too late, like he did.”

  “But he had spirits to help him see his ways.”

  “As you do.”

  Addie scoffed. “I think you’re on a Christmas sugar cookie high.”

  “Just listen to me.” She tightened her hold on Addie’s hand. “This whole thing with Jonathan and how you feel like David is staring back at you.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Maybe he is, and he’s trying to tell you something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like maybe it’s time to change the present because you can’t do anything about the past, and the best way is to start by fixing things with his father. You can leave some of those memories where they belong, in the past, and you can start moving forward with your life, so it doesn’t turn out so bleak.”

  Addie snorted.

  “Jonathan seems like a good guy to me because Catherine appears to be head over heels, and she’s a pretty good judge of character. In fact, they popped into my shop after their frolic in the park, and I’ve never seen her or him grin like that before.”

  Addie crossed her arms. “Don’t forget his dallying with Crystal. He looked pretty happy then, too.”

  “Whatever it was that you think you saw happening with her, it didn’t bother Catherine, so don’t let it bother you.”

  “I just can’t get past the feeling that something is off with him. I’ve always felt that. Come on. Take a look at what I’m talking about.” She directed Serena to the back room.

  Paige looked up from pricing the books on the back desk. Addie motioned with her head to the door, and she nodded, grabbed a load of books, tossed them on the book trolley, and headed for the front of the store.

  Addie pulled the cover off the blackboard, a tic of smugness in her eyes as she held Serena’s gaze. “See what I mean? Now, you read that and then tell me there’s nothing to suspect Jonathan of?”

  “Umm, Addie, I . . .” Serena’s face drained of color.

  Addie spun around. Her breath caught in her throat. She forced down the acid rising up from the pit of her stomach as she read the message written across the otherwise blank blackboard. This is your last warning!!! She leaned against the desk, her knees giving way under her.

  Serena collapsed on a wooden book crate. “Who would have done this?”

  “Paige.” Addie’s voice rose to a shrill shriek. “Come here.”

  She appeared around the corner of the door. “W
hat’s wrong?”

  “Who . . . who?” She pointed to the blackboard.

  Wide-eyed, Paige read the words on the board, her face, too, draining of color.

  “When Jonathan and Catherine came in, did he come back here?” Addie questioned.

  “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. I was looking for a book Catherine wanted to add to her earlier purchase, and we were talking. He could have. I really wasn’t paying attention to him.”

  “Have you ever told him or anyone else about this board being back here?”

  Paige shook her head, blinking back tears.

  Serena shifted on the box. “Your store was busy today, and if Paige was busy out front, it could have been anyone that slipped back.”

  “Was anyone in the store today that you recognized from the names that were on here?”

  “I’ve only ever glanced at it when I happened to come back here and you were writing on it.” She fumbled with a book in her hand. “I’ve never taken a close look.”

  “I’m not accusing you of spying, but when you did take a look, did you happen to remember seeing anyone else’s name that was listed on it come into the store today?”

  “I didn’t know any of the people you had written down, so maybe. I don’t really know.”

  “My money’s on Jonathan.” Addie’s lips twitched as she reread the message.

  “Why are you so sure it was him?”

  “Because there were a lot of incriminating clues against him pointing to the fact that he’s not such a squeaky-clean, upstanding person as you might think.” She pinned Serena with a scowl. “That combined with something else he did recently is how I know this was his doing. This means”—her face screwed up in concentration—“he somehow found out about this board and now knows every clue we had written down regarding him and anyone else he might be working with. I don’t believe what’s happened was a one-person job.”

  Serena’s face was grim. “And if it wasn’t him, then someone else has that information now, too.”

  “I know it was him”—she drummed her fingers on the edge of the desk—“because he broke into my house the other night and was waiting for me when I got home.”

  Serena and Paige gasped.

  “He . . . he did what?” Serena leapt to her feet. “Why? What did he want?”