Murder in the First Edition

by Lauren Elliott

  Marc rolled his eyes. “Don’t get too big for your britches.”

  “Why? What interest do you have in my britches?” She enjoyed the second blush she’d ever seen on him creep up his neck.

  Her phone chirped at her with a text from Paige. Is Marc still here?

  Addie sent back a quick, Yes, but you can go if you’re done up there.

  She glanced at the time. “It’s almost five. Where did the time go?”

  He picked his cap up from the desk. “Yeah, I guess working with you like this brought back good memories, and I didn’t want to leave.”

  Paige’s head popped around the doorframe. “Marc, Catherine’s here. She’s pretty upset and asking for you?”

  Marc headed for the front. Addie was close on his heels, where a distraught Catherine greeted them. “He hasn’t come back yet, and no word. I’m getting worried, Marc,” Catherine sobbed.

  Addie plucked a tissue from the box on the counter and handed it to her. “I’m sure he’s fine.” She squeezed her hand. “He does this sometimes. He says it’s part of his work.”

  “I know. He told me that when he gets a call from his insurance company he can often disappear for a few hours doing research and what-not for them, but it’s been over ten hours, and I’m worried now that something has happened.”

  Addie looked helplessly at Marc. Nothing from him, so she wiped a tear from Catherine’s cheek. “Did he take anything with him this morning?”

  “What do you mean by anything?”

  “Suitcase, his toothbrush, anything?”

  She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the tissue.

  “That’s good news, then.” Addie took the damp tissue from her hand and gave her a fresh one. “That means he’s planning on coming back. Maybe he just got waylaid somewhere, and the time’s gotten away from him.” As Addie held her weeping friend, she cursed Jonathan’s very name. That man and his destructive wake. Like a tsunami, he’d come crashing into Catherine’s life and left nothing but debris of love and affection. If she ever saw him again . . .

  Marc’s calm voice cut into her reverie. “I can’t file a missing person report until he’s been gone for at least forty-eight hours.”

  “I know, I was just hoping that someone had seen him.” Catherine squirmed out of Addie’s hold and clutched her purse in front of her. “I’ve called everyone that I know in town that he’s met. Joyce and Jack are out searching ditches and snowbanks, but there’s no sign of him anywhere.” Fresh tears seeped from her swollen eyes.

  “Did you call the hospital?” Addie handed her another tissue.

  “Five times already. I even spoke with Simon and then tried Crystal, thinking the more eyes on the lookout for him the better.”

  “What do you mean tried Crystal?”

  “I never got a hold of her.” Catherine shrugged. “The switchboard said she hadn’t been in to work today.” She blew her nose.

  “It sounds like you have lots of eyes looking for him. Someone will know where he is, and it’ll all be fine.” So, both Jonathan and Crystal were still MIA. She patted her friend’s shoulder and glanced at Marc, her eyes flashing I told you so.

  Chapter 30

  Addie darted back and forth between the bedroom and the bathroom, washing, applying her makeup, and digging through her neglected laundry basket in a desperate attempt to find something clean enough to wear one more day. She pulled out a pair of black skinny slacks, checked for stains, and threw them on, then grabbed a fresh-enough-smelling gray tunic sweater and yanked it over her head. Twisting her hair in a ponytail, she dashed down the stairs when she heard the knock at the door. “Come on in. Just give me a second.” She sat on the hall bench and tugged on her boots.

  “You really should get a pair of these.” Serena stomped snow off her, as Addie called them, huggy things. “They have better traction and must definitely be warmer than those.” She pointed to Addie’s heeled knee-high boots. Serena peered around the corner into the living room and laughed. “Is that what you’re calling a Christmas tree this year? What did you do? Steal it from Charlie Brown?”

  “How dare you insult my poor baby. If I hadn’t rescued it from the tree lot, who knows what kind of future it would have had.”

  “After the gorgeous tree you had last year.” Serena shook her head. “You must admit it does look a little pathetic with its sparse branches and the what, six ornaments you threw on it?”

  “A dozen, and at least you can’t call me Scrooge anymore.”

  Zach snickered. “I can’t believe you repeated that to her? I thought you were friends?”

  Addie’s hands flew to her hips. “You guys have been calling me Scrooge behind my back?”

  “Come on, Ebenezer.” Serena tugged at Addie’s coat sleeve. “Let’s go see this apartment. We still have to get to work this morning.”

  They trudged through the fresh snow and made their way up the side steps to the suite above the triple garage. Addie opened the door and let Serena and Zach enter first. “What do you think?”

  Zach whistled. “Wow, you have a lot of stuff in here.”

  “I warned Serena that it had only been used as storage for years, and she promised that in exchange for free rent, you’d be more than willing to clear it out and do any repairs.”

  Zach’s brows rose as he looked down at Serena. “She did, did she?” He kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for volunteering me.”

  “Come on, Zach, it’s exactly what we’ve been hoping to find.” Serena made her way around a stack of boxes and between piled-high furniture. “It’s perfect. Look at that sweet little kitchen, and the size of this room, minus the junk, of course, and it’s surprisingly warm in here.”

  “The garage’s heated so it’s piped in up here, too. Good thing or some of this stuff would have been ruined by humidity and temperature changes.”

  “Like these books.” Serena peered into an open box.

  “Not more books to sort?” Addie moaned.

  Serena laughed and headed for the first bedroom off the living room, popped her head out. “Zach, you have to see the size of this one. It’s huge, and I call it. It’ll be perfect for me.”

  Addie peeked inside some of the boxes, cursing how much there was to sort, and she still had half the attic left to get through. She tugged the top off of an old wooden crate and picked up the top book. “I can’t believe it.” She searched through the other books in the box. “Serena, come here,” she called. “There must be at least nineteen Charles Dickens books in here.” She flopped down on the sofa and pulled one after another from the crate, scanning the title pages.

  “My God, The Pickwick Papers, 1837, the original three-volume set of Oliver Twist, 1838, David Copperfield, 1850, A Tale of Two Cities, 1859, and they’re all first editions.” She clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle a squeal.

  “Did you call me? I was just measuring my bedroom to make sure my furniture would fit.” Serena grinned down at her and then froze. “What’s wrong?” She glanced around the room. “There’s not a rat in here, is there?” she squeaked, and danced in a circle on her tippy toes.

  Addie held out a copy of Nicholas Nickleby. “It’s an 1839 first edition.” Her hand waved over the box. “These all are. The Old Curiosity Shop, Bleak House, Great Expectations. This collection is worth a fortune.” The color drained from her face as she thumbed through the other titles.

  Serena studied the book she held in her hand. “Wow, and these are all yours, just like all the books in the attic?”

  Addie swallowed hard and nodded. “I had no idea this was out here. A Christmas Carol, which must have been in here at one time, was in the house. I wonder why these weren’t taken in, too.”

  “Maybe your aunt was trying to hide them or make sure no one sold them or stole them after she passed. After all, she was afraid somebody was stealing from her, right?”

  Addie nodded. “And keeping them out here makes sense. Imagine if they’d gotten their hands on these?
” She looked at the books stacked beside her.

  Serena scrunched up her nose. “But it’s funny that she kept A Christmas Carol hidden in the box of ornaments. That’s where you found it, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I do vaguely remember when I was little, there was one Christmas that my dad and I were visiting her. I saw it on her desk and asked her to read it to me. She said I was too young, and said she would when I got older.” A smile crept across Addie’s lips. “She must have tucked it away for that day, but it never came.” Her shoulders sagged. “After the feud she had with my grandmother, I wasn’t allowed to visit again, and then it was too late.” Addie absently stroked the red cloth cover of A Tale of Two Cities on her lap.

  Zach poked his head out of the second bedroom and looked at Serena. “Well, what do you think?”

  “I think it’s perfect. When can you have it ready for us to move in?” She gave him a sly wink.

  He responded with a playful scowl. “I guess I get stuck with the smaller bedroom, then?” He feigned a pout.

  “I told you before.” Serena tapped her finger. “No ring, no . . .” she giggled.

  “It’s also a three-car garage. I have a space, but you two will have to fight over one, do you think you can share that?” She winked at Serena. “When you move in, you can just move all this into the third space.” She dusted her hands on her pants. “What do you think?”

  “Great,” Zach beamed, “I didn’t even consider that garage parking would be part of the deal.”

  Addie checked the time on her phone. “Whoa, we’d better get moving.” She looked at Zach. “Any chance I could get you to carry this box into the house for me?”

  “No problem.”

  “Okay, let’s go.” She locked the door behind them and handed Serena the key. “Welcome to your new home.”

  “You’re the best.” Serena locked her in a bear hug. “Thank you so much.”

  “Just don’t make me regret this,” Addie laughed.

  She opened the front door, letting Zach with his heavy load pass by her. He dropped it on the bench and stretched out his back. “Thanks, I’ll take them from there and decide what to do with them after the holidays.” She paused at the sight of Marc’s patrol car pulling up.

  Serena peered around her arm. “What’s he doing here?”

  Addie shrugged. “Knowing how he looks out for his baby sister, probably coming to make sure I’m not going to gouge you on the rent.”

  Marc kicked the snow to the sides as he plodded up the steps. “Better get those shoveled soon before you have a lawsuit on your hands.”

  “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind, officer.” She leaned her hip against the doorframe. “What brings you by? Am I under arrest or suspicion this time?”

  “Just looking out for these two here.” Marc peered inside, nodded at Serena and Zach. “One can’t be too careful with all the shifty landlords around these days.” The twinkle in his eye had Addie biting back her retort. “But in reality”—the corner of his mouth twitched—“I was hoping to talk privately for a few minutes.”

  Her heart vibrated in her chest. Business or pleasure? She didn’t know anymore after the way things had been between them, but right now it didn’t matter. She missed him more than she cared to admit, and she’d be willing to take a scolding from him.

  Serena grabbed Zach’s sleeve. “Well, we have to go. See you later.” She glanced at Addie, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  Addie wanted to hate Marc’s velvety-brown eyes and that stupid twitch thingy his lips did, but she couldn’t. She had caused the rift between them, not him. She pulled her gaze from his and checked the time on her phone. “I’d better let Paige know I’m going to be running later than I thought.” Her phone slipped from her fidgeting fingers and spiraled toward the floor.

  In one sweeping motion, Marc nipped it out of midair and placed it back in her hand. “I was just in the shop looking for you. It’s not busy yet, and she seems fine. A few more minutes won’t hurt.” His eyes searched her face.

  She looked at his hand, then her phone, and then back at his hands. “How did you do—?”

  “Kensuke Miyagi, my Sensei.” He bowed from the waist.

  “What?”

  “When I was a kid, I practiced all the moves he taught Daniel LaRusso, you know, like catching the fly, and wax on, wax off?” For the third time, a blush blossomed up his neck. “The Karate Kid? Didn’t you ever see that movie?”

  Addie clasped a hand over her mouth and stifled a laugh. “Sorry to say, I haven’t.”

  “You’re missing out. It’s a classic.”

  “So, there is meaning to the gibberish you just spouted, and it’s an actual thing?”

  “Yes, I haven’t gone over the deep end yet, although this case is shoving me closer to the edge.”

  “Sounds like you need some coffee?”

  “And a miracle. Got any of those lying around?” He followed her into the kitchen. “I know this isn’t by the book but—”

  “Whose book, or is this part of the movie again?” She dropped a pod into the machine as Marc slid onto a counter stool.

  “My book. The police book.”

  “Good, now maybe I can keep up.” Her eyes locked with his, a smile flittering over her lips, as she handed him a coffee and then made one for herself. “Explain this book. Is it an actual book or something that just goes by Chief Marc Chandler’s rules?”

  His hand scoured through his hair. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

  She emphatically shook her head.

  “I was just trying to be considerate and thought I would share a bit of information with you. But if you’re not interested?” He shrugged his shoulders and began to dismount the stool.

  “Of course, I am.” She pressed him back down. “You said you needed a miracle, and here I am.” She grinned. “Or are you going to tell me this was all a setup to get a free coffee?”

  “You are good, aren’t you?” He saluted her with his coffee cup. “How did you figure out my devious ploy?”

  “I can read you like a book, your book.” She plopped down onto the stool beside him.

  “You think so, do you?” His fingertip stroked the back of her hand from her knuckles to wrist, as his gaze melted with hers. She sucked in a little breath when he laced his fingers through hers. “Okay.” He released her hand. “In all seriousness, since you are so invested in this case, and . . . knowing you and your penchant for amateur sleuthing the way I do. I have decided it best to share this with you, otherwise you’ll just go out and try to dig it up on your own despite my warnings and those of others, and I don’t want you to get mixed up with these particular people in your search for answers.”

  “How cavalier of you.”

  “Nothing cavalier about it.” His eyes held steady on hers. “You have no idea what the people I am going to tell you about are capable of.” He cleared his throat. “Broken rule number one. I heard from my friend at the FBI, and since Nicky Santoro, the guy they linked to Marvin’s accident, is known to work for an organized crime family, his arrest fell under FBI jurisdiction.”

  “So, the mob is involved.”

  Marc nodded. “And . . . since he left his fingerprints at the scene, they now have him dead to rights on Marvin’s murder, and he knows it.”

  “I don’t get it. How could a mob enforcer be so stupid to leave his prints behind?”

  “No one ever said Nicky was the sharpest tool in the shed. Apparently, when they asked him, he said his gloves were too bulky, so he took them off.”

  “Did he say why he killed Marvin?”

  “It sounds like it was about the book, and Nicky apparently killed him because he didn’t have it and didn’t know who did. He said Marvin owed the syndicate a lot of money from a couple of previous failed transactions and promised that he’d pay it back as soon as he scored this book.”

  “Then his bosses don’t have it, either?”

  “Nope
, and apparently he’s singing like a songbird. Names, dates, everything. His arrest on this charge is a jackpot for the FBI because they finally have enough evidence to move on a mob boss they’ve been after for years.”

  “This all must have started when Teresa advertised the book online and posted that it also had the certificate, which naturally makes it more valuable. Or was Marvin’s intent not to bid on it at all but to steal it himself?”

  “My friend just said that when Nicky arrived in town he gave Marvin a warning from the syndicate, and that Marvin explained what had been going on with the book and the delay in getting the money. So maybe you’re right, and initially he did plan on stealing it because it sounds like he’d been given a deadline to pay up, but then someone beat him to it.”

  “Then what happened? Marvin approached Patrick about the book, and what?”

  “According to Santoro, when Marvin found out the book and the certificate were gone, he went after Patrick to find out who had it. Patrick wouldn’t talk so he beat him up, hoping to loosen his tongue, and when that didn’t work, he went to the hospital for another try, threatening him with a syringe of morphine. When Patrick still wouldn’t tell him where the book was, I guess he gave him the injection anyway. Nicky was tailing Marvin and figured out that he was planning on making a run for it, so his boss gave the word to take him out.”

  Addie tapped her fingernail on the counter. “So, we know the book was stolen and not misplaced, and even to save his own life Patrick still wouldn’t talk. That means Patrick was protecting someone . . . someone he cared about and was afraid to tell Marvin because he knew he’d go after that person. Or Patrick was more afraid of the person who had it than he was of Marvin.” Her finger scratched at a spot on the counter. “Jonathan.”

  “Nicky was pretty plugged into the family, and he never mentioned anything about a Jonathan Hemingway, so I doubt he’s involved.”

  “But we know for a fact that he was at the Grey Gull Inn when Marvin was staying there. That must mean he has something to do with all this.”

  “I’d say that was just a coincidence. He had been looking for a room in town, so he didn’t impose on Catherine when her guests arrived.” Marc shrugged. “Other than that, your theories are good, but we still don’t know how Patrick was or if he’s involved. We need proof. But I must say, if you’re right and we can prove it, the whole case could be solved.” His hand slapped the counter. “I’d love to solve this and shove it in my FBI buddy’s face,” he laughed.