by Lyn Key
“Only when it comes to reading my weekly pay stub,” Cammie replied. “When I pick up a book and turn the pages, I feel like I’m back in high school, which I hated. But I make it a habit to buy children’s picture books to give my little nieces and nephews.”
“We stock plenty of children’s picture books and look forward to seeing you soon,” Peggy Sue said.
“You bet. Despite how it may appear, I’m not always lounging around the place in my housecoat and mules,” Cammie said. “I want to get out more, do fun stuff, and meet new people, especially since I have no boyfriend.”
“Dan McCabe is easy on the eyes and a bachelor to boot,” Peggy Sue said. “Is he seeing anybody?”
“Thanks, but I got the dirty lowdown on Dan,” Cammie said.
“Oh?” Peggy Sue asked.
“Dan has a quick, nasty temper,” Cammie replied. “Plus which, he’s just a con man in bib overalls, and I’ve never liked him.”
“Did Hugo and Dan get along?” Hope asked.
“They couldn’t stand the sight of each other,” Cammie replied.
“That jives with the account Mr. Bushrod gave us,” Hope said. “He said Hugo and Dan got into a big squabble at the post office.”
Cammie shrugged. “Isn’t Dan always getting into a spat with somebody?”
“Did you ever know them to argue or fight?” Hope asked.
“I know Hugo went to great lengths to never cross paths with Dan,” Cammie replied. “Their antagonism went back to something bad that happened in their boyhoods.”
“Did you and Hugo first meet in high school?” Hope asked. “Had you discussed any plans to get married or start a family?”
“Nope, I’m not getting into that with you,” Cammie replied with a headshake. “I’m finished with talking about Hugo and me. There’s nothing left to say as far as I’m concerned. We both went our separate paths, and I can’t help it if he died the hard way he did. I sent Mrs. Spangler a sympathy card expressing my condolences, but I won’t be attending his funeral. She must understand how I feel about it.”
“Sergeant Trogg might return with more of his prying questions,” Hope said.
“I gave him everything he could possibly want, so I doubt if I’ll see him again,” Cammie said.
You can bet your bottom dollar you’ll be seeing our faces again. Fill her in, Hope.
“Just shush up,” Hope said. “I’m not going to tell her that.”
“You’re not going to tell me what?” Cammie asked.
“Disregard it,” Peggy Sue said. “Hope was thinking aloud again.”
Cammie gave Hope a quizzical look. “You might want to get that checked out at the doctor’s office,” Cammie said. “Talking to yourself might be one of the early warning signs of a more serious medical problem.”
“Then I’ll be sure to keep a close eye on it,” Hope said.
Don’t forget to ask Cammie about the Baltimore Orioles baseball cap.
“By the way, did Hugo like playing or watching baseball?” Hope asked.
Cammie shook her head. “Strange as it may sound, Hugo didn’t like or follow any type of sports,” she replied. “Why do you ask me?”
“I just wondered since a lot of the guys do,” Hope replied.
“We should be shoving off,” Peggy Sue said. “Thanks for taking out the time for us.”
“That’s perfectly okay, and I enjoyed our chat,” Cammie said. “But the next time, could you phone ahead and let me straighten up myself and clean the place for receiving company?”
Chapter 8
“One of our customers phoned me,” Peggy Sue said. “She’s pulling out her hair to find something good in paperback to read. She and her family are leaving for the beach tomorrow for a week, and she wants to stock up. Do we have any Danielle Steels left on the shelves?”
Are you kittying me? We have Danielle Steels coming out the wazoo.
“Just tell her we have the Danielle Steels,” Hope replied. “She’s one of our most in-demand authors, so we might sell out if our customer doesn’t hurry over.”
“I’ll ring her right back with the update,” Peggy Sue said.
“Give her your most dynamic sales pitch,” Hope said.
Don’t forget to remind her to bring a tote bag to fill up so she doesn’t run into this dilemma again. No, change that to bring TWO tote bags.
“You’re turning into a real book hustler,” Hope said with a proud smile.
They’d returned to the Brontë Bookshop after leaving Cammie Jenkins’ house. Being so close to the cemetery hadn’t agitated Peggy Sue, and Hope saw how Nozy Cat wasn’t taking his daytime naps. The excitement of the mystery enthralled them so much they didn’t want to miss anything.
Is there any joe left in the coffeemaker?
“I’ll go ahead and brew us a new pot,” Peggy Sue replied. “Just give me a few minutes to close out the Danielle Steels sale.”
Show me how you brew the strong stuff in case I need to make a pot to give me a kickstart during the day.
“Not so fast there,” Hope said. “Since when have you become a coffee drinking feline?”
I haven’t tried my first mug, but I see you guzzling it all day, so I want to give it a whirl.
“The idea of you hopped up on caffeine while you’re awake scares the daylights out of me,” Hope said. “You’re already a gabby enough cat as it is.”
I know that has to be an exaggeration.
“Let’s stick to your bowl of milk,” Peggy Sue said. “Coffee is more of a people beverage.”
You’re turning into a couple of sticks in the mud.
“Keep it up and you won’t be our security feline any longer,” Hope said with a smile. “I’ll go to the animal shelter and adopt a watch dog.”
Nozy Cat did the feline rendition of a gasp. You wouldn’t dare make such a controversial move.
“Be careful and don’t dare Hope to do something,” Peggy Sue said. “She never backs down like the afternoon I double-dog dared her, and she climbed up the Sweet Springs water tower. She refused to come down until her irate mother arrived on the scene.”
Did Hope moon the rubbernecks from up there? Nozy Cat chuckled as much as cats are able to chuckle in their lighthearted moments.
Peggy Sue chuckled along with him.
“Hey all, I know a bookshop like ours doesn’t run itself,” Hope said. “Less talk and more work is what it takes to make it profitable.”
Then I’ll be off to do my security rounds.
Hope lugged out the vacuum cleaner from the utility closet and went to the rear of the bookshop to work since she’d seen no customers browsed on the aisles. The proprietors of other used bookshops had advised her the dust and dirt contributed to the quaint charm. The customers expected to get a little grungy while they crawled through the stacks filled with sticky cobwebs in quest of their must-have books.
She didn’t buy the grungy theory and regarded it as an excuse the lazy proprietors used not to tidy up their bookshops. Though she said she wasn’t a neatnik, if she let the dusting and vacuuming go for longer than a week, she got crabby. Her house might look a train wreck, but her bookshop always stayed shipshape.
She decided to tackle cleaning the poetry section where Hugo had lain dead. The poetry volumes weren’t exactly bestsellers. Regardless, she put them out because she enjoyed reading the poets. Hope donated the volumes by popular dead American poets like Robert Frost, Maya Angelou, and Emily Dickinson to the schoolchildren for their classes. Hope shoved the vacuum cleaner plug into the electrical receptacle.
Boo!
Hope recoiled in fright, almost flinching out of her skin.
Ha. Did I scare you?
“Nozy Cat! What a spiteful thing to do,” she said. “You almost gave me cardiac arrest, and I’m sure cats don’t know how to perform CPR.”
Aw, was it so bad? I mean, come on. No harm no foul.
“I’ll live but I don’t liked to be scared like that,” Hope said. �
��I thought you were busy making your security rounds to keep us safe and sound. Don’t tell me you found another dead body this time in the horror section under the Edgar Allan Poe books.”
No, but you’re standing on the same spot where I found Hugo.
Hope shrugged. “It’s still a piece of the bookshop and nothing more to me.”
Have Sergeant Trogg and his minions finished processing the crime scene?
“He brought his forensics technicians back here, but I don’t know what they did. He ordered me to stay out of their way by remaining up front by the counter. I peeked around the corner, but he shooed me away. However, I saw them take out Hugo feet first through the rear exit into the alley. I’m struck with the thought his killer may’ve brought him into bookshop through the rear exit.”
The police haven’t shared any of their findings with us.
“We know Sergeant Trogg has been diligently running his murder investigation. Everybody we’ve spoken to says he stays one step ahead of us.”
Mark my words, he’s going to pull the rug out from under you and Peggy Sue when he’s ready. I’ll repeat my warning to keep your hawk eyes on him.
“It’s something always on my mind,” Hope said. “The front sidewalk needs sweeping after I finish vacuuming. Who last used the broom? I didn’t see it while I was in the utility closet.”
Why are you asking me? I head up security, not maintenance.
“You’re looking awfully guilty. What’s the story with the brooms?”
I dragged them off and hid them. It’s for your own good. They’re a temptation and distraction.
Hope cocked her head at him. “Why did you go and do that?” she asked. “How am I supposed sweep the dirt off the front walkway?”
That’s not my department, but I know a little dirt never hurt anybody. The Salem Village witch genes lurk in your DNA, and I fear you might try to fly off on a broomstick since a full moon will be shining tonight.
Hope’s lower jaw sagged as she stared down at Nozy Cat. He sat there with his marble blue eyes trained on her.
“Now I’ve heard of everything. You listen here, and you listen closely.” Hope was shaking her finger at him. “I don’t give a hoo-ha what genes lurk in my DNA, or anywhere else in me for that matter, but I want my brooms returned to where you found them kept in the utility closet. When I get the compulsion to sweep, I have to do it right then because that’s how we sweepers are made.”
I didn’t know you were going to fling a hissy fit with a bobtail on it. I do something nice for you, and I get this for gratitude. I should be the one who feels insulted and hurt. Just the same, I’ll take care of doing what you asked me.
“Thank you.”
“Excuse me,” a different lady’s softer voice said. “I overheard you talking on this aisle, so I wandered over to see who it was.”
Hope at a half-turn saw a short, slim lady perhaps twenty years younger than her. The blonde lady carried a stylish white handbag and had a thing for purple: dress, belt, and floppy hat. Despite her colorful attire rendering her a striking figure, Hope had never seen the smiling lady before.
“I couldn’t understand what you said, and I wasn’t eavesdropping on you,” the lady said.
Hope glanced down at Nozy Cat, and his marble blue eyes met her gaze.
He sighed. I suppose I have to bail you out of this fine mess. That’s all I seem to be good for now. Just tell her you were singing a folksong you learned in middle school.
“You caught me singing a folksong I remembered learning in middle school,” Hope said. “I only sing for an audience of one since I can’t carry a tune in a picnic basket.”
The lady had an easy laugh. “That goes for us both. The choir director booted me out of the school’s glee club because all I could hit were the sour notes. Is the handsome cat yours?”
I like this lady who obviously has impeccable taste.
“Nozy Cat is the bookshop mascot,” Hope replied.
“Nozy Cat, eh?” the short lady said.
That’s my name so please don’t wear it out.
“I’m Hope Jones.”
“Sarah Caldwell. Do you own this delightful, homey bookshop?”
“I along with my best friend Peggy Sue Roswell have been in business for about a year now,” Hope replied. “My daughter Stace and Peggy Sue’s hubby Travis sometimes assist us.”
“That’s mighty brave of you to undertake in this turbulent economy,” Sarah said. “Are you making a successful go of it if I may be so forward as to ask?”
“It’s admittedly been more a labor of love than a profitable venture,” Hope replied. “So far, that is.”
“I hope it grows profitable before the love runs out, and you find you can’t keep the bookshop going any longer,” Sarah said.
Then why don’t you buy and fill up a tote bag with books? Ask her, Hope.
“Is there something I can help you with, Sarah?”
“I was driving by and caught sight of your snazzy sign on the bypass,” Sarah replied. “I decided to stop and check out your books.”
“The creative Peggy Sue made our snazzy sign,” Hope said. “We don’t get a lot of motorists who bother to take the detour down the old highway and come through Main Street.”
“I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere special,” Sarah said. “I love taking my side trips into the small towns along the highways and soaking up the local color.”
“Isn’t that quaint and interesting?” Hope said. “Sweet Springs pulsates with atmosphere, and its unique characters are not found in your average small town. I take it today is your first visit made here.”
“You’re the first person I’ve seen or spoken to since I crossed the town limits,” Sarah replied.
“What’s your reading pleasure?” Hope asked, her hand gesture sweeping around them at the aisles of bookshelves. “We’re a general bookshop offering all the popular fiction genres. We’re also the only bookshop open between here and Charlottesville. Moreover, nobody beats our quality books or rock-bottom prices.”
“I’ll comb through your Romance selections before I leave town,” Sarah said. “I like to keep a couple of paperbacks on my nightstand. I read for a few minutes before I turn off the light and fall asleep.”
“You and I share the same bedtime reading habit,” Hope said. “You can find our most popular romances three aisles over. You can’t miss the label display on the bookcase.”
“Didn’t you have a big excitement occur here?” Sarah asked.
“You must refer to the man I found murdered just about where you’re standing now,” Hope replied with a puzzled look.
Gaping down, Sarah stared in horror at the cursed spot. “Was the man Hugo Spangler?” she asked.
“How might you know about Hugo’s murder if you just stopped in Sweet Springs for the first time?” Hope asked.
“I printed out and read about his murder from your online local newspaper,” Sarah replied.
“I’m a little confused. Why does his murder interest you?” Hope asked.
“Maybe I’d better come clean and level with you,” Sarah said.
“Honesty is a good way to base any meaningful conversation,” Hope said.
“Hugo and I first met online in a chat room a short while back.” Sarah laughed softly. “Welcome to dating in the digital age. Anyway, we Skyped for hours on end, and we really hit it off. So, we made plans to spend a romantic weekend in Baltimore, and we had the time of our lives. It wasn’t a one-time fling, and Hugo promised he’d get back to me. Only he never did, and my calls to him all went unanswered.”
“Was he still dating Cammie Jenkins while you and he enjoyed your Baltimore weekend getaway?” Hope asked.
“He told me about her after we got there,” Sarah replied. “He also claimed their relationship was headed nowhere fast because she was so clingy and bossy. He was set to break up with her, and we’d be together.”
“You got here too late then,” Hope said. “He d
id end it with Cammie about a week ago.”
“That makes no sense whatsoever,” Sarah said, her eyes flaring in anger. “I never got his phone call or heard anything of the sort. Why didn’t he let me know?”
“Maybe he just hadn’t gotten around to calling you before he was murdered,” Hope replied. “He probably had a lot on his mind.”
“It’s terrible what happened to him,” Sarah said, now teary-eyed. “I miss him.”
“We all do in our small way,” Hope said. “The small towns are close-knit communities, and Hugo was a native.”
Don’t forget to ask her about the Baltimore Orioles baseball cap, Hope.
Hope looked down at Nozy Cat and barely nodded.
“What activities kept you amused while you stayed in Baltimore?” Hope asked. “Did you attend any of the Orioles games, for instance?”
Sarah smiled with a nod. “Like my dad, I’m an avid baseball fan, so I got Hugo to go with me to cheer on the Orioles beating the Tigers at Camden Yards. Otherwise, we stayed fairly close to the Inner Harbor. I adore the iconic white marble front steps on the rowhouses and government buildings.”
“Are you staying in Sweet Springs?” Hope asked.
“I’d probably feel better about Hugo if I did stay for a couple of days,” Sarah replied. “Is there a clean, well-lit motel nearby or a bed and breakfast to put me up for the night?”
“Sweet Springs has never had a bed and breakfast,” Hope replied. “Try at the Bootleggers’ Lair Motel. Just tell Harvey Baker at the front desk Hope Jones sent you. He’s Peggy Sue’s first cousin and a real character.”
“I usually have a good experience when I stay at the motels,” Sarah said. “Are there any good cheap eats in town?”
“The Yellow Ribbon Café always treats us right,” Hope replied. “Their homemade peach cobbler served with vanilla ice cream and a cup of coffee are to die for.”
“I’ll stop by again to pick out and buy my romances,” Sarah said. “Bye for now.”
She walked out of the bookshop after stopping to speak briefly to Peggy Sue using a hand calculator and pencil behind the front counter.