“I’d think so,” Walter said as he got up to refill everyone’s glasses with Pepsi. The only drink that befits great pizza is Pepsi, and I was glad to see my friends all agreed. “But then, I’ve never committed murder.”
The room got quiet for a while, and then Mart said, “Okay, who’s up for Apples to Apples?”
Everyone looked at her like she’d just sprouted a second head until she said, “The game. You don’t know it? I thought it might be fun to play since we’re all here anyway.”
“I’d be up for a round or two,” Cate said.
“It’s not like we’re going to solve this murder tonight, anyway,” I said as I grabbed wine glasses and two bottles of pinot noir. Pepsi for pizza, red wine for after.
“I’m pretty sure the sheriff would prefer you not try to solve anything, my dear,” Stephen said as he poured himself a large glass and resumed his seat on the floor. “But I also expect he knows, by now, that his preferences and your desires might not align.
I kicked him under the table and smiled. He was right.
The next day, the shop was busy from the minute we opened until we closed at seven. Michiko Kakutani had indeed mentioned the shop on Twitter and included a photo of the storefront, and that, coupled with what Cate told me were the usual beginnings of the tourist season, meant we had an amazing day of sales.
I was grateful . . . for the sales, but also for the distraction because, of course, tonight Daniel was coming over for movie night. If the shop had been slow, I would have probably gnawed my fingers to the first joint. As it was, I simply had a very short, very ragged manicure.
When we’d finally turned off the lights, set the alarm, and headed out, Rocky and I were dragging but invigorated. “That was a good day, Boss,” she said as we stopped outside the shop door.
“Boss? You don’t need to call me boss, Rocky.”
“I know I don’t need, too, but I like to. Think of it like ‘You da boss,’ as in ‘You’re a badass.’”
I laughed. “So not as in Who’s the Boss?”
Rocky’s blank stare reminded me firmly of our age difference.
I waved a hand. “Never mind. Eighties reference.”
She giggled. “I love that old-school stuff.”
“Sure,” I said as I tried not to roll my eyes. Old school. “Want to walk or drive over?”
“I’ll drive,” she said as I heard the beep of her car’s alarm. “It’ll save me the trouble later.”
I waved as Mayhem and I started down the street. Spring was definitely here. It was still chilly, but the air felt damper, more green somehow. Plus, the lingering moments of dusk promised longer days. I was typically an autumn enthusiast, but this spring might just sway me to her favor.
Mayhem sniffed her way along the sidewalk, noting the earlier visitors and any gifts passersby had left in the way of crumbs. I enjoyed the window displays, particularly in the co-op. Cate had stopped by to suggest I take a look on my way home since they were featuring some of Woody’s pieces. I’d mentioned wanting a small table to put behind my sofa, and she’d told me about a gorgeous one. It was indeed beautiful, but pricey – well-worth the price for such fine work, but I’d need a few more really good weekends to justify that kind of expense, even from a friend like Woody.
We were about to turn and head up our street when Mayhem stopped cold. Her hackles rose along her back, and the top of her head wrinkled. A low growl piled up in her throat.
I knelt down beside her. “You see something?” The growl got louder, and she turned to face behind me.
I spun around, but I didn’t see anything. Mayhem didn’t calm, though. In fact, she started to bark and tug hard at her leash. She was definitely seeing or hearing or smelling something.
Unsure what to do – I didn’t want to turn my back on whoever or whatever might be back there, but I didn’t want to go investigate either – I took a deep breath and decided our best course of action was to stay on the busier, if not really busy, Main Street. I held the leash tight and tugged Mayhem across the street, trying to act as if we were simply taking an evening stroll. If someone was following us, I didn’t think they’d buy it, but maybe they’d have sense enough not to accost us in the full light of the street lamps.
We kept walking, picking up our pace a bit, the growl still climbing Mayhem’s throat. I thought about heading back to the store and letting the alarm bring the police, but I didn’t know how quickly I could fish out my keys. Plus, if it turned out to be nothing, I’d feel very foolish when the sheriff arrived.
I glanced in the shop windows as we practically jogged by. Everything looked fine, and I regretted my decision not to stop almost immediately when I heard footsteps behind me. I didn’t dare look back lest I see someone lunging at me.
Quick as lightning, Mayhem lurched forward, dragging me into the street. I tried to slow her down, yelling Stop with my best “alpha dog” voice, but she kept going. She was either terrified, or . . .
Then, I saw where she was headed and heard the baying of a familiar hound dog voice. Daniel’s shop was straight ahead, and the lights were on. We bolted into the garage, and Mayhem let out a volley of sharp barks.
Daniel came out of a door at a run, and I felt tears of relief spring to my eyes. “Harvey, are you okay?” He was by my side in seconds.
I fell into his chest and let out a hard sob. His arms came around my back and pulled me tight to him. A few moments later, when my sobs subsided, he pushed me gently away from him and asked, “You okay? What happened?”
I pointed toward a low stool at the side of the garage, and he walked me over so I could sit down. “I’m not sure, honestly. Mayhem heard or saw something, and she brought me here. I thought I heard footsteps behind us.”
Daniel walked to the door and looked out with Mayhem at his heels. “I don’t see anything, but I’m glad you came here.”
“I didn’t see anything either. But Mayhem doesn’t usually act like that. Maybe she just smelled bacon.” I tried to laugh.
“I doubt it. That’s your girl. She knew you were in danger.” His voice was serious.
“I feel silly. Maybe it was just my imagination. You guys were so worried. I guess I got a little spooked.”
Daniel kneeled down to look into my face. “I don’t know you well, Harvey, but you’re not a person who scares easily, I can tell you that. If you – and Mayhem here – thought someone was out there, someone was out there.”
I still felt a little ridiculous, but his confidence in my good sense was bolstering. To be believed is not a minor thing. I took a long, deep breath.
“Maybe you could walk me over for movie night?”
“I’d be honored, and if it’s okay with you, I’ll walk you home each night after this, too.” He blushed a little. “I mean, until they catch the killer.”
I winked at him. “But only until then. Once this murder is solved, I’m on my own.”
“Right. Exactly.” He put out his hand and helped me up. Then, he kept hold of my hand all the way to my house.
Movie night was perfect. Terrifying – especially after my scare earlier in the evening – but perfect. Somehow, being so scared that I had to keep my hand over my mouth because I kept making everyone else scream when I screamed took away some of the terror of earlier in the evening. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t scared.
Or that my friends were going to let me pretend I wasn’t.
Mart had already cancelled an overnight trip for a consulting gig outside Philly, and Walter and Stephen had vowed to be at the store every minute for the next two days just as back-up. “Back-up for what?” I’d joked. “Will your organizational skills fend off an attacker?”
Stephen had thrown a pillow at me, and I’d smiled. Once again, I was reminded that I had good people around me.
After midnight, when Us ended, I walked Daniel to the door. I’d told him that he and Taco were welcome to crash on the couch, but he’d noted that Rocky seemed to have already claimed th
at honor. She had passed out halfway into the second movie, and when her phone had gone off, I’d answered her mom’s text by telling her that Rocky was safe and could stay here for the night.
“Besides, Taco and I will sleep better in our own beds,” Daniel said. Then he leaned in closer. “Do you need me to stay?”
“Oh no. I have plenty of company. It’s just late, and well, I’d kind of like you to stay.” I blushed at my candor. Adrenaline, hard cider, and fatigue made me brazen.
He gave me a tender smile. “I’d like to stay, too. But maybe our first sleepover can just be the two of us sometime.”
I felt my heart kick hard against my chest. “I’d like that.”
He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on my lips before turning and heading down the drive with Taco trailing behind at the speed of molasses.
His gentle kiss made sleep come easily, but in the middle of the night, I jerked awake and sent Aslan hissing to the floor. I’d had a nightmare about a giant paper flower chasing me down the street. That image haunted me until I got up, checked the doors, and made sure Mayhem was on the couch by the front door. She raised her head as I walked through. “Always on alert, aren’t you, girl?” I gave her a good rub before heading back to try and sleep.
The next morning, I woke to the smell of bacon and came out to find all three of my closest friends dressed and cooking in the kitchen. “You guys are up and about early.”
“Well, we have a bookstore to run,” Walter said as he handed me my largest mug full of the darkest coffee I’d ever seen.
I smiled. “Thanks, guys. Really.” The coffee was so good, and I was going to need it. I hadn’t slept well after my nightmare, and if yesterday was an indication, it was going to be a doozy of a day at the shop.
After a quick shower, I took an extra second to slather on my favorite vanilla lotion before heading to the foyer to walk to the shop. As I passed Mart she said, “Ooh, vanilla. Someone’s hopeful.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh nothing,” she said with a conspiratorial wink. “You just only wear vanilla when you feel really good about yourself.”
I started to object, but then realized two things. My objection would do nothing but make me look defensive, and also, Mart was right. I did feel good about myself. A kiss from a handsome man will do that to a person.
All that good feeling faded away as we reached Main Street, though. One block up from the shop, the street was closed by a police car with its lights on, and I could see a group of people milling around on the sidewalks nearby. By some sort of tacit agreement, my friends and I crossed the street and passed by the commotion as far from it as possible. Maybe we knew that we’d just be in the way. Maybe we didn’t want to be voyeurs about someone else’s mishap. Or maybe we’d all just had enough adventure for the time being. But none of us tried to see what was going on.
Which was just as well because in a small town, nothing stays quiet for long. Within minutes, Woody had come in and found me. “You should know, Harvey. Deputy Williams was killed last night.” I took a step back and ran into the wall of bookshelves behind me. “What?! Murdered. There on the street?”
“Well, not exactly on the street. She was in back of the stores here, by your parking lot.”
I felt lightheaded. “Oh my word.” I couldn’t find anything else to say, so I just stood there and let the tears slide down my cheeks.
I hadn’t known her well, but I did know her. And this was the second murder nearby in the past week. All that combined with my scare the night before had me near losing it in my own shop.
Just then, Daniel came in. He took one look at my face and grabbed a chair from the café. “Sit down, Harvey.”
Walter stepped out from around the young adult bookshelf, studied my face, and headed to the back. Seconds later, he, Stephen, and Mart were there, all with looks of deep concern on their faces.
Woody told them what had happened, and Mart slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Walter and Stephen put their arms around one another. It was very quiet for a few moments.
Finally, I let out a shuddering breath and said, “Do they know what happened?”
“Apparently,” Woody said, “she was doing her patrol about seven-thirty when someone ambushed her. Killed her instantly, it looks like.”
“At least she didn’t suffer,” Stephen said as he glanced at me. I must have looked terrible because he said, “Harvey?!”
Mart looked up at Woody. “Did you say about seven-thirty?”
He nodded.
“It wasn’t my imagination.” I leaned my head back and stared at the ceiling. Mayhem had heard Deputy Williams’ murder – that’s what got her so scared – and I hadn’t done a thing. “I could have helped her.”
“Harvey Beckett, you need to stop it right now.” Mart crawled over and put her face in mine. “You were almost a second victim.”
“Third,” I whispered.
“What?” Mart asked.
“I was almost the third victim.”
Mart sighed. “Right. The third victim. If you had tried to help, you definitely would have been.” She sank to the floor again and dropped her head into her hands. I thought she might be crying.
Daniel took my hand. “Mart’s right, Harvey. Mayhem saved you.”
Somewhere in the fog of shock, I could feel myself with two choices – give in and let myself fall apart or take a deep breath and move forward. I breathed in.
Then, I stood up. “I need to talk to the sheriff, tell him what happened to me last night. Maybe it will help.”
Woody headed toward the door, “I’ll get him.”
“Is he okay?” I asked the older man as he opened the front door. “Were he and Deputy Williams close?”
“Not per se, I don’t think. But then is anybody really okay when someone you know is killed?” He gave a sad smile and let the door close behind him.
Stephen looked me hard in the face and then asked, “What can I get you?”
I thought for a minute. “Chamomile tea with lots of honey and lemon.” I needed to steady myself, slow down my heart rate.
“You got it,” Stephen said and headed toward the café.
“You want to stay open?” Mart said.
“I do. Books help in a crisis. This is a way we can help. Let’s put up a sign that says, ‘Free coffee.’ And I’ll put together a display for the front table of books on grief and trauma.”
Daniel put his arm around my shoulders. “Lead the way.”
I steered us toward the psychology section to do what I could do – recommend books people needed.
Neighbors streamed into the store all day – some to have a cup of coffee, many to just see people from the community together. We didn’t make a lot of sales, but it still felt like the shop was serving its purpose.
At one point, I came upon Marcus reading in the fiction section. He had a copy of Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake in his hand, and he was apparently so engrossed in the story that he didn’t hear me walk up. “Oh, that book is amazing,” I said, and he almost jumped to the ceiling.
He put a hand on his heart. “Shi—take mushrooms, Ms. Beckett. You scared me.”
“I’m so sorry, Marcus.” I sat down on the arm of the chair next to him. “You must really be liking this book.”
“I am. You’ve read it?”
“Read the whole trilogy. Some of Atwood’s best.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I agree. I mean I loved The Handmaid’s Tale, but this one, the science . . . I’m dying to read the next two.”
This kid was a reader, an astute reader. I knew we’d been brought together for a reason. “Well, we have them when you’re ready. You can sit right here and read the whole trilogy.”
He looked down. “Really? I mean, I know these books are for sale.”
“Really.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Any fan of Atwood can read here anytime. But mind if I ask a rude question – how did you hear about her? I mean,
these books aren’t—”
“Aren’t exactly standard reading for a black man in America?” He was smiling, but I could also hear an edge in his voice. “My mom was an English teacher. She introduced me to The Cat’s Eye back in eighth grade. Something about Atwood’s stories just intrigues me. They’re almost magical, but not quite . . . and there’s always this thread of hope.”
I patted his shoulder. “Exactly. I love her, too. When you’re done with these, check out A. S. Byatt. Do you know her?”
“Only Possession, but if you recommend her other stuff, I’ll totally read it.”
This kid was amazing. “I’ll put together a list.” I smiled and stood up. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
That evening, we all sat around the shop floor – Mart, Stephen, Walter, Daniel, Woody, Rocky, and I – and passed cartons of Chinese food around. The store had been slammed. The news of the murder had traveled, so that brought more people to town than usual. Plus, the prominent mention on social media and the first of the real tourist trade had meant we were bustling as soon as the street was reopened.
The sheriff had come by late in the afternoon to get my statement about the night before. He’d looked haggard, worn down, raw. Rocky brought him a very large latte with extra, extra cream, and he drank it down in one gulp.
“Hard day, huh?”
“The hardest. Nothing about this job is particularly easy – except maybe the parades,” he said with a weak smile. “But when it’s someone you know . . .”
“Yeah.” We sat in silence for a while.
“So someone was following you last night, Woody said?”
I shrugged. “I think so. I mean, I was really scared. And Mayhem was all kinds of worked up, but I didn’t really see anything.”
Publishable by Death Page 9