Rita moved through the crowd with coffeepots, pouring refills, and Keith did the same with a bottle of sparkling wine.
“The first item tonight is this lovely antique reading lamp.” I gently held up the delicate brass lamp, its shade the shape of a large bluebell flower, the petals made of translucent mother of pearl edged in brass.
Phillie reached into the bowl and read out the number on the ticket. An excited patron came forward to claim the gift, and Mason packed it gently into a box he’d brought from the back room.
“Next is a beautiful set of bookends made of hand-blown glass.” I picked one up, its tall glass spire twisted gracefully over a glass block base. As I turned it in the light, its interior prisms sent rainbows of color across the room.
Again, Phillie read the number, and this time Linus Talbot stepped forward as winner, Eddy close at heel. I hadn’t seen them exit the back room, and I smiled at the loyal dog while his owner happily accepted the open box bottom Mason had found to hold the bookends.
Two more patrons happily won the ornately carved bookcase and gift certificate, and congratulations were extended to each winner as everyone headed out to the parking lots at either end of the historic district, commemorative mugs in hand.
A touch on my arm caught my attention, and I turned.
“I’ve repaired the book as best I could with what you have in the back room. The fact that it’s now been damaged and repaired will devalue it somewhat.” Linus shook his head. “It’s a shame too. It was a lovely copy.”
I followed the librarian back through the store to the back room and stood gazing at the repaired book. To my untrained eye, I couldn’t see any remaining damage. However, I knew I couldn’t sell something to a customer without disclosing the damage and repair.
My fingers trailed across the brass binding surrounding a white cover with black and gold scroll work, an ornate cutout in the center. Green grosgrain material backed the cutout, on which “MILTON” was stamped in gold lettering, matching the gold gilt edging on the pages. Who had read this book over almost two centuries since its publication in 1853?
“It’s still in wonderful condition, in spite of the repair.”
Linus’s words pulled me from my walk into the past, and I turned as he headed into the front room.
“How long until I can safely put it back out on the shelf?” Even knocking down the price a bit, I could still get a nice sum for the book.
Linus furrowed his brow. “I’d say around two days. That should be sufficient time for it to set.”
I thanked him profusely for his time, since he had been here as a guest, not to work on my books, and waved to him as he left, the faithful Eddy at his side.
“Well, that was sure a party.” Rita leaned on the front counter and slipped her heels off. “At least I wasn’t wearing a hoop skirt and crinoline, not to mention a corset.” She rubbed her hands down her ribs.
I joined her, both at the counter and in her barefoot state. “We did have folks dressed from informal to formal. You would have fit right in with one of your work outfits.”
Rita worked at the inn as head of the makeup and hair artistry department. People who visited the inn were swept back in time with period events, formal dinners, and more. Each guest was dressed and coiffed in period style, and the staff, including Rita, dressed the part as well.
I sagged against the counter, taking weight off one of my tired feet. “All drama aside, I think it went reasonably well.”
Warm arms snaked around me from behind. “It went beautifully.” Keith planted a kiss on the back of my head. “You’ll be the talk of the town.”
Mason exited the back room with one of the rental glassware racks in his hands. “Especially if everyone hears about all the brouhaha that went on.” He set the rack on the counter and moved about the room, picking up half-empty champagne flutes.
Rita threw a balled-up napkin at Mason. “It all smoothed out in the end.” She leaned over, put an arm around me, elbowing Keith aside, and squeezed my shoulders. “For now, we can relax. Mason can do a little bit of the cleanup tonight, but we can leave most of it for tomorrow. I have the morning off and can help out.”
Too exhausted to care, I nodded and walked to the front door. As I checked the lock, a red and white streak ran past the front windows. Eddy?
Without thought for my stockings, I unlocked the door and yanked it open. “Eddy!”
Keith followed me out the door. “You saw Linus’s dog?”
“Yes, he ran past as if the boogeyman was after him.” I pointed down the street in the direction I’d seen the animal run.
Keith took off at a jog, calling softly, while I ran through the store to the fridge in the back, hoping I could find treats to coax the frightened dog. What had scared him so badly? And where was Linus?
Pushing that thought out of my mind, I raced out the door again, lunchmeat in my hands, to see Keith walking toward the store, a large bundle in his arms wrapped in his jacket. I held the door open, and he brought the terrified dog inside.
Carefully Keith set the dog on the floor, and I knelt to soothe Eddy, offering him a treat. A dark stain covered his feet.
“Keith, is that …”
Keith knelt beside me and picked up a paw. “Blood.”
“Linus …” My stomach tightened.
Keith stood and strode out the door. I jumped up, jammed my feet back into my high heels, my aching feet forgotten, and raced after Keith in the direction we’d seen Linus go when he left the store.
As we neared the parking lot, I could see a lone car in the lot, its passenger door open and the dome light on, the soft dinging of the door chime echoing through the air.
Keith’s stride took him to the car considerably faster than I could run in high heels if I didn’t want to risk breaking an ankle. I skittered around the open door to see Keith kneeling beside a still body. A shattered blown-glass bookend lay on the asphalt, shards immersed in the dark puddle that oozed out from under Linus’s head.
Keith turned. “Go call the police. Tell them I’m here securing the scene.”
“Is he …?” I couldn’t finish the sentence as a lump rose in my throat.
Keith’s jaw clenched. “Tell them we’ll need the coroner.”
Chapter Three
Detective Frank Sutter yanked open the front door and plowed into the store. I groaned inwardly. The tactless detective, with his piercing stare and accusatory manner, had the people skills of a rock. Keith swore Sutter got amazing results, but how the belligerent man had managed to move up that far in the police force, I would never know.
“You again.” Sutter huffed to a halt in front of me and reached for the little notebook I knew he kept in the breast pocket of his coat. “I should have known.”
“Well, hello to you too, Detective Sutter. It’s nice to see you again. How have you been?” What was I saying? Snarkiness wouldn’t endear me to the bull-headed detective, as his narrowed eyes and humph confirmed, but I just hadn’t been able to help myself.
Keith slipped his arm around me. “Don’t start, Frank. You know this isn’t her fault in any way.”
Grunt. “So you say.” He grasped a pencil in his meaty fingers and pinned me with his gaze. “Why don’t you tell me about tonight’s shindig?” Grunt.
I cringed at the grunting, an irritating sound that reminded me all too much of my first terrifying encounter with the abrasive detective—an encounter I’d prefer to forget. Resisting the urge to run, I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves. “We held the grand reopening event tonight for the book elite of Hokes Folly.”
I proceeded to tell Sutter about the night, the kerfuffles that had occurred, the drawing, and finding the body. When I finished, he remained silent for a few moments while he completed the notes he’d been furiously taking while I spoke.
“Do you have a copy of that guest list?”
I nodded and motioned to Mason, where he and Rita still sat calming the dog. He rose and st
rode across the room, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed.
“Mason, can you get your copy of the guest list, take a photo of each page with your phone for our records, and then give the original to the detective, please?” Mason’s copy would have the attending guests’ names checked off, so Sutter wouldn’t have to bother those who hadn’t shown up.
Mason nodded and wordlessly disappeared into the back room, Sutter trailing behind him.
A hand touched my arm, taking my attention away from Sutter’s retreating back. I turned to find Keith holding out a cup of coffee.
“You look like you could use this.”
“You have no idea.” Gratefully I took the Twice Upon a Time mug and lifted it to my lips, letting the warm liquid fortify me.
Keith raked a hand through his wavy, dark hair. “Believe me, I know. And I feel so useless.”
“Useless?” My hands gripped the warm mug, trying to leech warmth back into my icy fingers. “Why? Shouldn’t you be helping Sutter question everyone?”
Keith shook his head. “It’s policy. I was present at the event and found the victim with you. I’m a witness and therefore can’t take part in the investigation.”
“Oh no. There’s no one to rein him in.” A wave of pity washed through me for those Sutter would question in the coming days, tinged with a bit of dread for my own continued encounters with the bullying man.
“Not this time.” Keith sighed. “He has no idea how to deal with people. He’s like a bull in a china shop with everything he does. He keeps saying he’ll retire, but he won’t set a definite date. But as rough as he is, I’d rather have Frank Sutter on the case than anyone from County.”
Almost as if he sensed our conversation topic, Sutter left the back room and moved his bulky form across the store to where I stood with Keith. “Your employee, Mason Craig, said tonight was an invitation-only event. How did you select the guest list?” He waved the stack of papers in my direction.
“Rita and I went through Uncle Paul’s client listings. He kept careful notes on which special clients bought what types of books and how often. That way he could contact a suitable buyer if a really nice book fell in his lap.” I took a sip of the coffee Keith had brought, letting its warmth soothe my nerves as it slid down my throat.
Grunt. “This was the cream of the crop of your uncle’s customers?”
I nodded. “Tonight was only for a select few. More of a PR event than anything else. Tomorrow morning we’ll begin a weeklong grand reopening sale, which is open to everyone.”
Sutter nodded and made a note in the little book he always kept handy.
I flinched inwardly, realizing the rumors that would swirl around my sale. How many customers would choose not to come out of fear or a sense of propriety? This was hardly how I envisioned my full leap into the world of selling books.
However, my possibly lost sales were nothing compared to the grief a family would feel tonight when receiving the news of a lost husband, father, or friend. My brow wrinkled. I’d talked to the librarian a few times on the phone and had finally met him in person for the first time in the store that evening, but I knew relatively little about him other than his vocation and the few vague tidbits I’d gathered based on his interactions with other customers and his dog.
Sutter’s gravelly voice dragged me back into the conversation. “In the meantime, we’ll also need a full accounting of who left early.”
I nodded. “If Mason hasn’t marked it clearly on the list, he should be able to walk you through that. I wasn’t at the door, so I’m not the best person to ask.” I craned my neck to search the room for my employee.
“Not so fast.” Grunt.
Sutter’s hand on my arm made goosebumps prickle up to my shoulder. I turned to face him.
“How well did you know the victim?”
“I spoke to him on the phone briefly after Uncle Paul died, regarding a book he had appraised prior to my uncle’s death.” I saw no reason to add which book that had been and reopen a case best left closed. “I’ve spoken to him a couple of other times since then about books I’ve run across that might hold value. However, we met in person for the first time tonight.”
“Oh?” Grunt. He narrowed his eyes as if looking for a reason to suspect me. “No old flame there? No college friend’s dad or friend of a friend? No other connection?”
I gritted my teeth at being the brunt of yet more of Sutter’s smarmy insinuations. I’d had enough of those a couple of months ago. “Mr. Talbot was invited because he was one of Uncle Paul’s loyal customers, and he enjoyed expensive antique books. There’s nothing more to it than that.” I was doubly grateful I held the coffee mug. It gave my fingers something to squeeze, keeping me from succumbing to the urge to throttle the man.
“And where were you at the time of the murder?”
Keith jumped in before I could answer, which was probably just as well, since I was very close to going off on the irritating detective.
“Jenna and I were both cleaning up after the guests left, as were Mason and Jenna’s neighbor, Rita Wallace. They can both confirm Jenna never left the store.”
“Really? I’ll have to check into that.” Grunt. Sutter’s sneer said he doubted the story, but he flipped his notepad to a new page and moved off to find his next target.
I heaved a sigh of relief, glad I’d managed not to blow my top at him. “How do you work with him without strangling him?” I asked Keith.
Keith chuckled. “I’ve developed a thick skin and a warped sense of humor.” He shrugged.
I humphed and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off the headache that had begun to pulse behind my eyes. “I suppose I’ll have to come up with a way to spin this.”
“Look on the bright side.” Keith tossed me an irreverent grin. “Once word gets around there was a murder in the parking lot after your event, people will line up to get in to see the store. Just be ready to sell them all some books.”
In spite of the macabre situation, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Thank goodness I had Keith. Last time I’d been in Sutter’s sights, Keith and I hadn’t known one another. Even then, however, he’d stood up to Sutter on my behalf, and one thing led to another … and here we were. I looked down at my now-cold coffee I still clutched in one hand. Why not? I took a sip and knew why not when I almost gagged at the taste. It seemed temperature really did matter. I looked up at Keith again. “He doesn’t really think I had anything to do with all of this, does he?”
Keith looked across the room at Sutter, who spoke quietly with another officer. “He’s still frustrated that his pet theory about your uncle’s and Norman Childers’s murders didn’t pan out.”
“So he wants to nail me with this one? Is he crazy? Does he really think I’d kill someone—even if I wanted to kill someone in the first place—in the parking lot near my store, right after an event that places me here?” Mentally I counted to ten. Surely the man couldn’t be that vindictively narrow-minded.
“As nutty as he is, Sutter does get results, though I’m not quite sure how,” Keith assured me. “Besides, he can’t pin it on you. There are too many people who will vouch for the fact that you were inside with us when Mr. Talbot was killed.”
I stopped myself before absently taking another swig of the cold coffee, instead handing it to Keith. “I suppose you’re right.” I glanced toward the front of the store and noticed Mason slumped on a stool behind the counter while Sutter knelt on the floor beside Rita and Eddy, checking the dog’s paws.
Mason raised his gaze to meet mine as I approached. “Hey, boss lady. Not a great way to end a party.”
“No, not exactly the pleasantly memorable evening I had hoped for.” I leaned on the counter next to him.
“At least it will be memorable.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Keith says morbid curiosity will bring in the customers.” I wondered how fast the gossip mills would churn this out and at what point they would it turn into a free-for-all
shooting spree—inside the store, no less—with multiple victims.
“Sure it will,” agreed Mason. “We should use it in our advertising. ‘We have books to die for.’”
My eyebrows shot up. “That’s awful!” I clamped my lips together to control the inappropriate giggle that wanted to burst out.
“How about ‘Twice Upon a Time: Home of the Killer Deals’?” His hands swept in front of him as if he envisioned a marquee.
I managed to stifle my mirth again, guilt quickly replacing it. “Linus Talbot was a nice man, and we shouldn’t make fun of his death.”
Mason wilted on his stool. “You’re right. I use humor when I’m under stress.”
I patted him on the arm. “It’s okay. We all handle things differently. Just don’t let the police hear you say something like that.”
“Not everyone thought he was nice, though.” Mason fidgeted with his tie, loosening it before pulling it over his head to toss into a heap on the counter.
I sighed deeply. “No, I suppose they didn’t.”
Motion out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I turned to see Rita frantically waving me over to where she still sat with Eddy. Sutter had cornered Keith, and the two seemed deep in a heavy conversation. I scooted over to where Rita sat.
“What’s up?” I squatted and stroked Eddy’s head, relieved to see the dog looked far calmer than he had when Keith had brought him inside.
“Frank Sutter is what’s up!” Rita’s cheeks were flushed, and her gaze sparkled with fury.
I turned my head to look at Sutter and Keith. “What happened?”
“He called animal control,” Rita sputtered.
My head whipped back around to stare at Rita. “What?”
“I can’t believe it. If I could take him home with me, I would, but my lease won’t allow it. After all this poor baby has been through, now he’s going to a cold cell at the pound?” A single tear slid down her face, either from anger or compassion or maybe a bit of both.
My own anger flared at the injustice. Flashes of Eddy flooded my mind, looking adoringly at Linus, staying at Linus’s side, stepping up when he felt a threat to Linus, and finally running in terror and helplessness when he’d seen his owner, his best friend, murdered in front of him.
Murder by the Bookend Page 3