by Essie Lang
“And did you?”
“I chickened out. What if she’d called me on it and threatened to sue? I had a computer crash and lost a lot of data, including my notes about the book. So, I had no real proof.”
“But you still pulled that stunt in the store. She could still have sued you.”
“I hadn’t stopped to really think it through. I just got so angry when she started her reading.”
Shelby paused, trying to gather her thoughts. She felt they were going around in circles. Jenna seemed to have an answer for everything. And what was that about Savannah agreeing to meet after the signing? She’d also told Rachel Michaels they would have coffee, but she’d had dinner plans with Shelby and Edie. What was going on?
“What do you plan to do now?”
“What do you mean?” Jenna looked surprised by the question.
“Well, the book idea is probably wide open again. Are you going to start writing it now?”
“Uh, to tell you the truth, I hadn’t given it much more thought. She only just died. I know, that sounds cold, but it’s true. Besides, I’ve been sorta busy here.” Jenna looked at the ceiling, then focused on the wall behind Shelby and sighed. “Coming to your bookstore may not have been my best idea. It was overly dramatic, wasn’t it?”
“A bit.”
“I didn’t mean to draw attention to myself, really. I only wanted to embarrass her in front of her adoring fans. I knew she’d never in a million years admit it. It was an act of desperation.” She paused and focused again on Shelby. “Like I said before, do you think I choose to work here? That I enjoy working here? All right, maybe I do a little, but I’m not making anything from my writing, so here I am.”
Shelby didn’t know what to say, so she sat quietly. She was sure Jenna wasn’t finished yet.
“And,” she continued, proving Shelby right, “the worst thing is, I really, really loved her writing. She was my hero; that’s why I was so stoked when she actually talked to me at the festival. Me, unpublished Jenna Dunlop. But look where it got me. I should have taken my friend Kyra’s advice.”
Shelby was almost afraid to ask, but she didn’t have to.
Jenna stood and started pacing in the small space. “Kyra told me to trust my instincts when it comes to writing. She reads my stuff and says I’m good, that I just have to keep working at it to hone my skills. She also says I should start sending it out, to agents and other writers, and get some real feedback. You know, there’s not really anybody in town here to ask, except maybe Judy Carter at the library or”—she paused and took a good look at Shelby—“you, maybe, if you’d agree. You own a bookstore, so you know about good writing.”
Shelby was dumbfounded. This wasn’t where she’d thought this conversation would lead. But she realized she didn’t have to answer right away.
“Or maybe you know somebody,” Jenna plowed on ahead, plopping back into the chair, “like a writer maybe, who you could check in with and ask if I could get in touch with her. Or him. That’s all; I’d get in touch, then, and do the asking about reading my manuscript. I know this puts you in an awkward position. I really don’t want to impose, but I don’t know where else to turn.”
Jenna sat back and gripped the arms of the chair. “I’m babbling, aren’t I? I do that when I’m nervous. You see how important it is to me? I wanted to cause Savannah Page some embarrassment and anguish. And I hope I did.”
Not much of a plan. And it didn’t sound like she’d included a detour to kill Savannah, but Shelby had to ask. “Did you see Savannah again after that confrontation?”
“No, I didn’t. I was working a day shift here. You can ask.” Her jaw jutted forward, and she crossed her arms across her chest.
“I was thinking maybe later that night?”
“What? Are you accusing me of murdering her?” Jenna sputtered. “I did not. I’m not a murderer. I’d never, ever do something that evil. Besides, when you get right down to it, it was just a plot for a book. I told you, I embarrassed her, and that’s what I’d planned to do. Don’t you go trying to pin a murder on me.”
“I was just asking.” Shelby knew it was time for her to go.
“Yeah, well, it sounded like an accusation to me, but you don’t have any proof because I didn’t do it.” She sounded like her feelings were hurt. “Now, can I get on with my break? Alone?”
Shelby smiled, hoping to generate some goodwill. “Of course, I won’t take up any more of your time. Thanks for talking to me, Jenna.” She paused at the door. “I hope you have good luck with your writing.”
Jenna looked surprised, then asked, “She didn’t really plan to meet with me, did she?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, she must have known what was on my mind. That’s if she even remembered me. So, I’m glad I did what I did.” Jenna sighed. “She probably didn’t even remember me, right? That’s even more depressing.”
Shelby made sympathetic noises and then pulled the door shut behind her.
She took a few moments deciding what to do next. She actually believed Jenna, so what next? Home seemed like the best idea. She threaded her way through the chairs and people to the door and was reaching for it when it was pulled open and Zack stood there along with two guys she didn’t know.
“Shelby. I’m surprised to see you here.” He looked behind her toward the bar. “Or maybe I’m not.”
The two guys chuckled and pushed past him, turning back to face them after they’d moved inside. Zack did the introductions. “Shelby Cox, owner of Bayside Books. This is Jeff and Kevin. I work with these guys. We finished up much earlier than expected,” he quickly explained. “I’ll catch up in a minute, guys,” he said to them as he pulled Shelby out of the doorway and shut in the noise. “Would you like to join us?”
“No, thanks. I’m actually tired. It’s been a long day.”
“I have a feeling you’ve been asking some questions,” Zack said. “Doesn’t Jenna Dunlop work here?”
“Actually, I had a fairly good supper, and a few questions may have been involved. I’m surprised you remember her name, not being involved in the investigation. Or are you now?”
He shook his head, smiling. “Nope. I just like to keep track of what possibilities there are for you to get in trouble. I do have a vested interest in your well-being, you know.”
His face was so close, she was sure he’d kiss her, but instead he asked, “Are we still on for the Wine Festival on Saturday night?”
“Of course. A date is a date.” They’d made the plans a couple of months earlier when the tickets went on sale. “Or are you having second thoughts?” she asked, with mock seriousness.
“The thought never crossed my mind. How about if I come by around six, or is that too early?”
“No, that sounds good. I look forward to it.”
“Me, too.” He gave her a quick kiss, lingering on the sidewalk as she walked away.
Her entire body was still tingling as she stepped onto her dock.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Shelby spotted Matthew when she got off the shuttle the next morning. She’d spent a few minutes standing on the dock, soaking up the rays of sun peeking through the clouds, possibly for the final time that morning, and breathing deeply. She felt good as she started up the walkway. And there was Matthew, walking slowly, head down, scanning the path between his house and the castle. He had his New York Rangers ball cap pulled down over his forehead and a small flashlight in his right hand. It definitely looked like he was searching for something. Something he’d lost?
She hurried over to him, wanting to know what was up, but also because she wanted to get indoors before the rain started. The sky looked ominous despite the occasional sunny moments, and the wind seemed to be picking up. She longed for the sunny fall days and colorful trees she’d been promised when she’d moved here, but it looked like she’d have to wait a little while longer for those. At least until tomorrow.
“Did you lose something
, Matthew?”
“Huh? What? Oh, Shelby.” He looked surprised to see her. “I was.” He paused and looked around them. “Well, the thing is, I’m pretty sure someone broke into my place last night, and I’m looking for, I don’t know, anything suspicious.”
“In the underbrush beside the path? What could there be? Do you think you’ll find footprints? There must be so many. How will you know what’s what?”
“I’m thinking that if anything was taken, maybe part of it was dropped, and that might give me a clue to either who it was or what he wanted.” He straightened up and looked toward the water. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it? Someone went through my papers, I know that. I’m just not sure yet if any were taken. If so, maybe whoever it was was in a hurry and dropped one. Doubtful, though. And how did they get here? It must have been after hours.”
“I take it you weren’t here overnight.” She felt embarrassed stating the obvious.
He didn’t look at her but shook his head. “No, no I wasn’t. And nobody else should have been either. I doubt anyone would be brazen enough to tie up at the main dock with all those lights.” He turned in the direction of the Grotto. “I wonder if that’s been put to use again? I’d better check it out. Or maybe they just used my small dock, although I’ve already checked the pathway there and found nothing.”
“Do you think it could be the murderer? Maybe he came over the same way, whichever way that was, as the night he murdered Savannah.”
“I had thought about that, but what could he be looking for in my place?”
“Maybe he’d hoped to find you.”
Matthew stopped walking. “What are you saying?”
Her answer had just popped out, but she gave it some thought before answering. “What if he thought you had some evidence or saw him or …” She stopped, not quite sure what else to say. It sort of made sense as a motive, but didn’t really.
“That’s highly unlikely. Don’t you think the killer would have tried something before now if that were the case?”
“Sure, I guess you’re right. That would make more sense. But what else could it be?” Shelby stared at the ground, willing a clue to present itself. She hated the thought that the privacy of the ever-reserved Matthew had been invaded. She zipped her jacket up to the neckline as a stronger gust of wind rocked her. “Don’t you think you should call the police? Maybe there are fingerprints.”
Matthew shook his head. “I’m not going to get them involved in what’s only a supposition at this point. My desk and file cabinet look … different, and I could tell the papers on my desk had been rifled through, but nothing’s dreadfully out of place.” He passed his right hand over his forehead. “Maybe I’m getting old and forgetful. Maybe I didn’t straighten things the way I usually do.”
He looked up at the sky. “Hadn’t you better get inside and get your store opened? Not that I don’t appreciate your concern, but it’s getting late and that sky looks ominous. I’ll just poke around a little more, but I think it’s useless.”
Shelby glanced at her watch. “You’re right, gotta run. Good luck. Let me know if you find anything, okay?”
Matthew gave her an odd look.
“What can I say, you’ve got my curiosity piqued.” She gave him a quick wave and followed the path back to the main walkway up to the castle, reaching the doors just as the heavens opened. She glanced back at the rain and made a face.
So much for a busy day.
She’d just gotten the coffee started when the phone rang. It was Taylor, calling from the main store.
“I’m working in town today, in case you didn’t know, and you’ll never guess who’s here,” she said in a hushed voice.
“Who?”
“It’s that number-one fan of Savannah Page, you know, the one who says she’s also a true-crime writer. She was talking to you the other day, she says.”
“Rachel Michaels.”
“That’s right. She seems a bit shifty to me, but maybe that’s how it goes when that’s your topic. She asked if you were in today, and I said you were at the castle location. And she said she just thought you might alternate stores. I mean, who even stops to think about that? Then she started asking me about Matthew and also asked if we had any books about or by him. What’s up with her? Like I said, she’s acting, I don’t know, kind of covert.”
“Covert? Define covert.”
Taylor almost whispered, “She keeps glancing at the front door, the whole time she’s been here. Strange, you know?”
Shelby thought about it for a few moments before answering. “First off, I think she was making sure I wasn’t coming in before asking you about the books. When she was in here the other day, she asked me to do something, and right now I’m probably the last person she wants to run into.”
“Why’s that?”
“She asked if I could line up an introduction to Matthew. She wanted to pick his brain, I guess. I checked with him first, and he said no way. When I told her that, she wasn’t too happy. I guess she thought I was her ticket to meeting him. And then she said that she wants to write about his wife’s death. I told her it wasn’t likely he’d talk about that either. Can you imagine?”
“Huh. Well, maybe she’s doing an end run, going directly to his books first, which we don’t have any of anyway. I did suggest she try the library.”
“What’s she doing now?”
“She’s gone through our small section of true crime and is now thumbing through cookbooks.”
“Hope she at least buys one of those. I’m glad she’s added some intrigue to your day, anyway. Is it busy there, by any chance?”
“Nope, but that’s not a surprise on a day like today.”
“So true. Would you keep me posted about our shopper? Gotta go. I’ve finally got my own customers coming in.”
When she was once again able to think about Rachel and her appearance at the bookstore, a couple of hours later after a surprisingly busy time, she figured Rachel must not have bought a cookbook or she would surely have heard back. Perhaps she’d taken Taylor’s advice instead and headed to the library. She was certainly determined, but Shelby guessed you had to be to make it as an author.
The question was, had Rachel been determined enough to break into Matthew’s house?
That thought came out of the blue but seemed so logical, she knew she needed to find Matthew and talk it over with him.
The ringing telephone put a hold on that for now. She saw it was the main store. Maybe Taylor had been too busy to call until now.
But it was Edie on the line. “Are you sitting down?”
“Yes, but why are you in the store?”
“Because Taylor called me right after calling her husband. She’s in the hospital.”
“What happened? Is she okay? Have you heard anything?”
“Not yet, but Chuck has promised to call when there’s news. She told me she had some pains, almost like contractions, but it’s way too early for that. She probably shouldn’t have come in today. I hope that doctor gives her strict orders about what she can and cannot do. She can be quite determined, as you know.”
“I do know that. This is upsetting, but we’ll hope for the best. I think her earlier miscarriage was at only a couple of months in. Like I said, we’ll hope for the best. But how are you? Are you up to doing a shift today? Can Trudy spell you?”
“No, she can’t. Trudy has gone to Syracuse for a day’s shopping trip, but I’m fine. I won’t do any shelving or the like. I promise to just sit here and talk to customers, and take their money of course,” she added with a chuckle.
“I like the sound of that. Well, keep me posted if you hear any news, and be sure to let me know if it gets too tiring. I can always close early here and relieve you.”
Shelby kept her hand on the receiver after hanging up, trying to gather her thoughts. She hoped and prayed everything would be okay for Taylor, but she also had to look at the schedules and make certain they were prepared. O
f course, Taylor had been off the active roster for a couple of weeks now, but Shelby acknowledged that she’d liked the idea of having Taylor as a possible backup, especially with Edie’s knee. It seemed like they definitely needed to hire that part-timer, sooner rather than later. Once she had the baby, Taylor certainly wouldn’t be available again for some months, maybe even years. They’d talked about it, but she knew Taylor was being optimistic when she said she’d find a way to still pull a shift here and there.
Shelby did in fact close up an hour early and headed straight for the main store when she got off the boat. Edie looked exhausted.
“It was so slow after a short blip of activity, I was sure I’d fall asleep,” Shelby explained. “Why don’t you head home, and I’ll finish up here.”
Edie didn’t object, which proved to Shelby just how tired her aunt was. “I’m going to call you a cab,” she said.
“I guess so.”
Again, no objection. Shelby took a close look at her aunt and was surprised to really see the aging woman in front of her. Not that she was that old, only in her early sixties, but it was a reminder to Shelby that she needed to be more thoughtful around Edie. She hoped they would have many, many years ahead in which to make up for lost time.
What would she do without Edie, now that she’d found her?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Shelby checked her cell phone for any messages the next morning and, seeing none, gave Edie a quick call before leaving home.
“Nothing since Chuck’s call last night to say he was taking Taylor home. I hope she had a restful night.”
“So, you don’t know anything more about what happened?”
“No, and I don’t like to be too nosy. I’m sure Taylor will tell us what she wants us to know. I’m sure we would have heard right away if it was bad news. We’ll keep each other posted, shall we?”
“Thanks, Edie. I hope Trudy is in today and you’re staying at home.”
“Yes, she is, and I know when I’ve hit my limit. Thanks for suggesting the cab yesterday. It was the smart thing to do.”