by Riley Adams
“Mildred?” She did a quick search around the house but didn’t see her anywhere. Her little house was perfectly tidy, not a frill out of place. But no Mildred to be seen.
So it was back to the dark bookstore. Again, the thought of a frightened Mildred worried Lulu. This time she parked on a side street and walked inside the store.
The bookstore had always felt sad to Lulu. There were lots of yellowing books that had grown musty through the years, and Mildred was sort of a musty person herself. She definitely had regular customers who spent hours perusing the stacks of books, so the store always survived. And there were books everywhere—the shelves were floor to ceiling, and there were rolling stepstools on every aisle. There were also books in baskets, books on the sales counter, and books in every available space. Mildred sometimes greeted customers but sometimes not—depending on how wrapped up she was in the book she was reading or writing at the time.
“Hello?” called Lulu. She had to be there—the door was unlocked. And Mildred was more likely to forget to lock her house up than the bookstore. The bookstore held all of her most prized possessions.
Again there was no answer. The darkened bookstore had an ominous aura. Shelves of teetering books loomed over her. Swallowing down her fear, Lulu looked for the light switch. The store was getting dimmer with the setting sun. There was a switch by the door, but it didn’t seem to work. Then Lulu noticed that Mildred apparently preferred lamps for lighting. She turned on a small desk lamp. Lulu noticed other lamps farther into the store and walked down a dark, book-lined aisle to turn them on. Suddenly two hands grabbed her roughly from behind and slammed her to the floor. Before she could even cry out, something hard hit the back of her head, and she pitched into blackness.
Chapter 11
Lulu slowly came to. Her head throbbed, and waves of nausea wafted over her as she carefully sat up. She scrambled to collect her thoughts over her pounding headache. Was she still in danger?
She managed to push herself off the floor, which wasn’t easy since she was lying on her face and unused to push-ups. She didn’t immediately see her pocketbook, so she looked around frantically for a moment. Then she saw that her purse was right under her knees and remembered that it had been hooked around her arm as she’d walked into the bookstore. She opened it and rifled through. Her phone, car keys, and cash were still in there. Lulu frowned. She hadn’t been mugged.
Had Mildred done this to her? Maybe she’d thought that Lulu was the person who’d written her the threatening letter. It had been dark in the store. Perhaps she’d been terrified and, acting in irrational terror, had clubbed Lulu over the head in self-defense. And, knowing Mildred, she was totally horrified. Lulu bet that was probably what had happened.
What had she been clubbed with? Lulu looked around her and saw a huge, leather-bound copy of The Sound and the Fury. Great. Taken out by Faulkner. Well, she supposed she should consider it an honor. If it had been a graphic novel or something, then she really would have felt insulted.
Finally Lulu felt strong enough to get to her feet. She pulled herself up with the help of the bookshelves and managed to stand. After taking a couple of steps, she felt her knees giving way. She stopped and held tight to the bookcases again to regain her strength.
She listened carefully to see if she could hear the old wooden floors creaking as someone else’s weight bore down on it. But she really had the feeling that she was the only person in the store. Lulu wasn’t sure how much time had passed while she’d been unconscious. It couldn’t have been too long, though, because it wasn’t much darker in the bookshop than it had been.
“Mildred?” she called. There didn’t seem any point in being quiet since the bad guy clearly knew where she was, anyway. It’s not like she’d gotten very far. “It’s Lulu,” she added, on the off chance it was Mildred who’d walloped her. She had no desire to be mistaken for an intruder again. “Are you here? Listen, it’s no big deal if you accidentally knocked me out.” Like hell, thought Lulu. But they could discuss that part later, after Lulu was feeling better and was more like her old self again. “I just came over to check on you and make sure you were okay.”
No answer.
Lulu walked slowly toward the back of the store. She turned on a lamp along the way, which had such an old and dusty bulb that it didn’t really shed any additional light. She remembered there were two little rooms in the back of the store: a restroom and a small storage room. The restroom door was wide open, and Lulu didn’t see anyone in there at all. She pushed open the storage room. She saw a table stacked high with books. She almost didn’t notice the ballet-style flats poking out underneath the table.
“Mildred!” she cried out and hurried over to the motionless body before stopping short. Mildred was clearly dead. There was no need to take a pulse. She had been strangled with her own scarf.
This time Lulu was more used to the drill as Detective Bryce arrived at the bookstore to interview her. Maybe he was getting worried about her heart after walking in on two dead bodies, but he seemed especially gentle this time when talking with her. This time he had a sergeant offer her a cup of coffee before he questioned her about what she’d seen. They had a paramedic to come in and take a look at her head, but it was decided that there was no concussion, so the paramedic provided an ice pack and some ibuprofen.
“First of all,” said Detective Bryce, “why were you here to begin with? Were you in to do some shopping? It’s after-hours, isn’t it?” His blue eyes were innocently wide.
Lulu guessed there wasn’t any reason not to tell him why she’d come. Mildred was dead now, after all, and whatever her secret had been, it had died with her. She doubted Cherry would get into any trouble simply because she knew Mildred was worried about a threatening note and something she’d seen.
“I was here because I was worried about Mildred. She’d told Cherry Hayes that she’d followed Rebecca Adrian to the Peabody Hotel the afternoon she was killed. Mildred delivered this comeback that she had thought up long after Rebecca had left Aunt Pat’s. But she apparently saw somebody when she was leaving—somebody who shouldn’t have been there. She was very concerned about it. I guess it was someone she knew.”
Detective Bryce nodded encouragingly while his sergeant jotted down notes.
“Then Cherry said that Mildred had gotten a threatening letter. She must have been worried sick or scared to death or both. I thought it might be a good idea to run by and check on her . . . and persuade her to go to the police. She wasn’t at home, so I came by the shop. And, well, you know the rest.”
“Did Cherry have any idea who Mildred Cameron had seen that afternoon?”
“She didn’t seem to. She was worried for Mildred’s safety and also worried about her own, I think.”
Bryce looked thoughtfully at Lulu without saying anything. This kind of tactic drove Lulu up the wall because she didn’t ordinarily have awkward pauses in her conversations. If there was an awkward pause, she always filled it with more conversation. She had a feeling Bryce knew this and was waiting for her to prattle on again.
“I was going to get Mildred to call you,” she said. “I can’t believe what’s happened to her. The last time I saw her, she was really excited about starting a new manuscript. It was going to be a mystery, and she was planning on doing a bunch of research. I guess she didn’t realize the importance of what she’d seen at the Peabody until she started poking around and somebody didn’t like it.”
“Did you have any idea who might have knocked you out? Their size or gender? Did you smell aftershave or perfume?”
Lulu shook her head sadly. “No. I wish I had. The first I knew that anyone was behind me was when they grabbed me and pushed me to the floor and bopped me on the head. I wish to goodness I knew more than that. And I didn’t even pay attention to the cars that were parked out in the street.”
“What time was it when you entered the store?”
Lulu had to think. “Well, let’s see. When I left,
it was probably seven thirty. The lights were out in the bookstore, so I stopped by Mildred’s house first, figuring that she’d closed the shop for the night and gone home. I didn’t spend too long at her house, since she wasn’t there. It was probably eight o’clock when I went back to the bookstore. It was pretty dark by then.” Lulu looked grim. “I guess the murderer was still in the bookstore right after killing Mildred. That’s why you want to know what time it was.”
Detective Bryce’s face was inscrutable. “The medical examiner will narrow down the time of death, too. But, yes, we can assume that you arrived on the scene right after Miss Cameron was murdered. You clearly surprised the killer by your appearance there.”
Lulu frowned. “What I don’t understand . . . well, I don’t understand much about any of this. But one thing I really don’t understand is why the store was dark when I drove by. Was the killer in with her at seven thirty? Or earlier? She meant to come home earlier than she did, I’m sure of it.”
Detective Bryce asked, “What makes you so sure, Mrs. Taylor? Did you talk with her about her intentions today?”
“No. But her chicken didn’t have enough sauce in the Crock-Pot.”
Detective Bryce’s sandy eyebrows shot up questioningly.
“When I went to her house, I found her door was unlocked. So I went inside,” said Lulu. She felt a little bit like Goldilocks. “I walked in the kitchen because there was kind of a funny smell. I know Mildred wasn’t a great cook—not by any stretch of the imagination—but she was a real penny-pincher. She would never have deliberately ruined two chicken breasts by drying them out beyond recognition. There wasn’t enough sauce in the Crock-Pot,” repeated Lulu. “She meant to come back earlier in the evening to eat her supper.”
Detective Bryce looked like he wasn’t all that convinced about the validity of Crock-Pot sauce as evidence of intent. But he nodded politely.
“Why would the murderer still have been at her shop when I got there? Why wouldn’t he have left the scene right away?
“That’s one of the things we’ll be looking at,” said Detective Bryce in a soothing tone.
Lulu abruptly felt completely wiped out. Detective Bryce said quickly, “I think that’s enough for tonight, Mrs. Taylor. Why don’t you go home and try to sleep? It’s getting late.”
Lulu looked at her watch. Sure enough, it was eleven o’clock. “Will you talk to Cherry tonight?” she asked.
“No, I don’t think so. We’ll probably leave that until tomorrow. You really should turn in, Mrs. Taylor.”
“Oh, I know. And I will.” Right after I break the news to Cherry, thought Lulu. She shouldn’t have to hear about her friend’s death from the police first thing tomorrow morning.
When Lulu saw Cherry’s porch lights on, she pulled into the driveway. But she would have pulled in, regardless. Johnny was probably out amusing himself, and it wasn’t even midnight yet.
Lulu rang the doorbell, and she saw the curtain in the front room rustle as a suspicious-looking Cherry peered out the window. Her eyes widened as she saw Lulu, and she hurried to unlock the door. Lulu also heard her slide a bolt out. That didn’t bode well for Cherry’s marriage if she was bolting Johnny out.
Cherry pulled the door open and gaped at Lulu. Lulu returned the gape at the sight of Cherry’s red hair completely engulfed by soft pink rollers. Cherry also had some green oatmeal beauty treatment on her face. Cherry grinned at Lulu’s expression. “You know, it’s a lot of work to look this beautiful.” Then she turned serious. “But tell me, honey, what are you doing out here this time of night? And all by your lonesome?”
Lulu patted Cherry’s arm. “These late-night visits by friends are starting to become a regular occurrence, aren’t they? Can I trouble you for some water? Then we’ll sit down, and I’ll tell you the story.”
The ice water turned into vodka tonic by the time Lulu had finished her story. Cherry had shaken her head and oh-noed through the entire story. When Lulu got to the part where she’d been knocked out, Cherry got up to hug her. And her hot pink-tipped fingers gripped the arms of her chair when Lulu described finding Mildred.
Lulu was positive that Cherry’s face would have been pasty pale if it hadn’t been caked with green goo. And that’s when Cherry poured them both a vodka tonic.
Cherry shot hers down quickly and poured more. “I think,” she stated, “that it’s all because of that damned book Mildred was writing.”
Lulu nodded.
“There she was, telling everybody she was going to write a mystery. She was poking her nose in where she shouldn’t have. She started asking questions for research and made somebody worried. It was a bad idea,” said Cherry, taking another big swig from her drink. “A real bad idea.”
Lulu said, “Is there anything else you remember that she said to you? I know she told you she’d followed Rebecca to the Peabody to deliver her comeback. And that Mildred had seen somebody there she hadn’t expected to. And she got a threatening letter that she burned. Was there anything else?”
Cherry slammed down some more vodka tonic, which Lulu was sorry to see. She didn’t think it was going to help with Cherry’s cognitive process at all.
But apparently Cherry needed the booze for other reasons. “Actually,” said Cherry after she discretely burped into a napkin, “there was. She didn’t exactly mention anyone by name. I told you the truth about that. But she hinted really strong about who she had seen.”
Lulu felt more apprehensive than she had the whole rest of the evening. And, considering the night she’d had, that was really saying something.
“She said something about how she was surprised she wasn’t waiting tables.” Cherry sighed unhappily as Lulu winced. “And then she said she thought someone else would want to stay away from the Peabody, since they’d been miserable there the day before.”
“Sara and Flo,” said Lulu unhappily. She took a sip from her drink and was surprised to find she’d already drained it. Wordlessly, Cherry refilled it with vodka and tonic.
Cherry also refilled her own glass. Her hand was a lot more unsteady this time, though. “If it makes you feel better, Lulu,” said Cherry, “Mildred wasn’t making a helluva lot of sense. I think she was making some things up. She made it into this big caper. Her whole life had been boring, and now something exciting was finally happening to her.”
Lulu tried to absorb this thought as the alcohol buzzed through her system. “Mildred was a drama seeker?” This didn’t seem to jive with the image Lulu had of a middle-aged bookseller with a penchant for Victorian frills.
Cherry nodded solemnly. “She was talking like she was a few bushels short of a full load. Stuff about pink being tacky and remember to put in something about mixed drinks, and then all about pigs: ‘I’ll call a pig a pig. It’s fitting. Maybe pigs like to visit each other.’ Something like that. I was just ill over Flo and Sara. But like I say, I felt like she was also getting carried away.”
Lulu decided she’d heard quite enough for the night. Cherry obviously didn’t have any more information and Lulu was sick at heart over the information she did share. “It’s time for me to be heading home, Cherry.” She hiccupped loudly and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Goodness gracious. And I’ll need a ride back. I’m sorry, Cherry.”
Cherry said, “No apology needed, Lulu. You’ve had a gosh-awful night. Beaned on the head, had a nasty shock—or two or three—and now you’re tired and the vodka tonics have sunk in. I totally get it. But you know, I can’t drive, either. We could walk.” Then she changed her mind. “No, we couldn’t. Too far. Okay, I’m calling Ben. You’re never too old to have to parent your child.” Which, thought Lulu, would have made perfect sense except that Lulu was the parent and Ben was the child. Good thing that Cherry wasn’t driving the car.
Cherry called Ben and Sara’s house. The phone must have rung a lot because it was a while before anyone picked up. Cherry said, “Ben? Hi there. It’s Cherry. I’m sorry to call you so late. No, no, everythi
ng is fine, nothing to worry about. It’s just that your mama and I drank some, and we’re not fit to drive your mama home.” She listened for a minute. “Okay, we’ll see you then.”
Cherry rung off and laughed. “I don’t think Ben ever thought he’d get a phone call like that. Hoo-boy!”
“You didn’t want to tell him about everything else?”
Cherry shook her head. “Too much to process at one o’clock in the morning. Hard enough to absorb the fact his mama is out drinking in the middle of the night.”
Chapter 12
The next morning, Lulu was so exhausted by her previous day’s adventures that she didn’t respond to her alarm. The sun’s ascent infused her bedroom with a bright light that she slept right through. And the rapping at her front door and the insistent ringing of the doorbell didn’t even cause her to roll over.
Only the feel of a rough, wet tongue against her face, snuffling in her ear, and a yippy bark brought her to a startled awareness. “What the hell?” she croaked as she blearily gazed into the small, determined face of Babette and the more distant faces of Ben and Sara.
“Sorry, Mother. I used my key since you didn’t answer the door. Babette is just so excited to see you.”
Lulu shoved her pillows in a ball and leaned against them as she sat up. “Ben? Sara? Isn’t it awfully early to make social calls? Or break into folks’ houses?” Or foist yappy rodents on unsuspecting sleepers?
“Well, after Cherry filled us in on everything that happened to you yesterday, we thought it best to make sure you were doing okay.”