A Page Marked for Murder

by Lauren Elliott

  Addie’s eyes narrowed as she studied the board further. She tried to hide her uneasiness as they reviewed the clues, but Paige was right. According to everything on here, Martha, without an alibi, was the only one that could have killed Brett, and the whole town knew by now that she had more than one motive.

  “I told you I was no good at this. I haven’t been able to come up with one single new theory to add. Should I call Serena and ask her to come? She’s good as your second set of eyes.”

  “It’s not that. I think we’re stuck on your mother as the guilty party because we still don’t know this important piece of information.” She circled means. “Yes, we know the result. Brett is dead, but we don’t know what killed him, and that would give us our lead to the rest of it. The murder weapon can tell so much about a case. If only Simon could come up with something, anything that might give us a hint.”

  The bells at the door jingled. “I don’t believe my ears. Has someone really braved the detour to come in?” Paige poked her head around the corner. “Oh, it’s Mrs. Jamison. She ordered a couple of books last week. They’re at the front. I’ll go.”

  Addie stood back and read over what she had written, and then clapped her hands with excitement. “Duh. That’s it! Martha aside, I’ve only been focusing on these three other suspects”—she tapped her finger on Ken, Jared, and Amber—“and the likelihood that one of them killed him for the book.”

  Addie discovered after her father—an ex-NYPD detective turned antiquities reclamation specialist for an insurance company—was killed, that if she worked through a problem verbally, it was like he was working through it with her. Generally, between the two of them, they came up with the next steps or the solution. She glanced up and then back at the board. “Okay, Dad, if you’re listening, I really need help with this one.”

  She focused on the names she had scrawled and tried to remember the theory she and Serena had discussed previously. “If any of them were guilty, they would have left town after the murder, right?” She studied the board. “Okay, I started out thinking the book and murder weren’t related, but then had second thoughts about that and started working on the premise that they were. What if my first instincts were right, and they’re not related? Is that what you’re trying to tell me, Dad, and why I can’t figure it out? That his murder has nothing to do with the book at all?”

  She reread the notes she had scribbled on the side of the board. “If I look at taking the most common reasons why a murder is committed into consideration, then . . . then . . . ?”

  Monetary

  Passion

  Revenge

  Personal Vendetta

  Self-defense and in-defense

  Anger

  Hatred

  Jealousy

  She dropped the chalk on the ledge of the board and sat down at her desk. “It means the same as it did before. It either comes back to Martha and the custody issue or I have a larger pool of suspects that I haven’t even considered and no clue as to where to start.” Because, as far as she could figure out by reading over all her notes, it well could have been someone in town for the festival. Perhaps Brett’s car broke down that night, and a stranger gave him a lift, robbed and killed him, and just happened to dump the body behind the bakery, and none of it was connected to anyone or anything in Greyborne Harbor, but completely random.

  “Arg!” she cried, and scrubbed her hands over her face. “But then where is the book?” Her head popped up. “Unless of course that’s what Mister X, the random guy, stole from him.” She shook her head. “Then we’d never find him or it unless it showed up on the black market.” She closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath trying to clear her erratic thoughts.

  Arms wrapped around Addie from behind. A familiar musky-amber fragrance wafted over her, and soft lips nuzzled into the crook of her neck. “Mmm.” She tilted her head back, her eyes still closed. “I sure hope this is my knight in shining armor riding in on his white steed to save the damsel in distress.”

  “Sorry, he was busy saving a damsel who needed saving. You never have, so he sent a very tired doctor in a black pickup truck in his place. I hope that’s all right for milady,” he whispered, and nibbled her earlobe.

  “It’s more than all right.” Her lips sought out his. “I’ve missed you.”

  “And I you.” He stood upright, swept his hand across his midsection, and bowed low from the waist. “This humble servant is at her ladyship’s service. Your wish is my command.”

  “How very bold and brave of you, dear Knight of the Black Truck Order, and since you’re offering, I want your head.”

  Simon’s jaw tensed. “Very well, milady. Would you like it on or off my body?”

  Addie let out a snort when she tried to stifle a giggle, but his words and deadpan expression produced laughter from both of them as he swept her into his arms and kissed her. It felt good to laugh with him after the events of the past few days, and in that moment, Addie knew why she felt the way she did about Simon. He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for her.

  He rested his forehead on hers and sighed heavily.

  “What’s wrong?” She pulled back and glanced up at him.

  “I hear that you’ve added to your résumé.”

  “What on earth are you blabbering on about?”

  “Aside from rare book researcher, appraiser, and bookseller, you’ve now taken up midwifery?”

  “Be serious.”

  “Like I was being serious before?” His eyes searched hers. “Unless, of course . . . you were and really do desire my head?” He gave her a wry smile.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Your head is perfect exactly where it is. It’s your brilliant brain I’m after.”

  “What’s with you and my brain lately? You know, I am starting to worry about that whole zombie—”

  “Stop it,” she said with a chuckle. “In all seriousness, how could I be a midwife? If you’re referring to the birth of your new niece, then please know the facts, Doctor. I did nothing except call the ambulance and Pete to meet Carolyn at the hospital. It was Martha who did all the work. I wasn’t even in the room when the baby arrived.”

  “Whatever your contributions were to the events of this morning, my sister and Pete have seen fit to give you second billing. I’ve just come from visiting mother and baby Marta Addison Coleman.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Pete wouldn’t agree to Martha as a first name.” Addie’s brow rose questioningly. “It seems he has an aunt named Martha, who is as tetchy as our Martha can be. So, they compromised on Marta, but Carolyn put her foot down on the middle name because she said without you, things might not have gone as well as they did. There’s also something about you being the little one’s godmother.”

  “Wow,” Addie said, “I’m a namesake and a godmother just because I know how to use a phone?” She grinned until her face hurt. “This is an amazing day, isn’t it?”

  “If it’s so amazing, why were you looking so glum when I snuck up behind you?”

  “Oh, it’s all this.” She waved at the blackboard. “I’ve hit a major roadblock and have no idea where to look.”

  “Okay, we’ve been at a standstill before.” Simon perched one hip on the desk. “Tell me where you’re at, and we’ll see if I can offer a new perspective.”

  Addie ran through the information she had gathered about everyone’s whereabouts Saturday night and pointed out the fact that no one except Martha had the opportunity to kill Brett within the window of time of death. She stressed her disbelief that Martha could have lured him into the bakery at that time of the night to kill him. “So, you see how none of these other puzzle pieces fit now?”

  “Yeah,” he said, rereading her notes. “This whole thing is like two puzzle boxes that have been mixed together, and the job is to figure out which pieces match which picture.”

  “Exactly! I’ve only been focusing on the fact that the murder had something to do with the book. But no
w I’m thinking that they are two separate crimes, with Brett, for some unknown reason, being the link between both the theft and his murder.” She gazed at the board.

  “If, in fact, Brett was the one who stole the book, which is something that hasn’t been proven yet. It’s only a suspicion you have.”

  “You’re right. No proof, no evidence. Only suspicion based on conjecture.”

  Simon moved to the board and pointed to Amber, Ken, and Jared. “Even though all these people have a motive, their alibis, like you pointed out, show they didn’t have the opportunity. The fact that all of them are still in town and not on the run tells us to exclude them.”

  “Which means the killer isn’t on the list. The reason I was looking . . . what did you call it? Glum? Yeah, glum, is when you came in I realized there are just too many other people who could have done it for another reason—” She purposely left off telling him her runaway theory of Mister X, chalking that one up to the rambling mind of a crazy woman, or at least that’s what she feared Simon would think at this point.

  “This brings us right back to Martha,” he said, “and the only other name on the list.”

  “Exactly! Now you see where I’m at.”

  “And if we believe there was no way Martha did this, then we have to figure out who else would want Brett dead,” Simon said, scanning her notes. “There has to be someone we haven’t suspected yet, or someone whose alibi is less than airtight.”

  “And that someone obviously wanted to make it look like Martha was the killer because they went to a lot of trouble to stage the body behind the bakery. But who haven’t we thought about? Who would hold a grudge like that against Martha?”

  “Given her personality, it could be half the town, but let’s look at it like all the major players are pieces on a chessboard. We just have to figure out where to place each one.”

  “Okay, so these three”—she underlined Amber, Ken, and Jared—“have alibis, which place each of them nowhere around Brett at the time of death, leaving ‘Martha’ the only other name on the board as the probable killer.” She glanced sideways at Simon. “So, we’re no further ahead.”

  “You’re right. Martha’s piece is the only player on the board still standing.”

  “Come on, there’s one person who might be able to shed some light on this mess.” She grabbed her handbag and jacket and stood waiting for him in the doorway. “Well, don’t look so leery. Have I ever taken you on a wild goose chase before?”

  Simon rolled his eyes. “Normally, I would follow you anywhere, but I’m exhausted. I’ve been in the lab day and night, trying to figure out what the murder weapon is, and this morning I had to do my weekly check at the homeless shelter—”

  “You were at the shelter this morning?”

  “Yes, it’s part of their town licensing requirements. A doctor has to check on the residents once a week for communicable diseases and make sure there’s no—”

  “Did you see Bill?”

  “He wasn’t there. Reggie Gardner, the shelter manager, told me he hasn’t been back since Saturday night. When he didn’t show up on Sunday, they held his bed another night, but then when he didn’t come back again, they had to give it to someone else. Why?”

  “Because I have a gut feeling he knows more than he’s saying about hearing another person on the beach that night. He’s the one person who can give us another name to add to this board or prove that one of the three main suspects’ alibis isn’t airtight.”

  “What makes you so sure he knows something?”

  “Because the last time I spoke to him, he told me there was someone on the beach that night besides him and Brett.”

  “Did he say who it was? Did he or you tell Marc?”

  “I tried to convince him to go to Marc, but Bill was really scared. I’m thinking he knows who the other person was and appeared scared of that person. Even though he denies it, I think he knows who it was. Now you’re saying he hasn’t been back at the shelter since Saturday night.” Her gut churned. “Simon, we need to find him now. He could be in danger if he’s still . . .” She gripped the doorframe. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

  “If Bill withheld information important to the case, and he hasn’t come forward with it, then you have to be the one to tell Marc about this. He’s the one who can find Bill and get to the bottom of it. That’s his job, not yours.”

  “You’re right. It’s quiet now. Maybe I should.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Not maybe but definitely.” His gaze locked on hers. “Promise?”

  “Yes, can you come with me? You know how he gets whenever I tell him anything about a case.”

  “I’d love to, but I have to get back to the hospital and do rounds. I missed them this morning because of the shelter visit and then Carolyn’s baby. Plus, Gloria’s last test results are back, and I’m thinking she can be discharged soon, perhaps even later today.”

  Addie’s chest tightened, and she glanced down at the straw basket under the desk. “That’s wonderful,” she said, forcing the words past the cotton balls forming in her mouth. “I’m sure Gloria is excited about the prospect of life getting back to normal.”

  “Not normal for a little while yet. She’ll still have physiotherapy appointments, but at least she can convalesce in the comfort of her home. Also, I’m fairly certain that having Pippi to look after will help with the rehabilitation process, too.”

  Addie’s handbag slipped from her hand. Simon studied her. “Oh no, you’ve become attached to Pippi, haven’t you.”

  Addie nodded and swiped at a tear threatening to leak from her eye.

  “I’m sorry to blurt that out,” Simon said. “I never thought in such a short time that you—”

  “I’ll be okay.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’ve gotten used to her, and it will be a change, but it’s the way it is, right?”

  “Maybe we can go to the animal shelter and look for the perfect dog for you.”

  Addie focused on the basket. “No, it’s fine. Pippi will be with her mommy again, where she belongs, and life will get back to normal for me.” Her words caught in her throat. “But since you’re going to see Gloria, could you ask her if she has any idea where Bill might make camp since he’s not at the shelter?”

  “Why would Gloria know that?”

  “Because they all grew up together. Maybe she knows of a favorite place he used to go when they were teenagers. Or”—she shrugged—“something else that might help me find him.”

  “Addie, please take this to Marc and let him and his officers do the footwork.”

  “I will, but Bill doesn’t deal well with the police, so if I could get to him first, perhaps I could convince him to go in and tell Marc everything he knows.”

  “Addie, you need to take everything Bill told you, including where he might be hiding, to Marc. I hate to say this, but aside from Martha, he’s the only other person on the board who doesn’t have an alibi for the time in question. Not to mention that he was on the scene when you arrived and discovered the body.”

  “Simon!” Her eyes widened. “This is Old Bill. He would never hurt a fly.”

  “What is it you told me your father used to say? Everyone is capable of committing a crime, even murder, given the right circumstances.” His eyes fixed on Addie’s. “Remember that, and go speak to Marc, now.”

  “All right, I’ll see if I can get past his watchdog and see what he says.”

  “That’s my girl. Chin up. I’m fairly certain you can slay this dragon yourself, milady.” His lips brushed hers. “I’ll text you after I speak to Gloria.”

  Simon strode to the front of the shop and said good-bye to Paige. The bells rang out his departure.

  Addie glanced down at Pippi, who was sitting by the door, tail excitedly sweeping the floor. “Need to go for a walk, girl?” The little dog yipped. “Good, let’s get you into your doggy coat to keep you nice and snug, and we’ll take a quick walk through the park
before we go see Marc. It’ll give me one last chance to look for Bill before I go and tattle on him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Addie peered over the edge of the last garbage can in the event area of the park. Like all the others before, among the normal candy bar wrappers and other unrecognizable refuse, there was a mixture of soda bottles and cans. Bill had apparently not been making his usual rounds to collect them.

  Her mind raced with a number of what-if scenarios, and none of them ended well. The first one was that the other person Bill saw on the beach had found him and silenced him. Second and least disturbing was that Bill was so afraid of this person he had gone into hiding. Then there was the scenario Simon presented, one she didn’t want to consider: Bill could be the murderer. Gloria had said he would do anything for Martha because he still loved her. Had he killed Brett because of the custody disagreement and how upset Martha was over it? Did he know Brett had stolen Paige’s book, and in trying to get it back, things escalated and ended badly? Was he on the run or in hiding?

  Any way she looked at it, Simon was right. This may have been Bill’s secret she had hoped to pull out of him without involving the police, but she couldn’t keep it any longer. It was time to share what Bill had told her and leave it up to Marc to figure out. She only hoped that it wasn’t too late.

  Addie cut through the library parking lot to Main Street and headed for the police station in the middle of the long block of municipal buildings. With Pippi tucked under her arm, she dashed up the stairs. When she reached the glass door, it flew open, and Amber raced out, nearly knocking Addie off her feet as she pushed past her.

  “Amber, wait! Can I talk to you a minute?”

  Amber clutched her coat tight around her neck and hustled down the steps. “I have nothing to say to anyone, especially a reporter.”

  “I’ m not a reporter. I’m a friend of Emma’s family.”

  Amber halted at the bottom and glared up at Addie. “Oh, you mean the family of that horrible woman accused of killing Brett?”