Proof of Murder

by Lauren Elliott

  “If you want to work back here,” Addie said, her gaze surveying the boxes, “sorting through these, maybe you can select the books you think we can sell and just jot down the titles and publishing information. Then when you take them up front to shelve, give me your list and I’ll enter them into the inventory records on the computer.” Addie smiled when she glanced over at Paige, whose nose was already stuck in a box. “If we work together, it might not take too long to get through all these.”

  “What do I do with books I don’t think we can sell? Do you want me to put them aside for you to look at?”

  “Naw, you know as well as I do what our customers like. I trust your judgment. Just start another box for them. We can donate them to the school annual book drive or something.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Paige didn’t waste any time delving into the first box as Addie headed to the front of the shop to look after business. For the next few hours her plan clicked along like a well-oiled machine, and by five o’clock closing Addie and Paige high-fived each other when the last customer left for the day and Paige had shelved the last of the new books. Addie locked the door behind her assistant, flipped the door sign to CLOSED, leaned her back against the warm, sun-kissed glass door, and gazed longingly at the coffeemaker.

  She wondered if she could reach it, after no sleep last night. The prospect of placing one foot in front of the other long enough to make fresh coffee and then walk to the back room was daunting, but she was resilient and motivated. She had to prove to Marc that his evidence against her was completely wrong and to find equally as strong evidence proving her innocence. What’s a few more hours without sleep?

  She shook out her arms and hands to wake herself up, launched herself off the door, made herself a cup of coffee, and then went to the back room. She tugged the covering from her blackboard mounted on the wall. “Hello, old friend, where do we start today?” she said, staring at the blank surface of the board.

  “Problem: police evidence points to me. Solution: figure out who else it points to.” She picked up a piece of chalk and scribbled the word Suspects. Then she wrote Kalea under it. As much as she didn’t want to believe it—her cousin was at the top of her list because she appeared to have left town without a word and there was the whole thing about the gloves and emptying her purse onto the table—Addie stabbed the chalk, marking an exclamation point after Kalea’s name.

  Then she added Blake. After all, she had witnessed the argument between Charlotte and him and could see that there was no love lost between them. There was also Charlotte’s assistant, slimy Robert Peters, who hadn’t kept his feelings about his overly demanding employer private.

  Addie examined the names she’d written and then drew a line from Kalea to Garrett Edwards, Blake’s nephew. Kalea had canceled their dinner to meet up with him, so as far as Addie knew he was the last person her cousin was in contact with before she disappeared. Is he part of the theft? He probably knew about the books, and he had access to the house. She wasn’t sure about him but decided that, for now, his name would stay. She tapped the chalk on her hand.

  Think, Addie, who else knew about the books or had access to the library? Bingo! She almost shouted as she jotted down Philip Atkinson. He was at Hill Road House and had been in her store and even insinuated that he knew the missing books had been swapped for reproductions.

  “Okay, now I have a starting point, but what do I know?” She paced in front of the board, occasionally glancing sideways, shaking her head, and pacing some more. “Think, Addie, what would Dad say right now?”

  She jumped at a sharp knock on the back door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Marc.”

  She flung the door open. “Are you here to arrest me again?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then what?” She glanced over his shoulder at his empty cruiser parked in her Mini’s spot. “You’re alone? No shadow tonight?”

  “Can I come in, please?”

  “It depends. Is this business or pleasure?”

  “I just wanted to return this.” He produced her laptop from behind his back.

  “And did you find everything you needed? Did it prove to you that I was researching Wednesday night and couldn’t have been at Hill Road House?”

  “Unfortunately, it’s just as Ryley said: It’s a laptop, and you could have been anywhere when you logged in and did a search. We can’t pinpoint an exact location.”

  “Then what you’re saying is that I still don’t have an alibi?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Hurt and irritation welled up in her. She snatched her computer from his hands and started to pull the door closed. His hand pulled back against it.

  “Addie, it might be time to think about finding a good lawyer because with the evidence we have against you, it won’t take the DA too long to reinstate that arrest order.” Addie blinked, fighting back the tears burning behind her eyes. “I’m sorry, but as a friend, I thought I should give you a heads-up—”

  “As a friend? You arrested me for theft and possible murder. Is that someone I could really have as a friend?”

  The muscles in Marc’s jaw tightened. “You’re right, but personal feelings aside, I hope you understand that I’m just doing my job and have to follow where the evidence leads.”

  “Then if you’re not here to arrest me right now, you’ll excuse me so I can go back to proving all that evidence you think you have against me actually leads to the real thief—and if I’m not mistaken, killer, too.”

  “Not so fast.” Marc wedged his boot in the crack of the door and stepped inside. He scanned the board. “Addie, how many times—”

  “Don’t say it. You lost the right to tell me not to get involved when you arrested me and made me your prime suspect. What do you expect?” She poked him in the chest, pushing him back toward the door. “That I’m just going to sit back and let it all come out in the wash?”

  “I’d hoped that you’d see the seriousness of this and let it all play out according to the official investigation.” He removed her finger from his sternum. “You have to stay out of this, more than ever before, because you are the suspect right now.”

  “Then I have nothing to lose, and it makes it more imperative that I do a little digging on my own.”

  “No, Addie. I can charge you with interfering in a police investigation.”

  “How is me trying to prove my innocence interference? Really, Marc, are you afraid I might show up that girlfriend of yours? Is that the real issue here?” She bit back a laugh as his face reddened. “Tell me why Ryley is so bent on proving me guilty that neither of you can see that I’ve been set up.”

  “That’s not what’s happening. It’s that so far all the evidence points to you, and unless something else comes to light . . .” He pushed his cap back, revealing a damp brow glistening under the overhead lighting. “It’s like always. You just don’t know when to back down and leave well enough alone, allowing the police to do their job.”

  “Yeah,” she huffed, “I can see firsthand how well you’re doing your job. I think you should go now.” She opened the door and rested her hand on the doorframe. “Unless you are going to arrest me for interference in your investigation, I want you to leave.”

  “Addie, I—”

  “Now!”

  She slammed the door behind him and swallowed back a sob. If he thought her capable of what he was accusing her of, then there would be no going back for them. Maybe one day they could become friends again, but that wouldn’t be today.

  She stared at the board. This wasn’t only about proving her innocence now. It was personal. Someone had gone to a lot of work to set her up as the suspect, and she needed to know what the next move was, so she could call checkmate and stop being a pawn in his or her game. One person who appeared to be bent on proving her guilt and ruining her good name came to mind. She made her way to the board, picked up the chalk, and scribbled Ryley above her
cousin’s name.

  A knock on the door sent her sleep-deprived nerves skittering. She whipped the chalk at the door. “Marc, this is harassment!” She flung the door open. “Simon?”

  “I take it that harassment greeting was meant for none other than the chief of police, whom I saw pulling out of the alley?”

  “You’d be right. Come in.”

  “Do I dare ask what happened?” He glanced around the back room, his gaze resting on the blackboard. “I take it he didn’t like seeing his girlfriend’s name at the top of your list of suspects?”

  “I added that after he left.”

  “By the glassy look in your eyes, I’d say it’s time to get you home. You need food and sleep.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

  “I can’t right now. Marc told me to get a lawyer, and that the DA would probably be reissuing that arrest warrant because I don’t have a concrete alibi.”

  “Addie, it’s late, and you’ve had no sleep. Leave this. You can work on it tomorrow.”

  “But Simon . . .”

  “No buts.” He placed a finger over her lips. “You can’t even stand up right now you’re so exhausted. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

  “Good, because I don’t have my car,” she said with a saucy wink.

  “I saw that, so it’s a good thing I dropped by or you’d be hoofing it up that hill. But one look at you right now and I have a feeling we would find you sleeping at the end of the alley tomorrow morning.” He returned her sauciness with a playful swat as she fetched her handbag.

  * * *

  Simon steered her to the sofa in her living room. “Now sit. Stay. And no more about suspects and being set up and because you don’t have an alibi, you’re going to jail.”

  “But—”

  “I said, no buts. I heard it all the way here from your shop. You’re so tired you’re not even making sense. Your mind is reeling in every direction.” His lips brushed across hers in a whispered kiss. “Now relax and forget about it all. You can’t solve it when you’re in this state. I’m going to make you some tea and toast and then you’re going to bed. Doctor’s orders.”

  Addie only had the strength to kick off her shoes and nestle into the sofa. Her heavy eyelids fluttered, and she fought to keep her eyes open enough to watch the simple, homey actions of Simon shoving the clutter of books on her eighteenth-century Marquetry coffee table aside to slide a small tray in front of her.

  “Smells amazing.” Addie forced those words over the cotton-ball feeling in her mouth.

  “You still have this?” He sat beside her and picked up a blue wristwatch off the table.

  “Yeah, of course I do. You gave it to me. You said I had to become more aware of my health.” She propped herself up on one elbow and reached for a cup of tea from the tray. “I tell you, dating a doctor comes with a lot of responsibilities. Like wristwatch monitoring and tracking what I eat,” she said, inhaling the earthy-musky camomile scent.

  “Then why haven’t I seen you wear it lately?”

  “I do. Not during the day, though. I got tired of it beeping at me, telling me when to move and all that. I only wear it at night now.”

  “Do you?” He studied the device in his hand, his brows furrowing. “Were you wearing it Wednesday night when you went to bed?”

  “I never forget it. It helps me see how deeply I’ve slept. Why?”

  “Because this tracks your sleep, hours, quality of your sleep, and movements based on your heart rate.”

  “I know. You showed me all that when you set it up for me.”

  His piercing blue eyes focused on her.

  “What?”

  “If you were wearing this Wednesday night, the data stored by it will prove you were home sleeping and not out committing a burglary.”

  Chapter 17

  This was the second time in as many days that Marc had treated her like a child, sending her from the room for a time-out. Addie leaned forward on her elbows and rubbed her palms together. She and Simon had arrived at the police station at precisely 7 a.m., the start of Marc’s shift. He had cordially greeted them both, and he and his sidekick, Ryley, listened as Simon explained about Addie’s fitness watch and showed them the data stored in the app on her phone. That was when Marc dismissed her to the waiting room—nearly two hours ago.

  Her gaze bore into the closed door. It was times like this she wished she had x-ray vision or could be a fly on the wall. She’d have given anything to know what they could still possibly be debating. Simon was relatively an expert on the health app data they’d presented. It made her wonder if it was Marc or Ryley questioning his explanation. Surely they could see by now she had an airtight alibi. It was all there, logged into her phone. She rose to her feet and started pacing.

  Marc’s office door opened, and Simon stepped out.

  “Simon, finally. What’s going on? Why is this taking so long?”

  Marc and Ryley, hot on Simon’s heels, exited down the back staircase without even a glance in her direction.

  “Simon, what’s happening? Am I free of the charges?”

  His drawn face said it all even before he spoke, she knew the answer. “No, but I’m pretty sure you will be soon. Hang in there awhile longer.”

  “What do you mean? Can’t they see I couldn’t have been the one that broke into the library? We have proof now.”

  He brushed his lips across her hot cheek. “I think you were right to add Ryley’s name to your suspect list,” he whispered in her ear.

  Her eyes widened. He rested his forehead against hers, drawing her closer. “For some reason, she’s trying to find a loophole in the data program and refuses to believe you are innocent. It didn’t matter what I said. She won’t be convinced. I’d say something else is driving this, but I don’t know what.”

  “So now what?”

  “She wanted to wait to do any follow-up on this until after the weekend because the DA doesn’t generally work Saturdays, but I made Marc call him and run this new development past him.”

  “And?”

  “And he’s agreed to meet with us at his house in Salem.”

  “You’re going, too?”

  “Yeah, she said a couple of things that made me wonder how much she could be trusted to present all the facts about this program and its capabilities. I want to be there just in case she tries to brush any of it off. Then it will be completely the DA’s call if he wants to pursue charges against you or drop them, and he won’t be influenced by a partial report.”

  “I thought she was a professional. Wouldn’t she want to get to the bottom of this?”

  “You’d think, but as I said, I get the feeling that there’s something else going on here, but I have to go. They’re waiting.” He squeezed her arms and gave her a light kiss. “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

  Addie plopped onto one of the waiting room chairs. She couldn’t believe it. When she’d added Ryley’s name to her suspect list, she had done it out of pure spite and anger but never really had any intention of following through with an investigation on her. Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe her gut instincts knew more than her head, and she better think twice about dismissing the agent’s actions so quickly.

  Addie gathered up her bag and headed out the door. Since Simon had driven them to the station first thing this morning, Addie was on foot as she made her way over the two blocks to her shop. But she didn’t mind. It was a beautiful summer morning, and the warm breeze off the harbor gave her just the lift her spirits needed as she mentally processed all the information rattling around in her head. There were too many questions and not enough answers. She was in the middle of writing a mental to-do list when Martha came out of the bakery, brandishing her famous broom.

  “Morning, Addie.” She swept the sidewalk in front of the bakery door. “It looks like it’s going to be a quiet Saturday down here.”

  Addie blinked. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts, she hadn’t even noticed, but Martha was right. It
was nearly ten, and there were still plenty of parking spots. “It’s like a ghost town this morning. What’s going on?”

  Martha stopped her sweeping and leaned both hands on the end of the broom handle. “I hear half the town is at that yard sale today. I guess there’s not a parking spot for over six blocks around that house.”

  Addie glanced up the deserted road. She had completely forgotten that this weekend was the public sale.

  “Mildred was furious. She was late opening the Emporium on Main Street this morning because she couldn’t even get out of her driveway.” Martha resumed her sweeping with renewed vigor.

  Addie bolted past her shop door and burst through the door of SerenaTEA. “Serena!”

  A red head popped out of the back room.

  “What are you doing today?”

  “Not too much by the look of it. Why?” Serena dried her hands on a towel as she came out of the back.

  “Do you want to play hooky with me and go to the Hill Road House yard sale?”

  “Not really. I have no intention of going anywhere near that place and don’t think you should be either, considering.”

  Addie waved off her friend’s look of concern. “Not to worry. The charges are going to be dropped. At least I hope they are.”

  “I didn’t mean because of that. I meant because of her.”

  “Who, her?” Addie’s brows bumped together.

  “Kathleen Gallagher.”

  “Serena, don’t be silly. There are no ghosts in that house.”

  “Then how did someone get into the library, kill that woman, and then steal those books?” She crossed her arms. “Answer me that one, Miss Smarty-Pants.”

  “That’s why we have to go there today. I need to talk to Blake. He told me other things have disappeared from there, too, over the last months, and I want to check a couple of things out.”

  “Well, you can count me out. I won’t set foot in that creepy old house.”

  “But that’s the beauty of the yard sale. You won’t have to go in the house. Come on, please.” She gave Serena some puppy-dog eyes and even clasped her hands together in supplication.