Tome to Tomb

by ACF Bookens

  I sighed. “Just when the truth might out, someone greedy has to silence her again.”

  The room grew quiet as all of us ate and pondered the news about the hospital. I got the sense we were all strategizing our own ways of thwarting this rule, and I was all for that . . . but I suddenly remembered Damien’s request to come be Santa for more nights and found that I couldn’t decide. So I put it to the group.

  “Sorry to interrupt everyone’s scheming,” I said with a smile that grew as I heard my friends’ knowing chuckles, “but maybe you can help me make a decision about something.” I told them about Damien’s Instagram following, about how he was becoming a very minor celebrity, and even about Daniel’s jokes that St. Marin’s could be the site of the newest reality show with people who become famous for no reason. Then I said, “So what do you think? More Santa or just weekend Santa?”

  Elle, always the business woman, said, “Well, do you think it will bring you more customers?”

  “I think that’s a given. From a business perspective, it makes sense. It’s more the morality of it that worries me,” I answered. “I don’t want to do what the reporters today were accusing me of doing.”

  Mart leaned back against my legs. “Anyone who knows you, Harvey, knows you aren’t going to use this tragedy to make a quick buck. I mean look at what you, Bear, and Henri are doing with the John Green event and hospice?”

  “Right, Harvey,” Cate added. “You are donating one hundred percent of your profits from book sales to hospice. No one can say you are out to take advantage of someone’s death. So what is the wise thing to do here?”

  I sighed. “Let Damien bring his groupies, I guess. But I’m drawing the line at elves in low-cut tops or short shorts.”

  Tiffany pouted. “Oh, darn, I was hoping just that outfit was a perk of my new job.”

  I lobbed a pillow at her and then dug my phone out of the cushions of the couch to text Damien. But I got distracted by the half-dozen messages a few dozen calls – mostly from Daniel and Tuck that I’d missed. I held up my phone so everyone could see my notifications, and, quickly, all my friends took out their silenced devices, too.

  Mart was quickest on the draw. “Holy crap,” she said as she stood. “There’s been another murder. This time, at the hospital itself.”

  “Tuck is already there. He’s asked all of us to stay here,” Lu said.

  “Is he worried it isn’t safe?” Elle asked.

  “He doesn’t say, but if he asked, it’s important,” Lu said as she put the phone to her ear.

  Just then, my phone vibrated in my hand. Mom. “Hi, Mom. You okay?”

  “I am. Are you? I just heard the news while I was watching TV. Another murder, Harvey. Are you at home?”

  “Yep, and everyone is here. Dad’s still in Baltimore, right? Come over. Now.” I tried to sound authoritative, but apparently, my attempt at bossiness hadn’t been necessary because I heard my mother’s keys immediately.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes. But be aware, I’m in my pjs.”

  “You’ll be in good company,” I said and hung up to dial Daniel.

  * * *

  When Mom arrived a few minutes later, we still knew almost nothing. Apparently, a body had been found in a nurses’ station, but beyond that we knew nothing about the victim or cause of death. I was puzzled about why Tuck had asked us to stay put, but like Lu said, if Tuck asked, it was because it was important.

  Mart put on the kettle for tea, which was just as well since the wine was long gone and we probably all needed to be pretty sober. Mom made herself at home and dug out a bag of double-stuffed Golden Oreos from the cabinet over the fridge, and we all settled in for a bit of TV distraction. The Umbrella Academy was just intense enough and complicated enough to require focus but not intense in any way that related to the hard things around us, so it was perfect. Plus, who doesn’t need an 80’s dance song montage even on the hardest of nights?

  We had just finished episode two when a knock at the door made most of us jump. I started to stand when Mart put a firm hand on my shoulder and said, “Seriously?!” as she walked – scooterless – and looked through the peephole. “It’s Tuck and Daniel.”

  She opened the door, and the men walked in, looking weary. Mom immediately returned to the kitchen and turned on the kettle again, as I made room for Daniel, and Lu motioned for Tuck to take her seat in my reading chair. “What’s going on?” Cate asked. “Why put us on lockdown?”

  Lu squeezed Tuck’s arm just as I saw the muscle in his jaw flex. Tuck would tell us what we needed to know as we needed to know it, and Cate’s question was irking him. But I would have asked if she hadn’t.

  “A nurse was murdered at the hospital tonight. We don’t know the exact circumstances, but it looks like the same MO as Bixley’s murder.” Tuck said.

  “Oh, that’s awful,” Henri said softly. Then, she met Tuck’s eyes. “I know this is selfish, but Bear had picked up someone’s shift—”

  “I saw him, and he’s just fine. Told me to tell you he’s okay and will see you in the morning.” Tuck looked clear and firm as he spoke, and I saw Henri’s face relax just a little.

  “That is awful, Tuck,” I said, “but still, I don’t understand what this has to do with all of us?”

  Daniel put his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “Harvey, it was the nurse who told you about Bixley.”

  I felt my stomach drop into my cast. “The woman who gave me information was murdered?”

  11

  The next morning, Daniel drove me to work – partially because it was below freezing and scooting through icy streets didn’t sound wise and partially because Tuck had asked him to. Apparently, the sheriff was a bit nervous that I might be the killer’s next target since, apparently, I might know too much. My argument that he, too, “knew too much,” if that was the case, fell on deaf ears, though, and I was not to be alone.

  I wasn’t thrilled about being a potential target, but I appreciated the company, especially that of a handsome mechanic who had great taste in women. “Thanks for the lift, Handsome,” I said as Daniel pulled up to the curb in front of the store. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

  “You are impossible, Harvey Beckett. Did you think I would drive you here only to let two dogs drag you and your scooter across the sidewalk?”

  I sighed. I really wasn’t very good at accepting help, but he was right. So I let him carry my tote bag and walk the dogs to the door as I carefully scooted across the cement and into the store. It was like coming home to walk in that door, especially today. The warmth hit me full-force, and behind it, I smelled cinnamon and some other spice, maybe cloves. “What is that smell, Rocky?”

  “Oh, it worked then?”

  “What worked?” Daniel asked as he came in after letting two hounds do a little preemptory business in the parking lot next door.

  “My decision to make mulled cider to sell for the rest of December. I thought it would be a fun addition to my menu, and I was hoping the smell would be homey, too.” She beamed and handed me a mug full of the best-smelling drink in the world.

  I blew on the liquid and watched steam spiral into the air before taking a small sip. It was heavenly. “Perfect, Rocky, and what a good business decision.”

  “Well,” she said, “If you were upping your Santa game, the café needed to raise her standards, too, right?”

  “Damien already told you?” Before collapsing into bed after the excitement of the nurse’s murder the previous night, I’d shot off a quick text to Damien saying he could come in Wednesday through Sunday to be Santa if he wanted. But given that I’d sent the text about eleven thirty last night, I was surprised that even in St. Marin’s the news had spread that fast.

  “Oh, I don’t talk to Damien,” she made a sort of wince, “but it’s all over his Insta.”

  She showed me his profile, and it had about ten posts all about his expanded hours as Santa at All Booked Up. It was my turn to wince. This wasn’t exac
tly the way I wanted to make this announcement. I pictured a child-friendly poster, a tasteful FB post, a little sleigh with “Santa is staying in St. Marin’s for some extra time with the children” Insta photo. But here was Damien, shirtless in one photo taken in a bathroom, with a hand-written sign that said, “See you Wednesday at All Booked Up.”

  I handed the phone back to Rocky. “Time to do a bit of damage control, I guess.”

  She showed the pictures to Daniel and said, “Oh, don’t worry. Marcus and Galen are on it.” She flipped through her phone and showed it to me again. “See?”

  Sure enough, there was a cute picture of an elf in a sleigh with a little sign that said the new hours to visit Santa, and Galen had added it to his story. So it was getting lots of likes. Marcus had done something similar for Facebook, and as I turned to go to my throne by the register, I saw him coming out of the back room with a stack of fliers. He held one up, and it featured the same elf in a sleigh with her hand over her eyes as if looking into the distance. The text said, “Santa is coming. Keep an eye out.” And then gave the hours of his time here. It was perfect.

  “When Tiffany comes in, I thought I’d ask her to run these to the shops in town,” Marcus said.

  “Great idea. It’ll get the word out, let Tiffany burn off some of that energy, and give me a chance to add a little caffeine to bolster this mulled cider in my belly.”

  Daniel leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I’ll see you at noon.” Then he turned to Marcus, “You remember our orders?”

  Marcus nodded. “She won’t be alone, Daniel. Not even for a minute.”

  I sighed and opened my laptop to look at yesterday’s numbers. Everyone was overreacting, I was sure of it, but Tuck’s orders.

  * * *

  I was just about as bored as bored can be in my throne when the front door slammed open and Javier Petra stormed toward me. I pressed myself against the back of my chair and held the leather-bound edition of One Hundred Years of Solitude that I’d special ordered for a customer to my chest as a shield. “Can I help you?” I asked.

  “I saw you,” Petra shouted as he loomed up and over me. “I saw you talking to Danita, and now she’s dead.”

  I stared at the shouting man and was grateful to see Marcus come up behind him and slip his shoulder between me and Petra. “Sir, what can I do for you?”

  “Her. That woman. She got Danita killed.” Petra’s voice boomed through the store, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Rocky pick up her phone. Good woman, I thought.

  “Sir, I don’t know what you are talking about. Who is Danita?” Petra didn’t look like he was leaving, so I figured it was probably best to keep him talking, try to de-escalate things a bit.

  “You know who she is. I saw the two of you talking in the ER the other day. Don’t play dumb.” He was scowling at me from over Marcus’s shoulder.

  Then it clicked. “Danita – was that the nurse’s name? I never knew her name. Thank you,” I said and meant it. I’d been feeling ashamed that I’d wanted to protect my own butt by not knowing her name, and it felt good to be able to call her something in my mind. Tuck hadn’t wanted to tell me, at least not until they informed the next of kin. “Danita,” I said again. “That’s pretty.”

  Petra’s face softened just a little, and I saw him let out a long slow breath. ”You didn’t know her name?”

  “No, sir.” I shrugged. “Bixley died here in my store.” I imagined he knew this, but it felt like it might be helpful context just in case. “So when I heard you upset about him, I got nosy and asked questions. The nurse, Danita, was hesitant to tell me anything, but I pressed.”

  “You’d heard the rumors?” Petra said.

  “I had. And well . . .” I sighed. “I’m sorry. It was none of my business.”

  Tuck barreled through the door at just that moment, and I met his gaze and gave him a slow nod to let him know we were okay. Then, I said, to be sure, “We’re okay, Tuck. Mr. Petra and I – can I call you Mr. Petra? – are just talking.”

  “Javier. Please call me Javier.” He let out a long slow breath from his nose, and I saw more of the tension slide from his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. I thought, well, I don’t know what I thought. But when I heard about Danita, I remembered you, and I’d seen that video of you and the reporters . . .”

  “And you kind of lost it,” Marcus said as he took a step back and out from between Javier and me.

  “Right. I just kind of lost it.” He met my eyes again then, but this time there was only sadness there. “I’m so sorry.”

  I nodded. “It’s okay. I’d be angry if I were you, too. Heck, I’m angry, and no one I know died.”

  Tuck stepped up. “Mr. Petra? Sheriff Mason. If you have a minute, I’d like to talk to you. I was intending to do so sooner, but the case, well, it keeps getting more complicated. Now, though, I think I need to make time.”

  “I’ve been waiting for your call,” Javier said. “Anything I can do to help, I will.”

  Tuck looked at me. “Mind if I use your back room?”

  I nodded. “Of course.” As the two of them walked away, I said to Marcus and Rocky, “Do think I could charge the town rent for using my office as a police substation?”

  Marcus laughed. “Might be worth the ask.”

  * * *

  I had almost forgotten that Javier and Tuck were in the back when they finally emerged. I wouldn’t say they looked like buddies, but any hostility that had lingered on Petra’s shoulders was gone. He apologized again as he headed toward the door, and then he looked back and said, “Santa’s coming again starting tomorrow?”

  “He is,” I said and tried not to cringe as he responded.

  “Maybe I’ll bring my boys.”

  “Oh, that would be great. Please do.”

  He smiled and started his walk back to the door as Cynthia, the nurse from the hospital who had acted a little weird about Bixley, walked in. The two stopped and stared at one another, and for a moment, I thought I heard that whistling sound that always rings across the scene when there’s about to be a shoot-out in an old Western. Clearly, there was no love lost between these two.

  “Nurse Delilah. Why are you here?”

  The nurse craned her neck back and said, “Excuse me. Last I checked this was a public institution.” She leaned around Javier and caught my eye. “You’re open right?”

  “We are. In fact, we’d love for you to come in.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tuck watching me, and I took out my phone to text him. “She knew Bixley. Well.”

  He gave me a quick nod as he glanced at his own phone and then played it cool. At least I guessed that’s what he was doing as he began fervently studying the sex book section. If I hadn’t been concerned about the confrontation mounting at the entrance to my store, I would have snapped a picture.

  “The nice woman who runs this store doesn’t need the likes of you in here, Nurse Delilah.” Petra’s voice was shaking with rage, and his hands were balled into fists by his side.

  Now, that’s a real about-face in the course of a half-hour, I thought. From attacker to protector. That whiplash might hurt later. Still, I didn’t really need protecting from my own customers. I stepped forward and said, “Javier, what’s all this about? Cynthia is welcome in my store.”

  “You want to let a murderer in here?” Javier spat.

  “Wait, what, whoa! A murderer?”

  Cynthia’s face had gone ice cold, and when she spoke it was in a jagged whisper. “I. Am. Not. A. Murderer.”

  “Well, if not, then you worked with one, maybe helped him. Let him keep doing what he was doing,” Javier stepped closer to Cynthia, and I was glad to see both Tuck and Marcus moving forward.

  “Javier, what is going on here?” Tuck asked, a “how to talk to your kids about sex” book under his arm.

  “This woman was Bixley’s assistant. She helped him murder my father and all those other people, too. You need to arrest her, Sheriff.” Javier’s voi
ce was thick with anger and tears.

  “That’s a pretty serious accusation you’re lobbing at . . . ,” he stopped and looked Cynthia. “I’m sorry. Your name?”

  “I’m not telling you my name, not after an accusation like that. You need to arrest him for slander.” Her volume level was rising, and now, a small crowd was gathering both in the store and outside.

  “Ma’am, I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to get at the heart of a murder.” Tuck took off his hat and slowed his voice as he approached Cynthia.

  But she wasn’t haven’t any of it. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. But you don’t know me, and I certainly don’t know you. I will have my attorney contact you.” Cynthia looked at me. “I’m sorry for the scene, Harvey, but this is too big for me to take any risks.” Her voice grew softer. “I hope you understand.”

  With that, she turned and walked out the door, and while I appreciated her apology – even though she hadn’t needed to give it – I didn’t understand, not at all. This wasn’t some legal TV show where everyone called their attorneys for everything. This was St. Marin’s, our quiet town, and that was Tuck Mason, a good sheriff and a great man. I had no idea why Cynthia was so defensive, but I had a feeling she hadn’t done herself any favors with that reaction. She sounded like she had something to hide, and that could be a dangerous position to take in a murder investigation.

  Tuck looked at me with his eyebrows raised and tilted his head toward the café before turning to Javier and saying, “Mr. Petra, have a minute?”

  Javier shrugged and followed the sheriff toward a table. I scooted along behind, so curious that my ribs were tingling with anticipation. Someday I might get bored of trying to find the answers to, well, anything – including murder, but today was not that day.

  As we sat down, Rocky brought us a carafe of coffee, three mugs, and cream and sugar, and I smiled in a way that I hoped gave her the “I’ll tell you later” signal as I sat down.