Plotting for Murder (Cozy Mystery Bookshop Series Book 1)

by Tamra Baumann

  And hopefully, I’ll solve my mom’s mystery and won’t even miss the sixty bucks my dad probably needs worse than I do.

  My father follows me and Dylan downstairs and waves before he locks the door behind us.

  Dylan says, “Technically, he just committed a crime. I could arrest him for stealing my twenty.”

  I give him a shoulder bump. “Maybe you should arrest yourself for being a sucker instead. How many years have you known my dad?”

  Dylan laughs. “Too many. Still, I never heard the jellybean story.”

  “He only called me that because he hit his head. He stopped calling me that by the time I was ten.”

  “It’s kind of cute. Did you find something?”

  “Yep.” I pull the envelope from my lower back and tear it open. Inside, there’s a web address. My mom has written, You might need this to stock your new restaurant. Sleight of hand and hidden panels are just illusion. I hope your new restaurant will be true magic. I turn the paper over, and it’s blank on the other side. “I don’t get it. This looks like a wine website.”

  Dylan takes the note from me and examines it as we walk back to my house. “Maybe it’s part of a series of clues?”

  “Maybe. There’s an old wine cellar in the basement at home. It’s scary and filled with spiders, so I never go down there. Perhaps a brave, strong man like yourself would like to check it out when we get back?”

  “Depends. Are we having dessert tonight?” He hands the note back.

  “If you’ll go down to the scary place, then I’m making dessert.”

  “Deal.”

  As soon as we arrive at my home, I free Cooper from the laundry room, and Dylan descends the stairs that lead to the icky basement wine cellar. I promised dessert, so I head to the kitchen to see what I have on hand. Tiramisu would have gone well with our dinner, but I don’t have heavy cream or ladyfinger cookies. I only have the basics on hand: eggs, flour, sugar, and cocoa powder in the pantry, so brownies it is. I quickly whip up a batch from memory and then throw them into the oven. Cooper has grown bored watching me and sits in the corner chewing on his rawhide bone.

  Just as I fire up my laptop in the nook, Dylan returns and sits across from me. He slides his phone my way. “I took pictures of the whole basement for you. It’s mostly boxes filled with junk. And not a single bottle of wine.”

  After flipping through the pictures, I let out a sigh. Another dead end. “The Admiral was right. My mom didn’t want to make finding whatever she hid easy.”

  Dylan points a finger toward my laptop. “The answer has to be on that website.”

  “Let’s see what we’ve got.” I study the landing page. It’s a lot like the pages Brittany and I looked at earlier for rare books, but this one is all about wine. I flip the screen around so Dylan can see. “I don’t get any of this. It makes no sense.”

  Dylan’s brow creases as he studies the screen. “Maybe she was serious. Maybe she was simply pointing out a great place to buy wine for your restaurant. But then, why hide it in a trunk?”

  As he’s thinking out loud, I go check on the brownies. Not quite done, so I close the oven and then slide next to Dylan in the nook again. He’s paging through screens of wine, but nothing stands out.

  “Your mom didn’t give you the website’s home page address, so she must’ve given you a specific page for a reason.” Dylan types in the original web address again, and it opens up with a page filled with expensive wine that I can’t even pronounce.

  He says, “I was just reading the other day how the assistant to a wealthy guy in New York embezzled hundreds of thousands of dollars by secretly selling his employer’s rare wine. It was kept in a wine cellar in a house in upstate New York the employer only visited rarely. The thief sold seven bottles of wine to a collector for over $133,000.”

  “Really?” I lean closer to the screen and study it harder. “In the last restaurant where I worked, we had a few bottles kept under lock and key that were worth like $450 a bottle. I can’t imagine anyone even paying that much.”

  “Most wouldn’t.” Dylan highlights the bottles of wine and cuts and pastes the web address in an email he sends to himself. “And our murderer probably wouldn’t know that wine could be worth so much either. I’ve been thinking about how we could announce what your mother hid but keep the mayor out of it. What if we let it slip that your mom left you some valuable art? That you’d found it right away and gave it to a broker to auction off?”

  “My uncle will be all over me to claim the profits.”

  Dylan shakes his head. “I’ll tell the mayor the truth. That while I can’t discuss the details, we’re using this false information to flush out the killer.”

  “So if whoever killed Chad was after what my mother hid, they’d think I found it first. And give up looking for it? Or, if it was the mystery customer or Crystal, it won’t make any difference.”

  “Exactly. In the meantime, we’ll keep looking. And we’ll see how people react to the news. I think it might help keep you safe and keep your secret safe from your uncle too.”

  I hold up my hand for a high five. “I love it! Let’s do it.”

  Dylan gently slaps my palm. “Do I smell brownies?”

  Yikes! I forgot about them. “I hope you like them well done.” I jump up and grab the pan from the oven. Got them just in time. “Want some vanilla ice cream on yours?”

  “Absolutely.” Dylan’s phone rings, and he answers with, “Hi, Madge.”

  Dylan’s brows scrunch as he listens. “Did you touch it?”

  He listens for a few more minutes, then says. “I’ll be right there.” He disconnects the call and says, “Madge sat down to do some knitting and found an energy drink can at the bottom of her bag. Claims she didn’t put it there.”

  “Chad’s? She’d left her bag in the dining area. I overheard her say the yarn was such a mess, she couldn’t use it to knit during the meeting like she usually does. I saw you search it.”

  “I did.” He stands to leave. “If it is Chad’s, someone put the can in there after I searched the bag. And it was conveniently in an area the camera doesn’t cover. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a print. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know.”

  “Thanks.” After he leaves, I slump into the nook. If someone put the can in the bag after Dylan searched it, that means the killer or his or her accomplice was still in the bookstore. So at least one of the book club members is guilty of murder.

  A shiver runs up my spine at the thought of being locked in my store with a murderer next Thursday night.

  Chapter 9

  It’s Sunday afternoon, and Cooper and I have the house all to ourselves for a change. I’m exhausted because I couldn’t fall back asleep last night after Renee texted to confirm she’d arrived home safely after her date. At 1:30 a.m. I guess I deserved that. I’m glad she checked in, though. One less thing for me to worry about.

  I’d started the morning searching with gusto. Looking high, low, and in between produced zero. Nada. Bupkis.

  I’ve just made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a handful of chips on the side, when the doorbell rings, sending Cooper into a barking frenzy.

  It’s Dylan at the front door with dark circles under his eyes that send a sympathetic pang to my heart. It looks like he’s been up all night. “Hey. Have you had lunch?”

  He shakes his head and follows me inside and back to the kitchen. After collapsing into the nook, he pulls Cooper into his lap and rubs the dog’s ears. “Find anything?”

  “Nope.” I slide my sandwich in front of him and make myself another. “I’ve looked in the attic, torn apart my mom’s study, searched the garage, all the closets, and looked under all the beds, but still nothing. I keep picking up knickknacks that I’ve seen around here forever and wondering if they’re the valuable thing, but then I remembered the Admiral said the things are hidden.”

  Dylan nods as he tucks into his sandwich so fast, I hand him the second one I’
d made for myself and start on another. Between bites, he says, “What if Wade, who’s here a lot by himself, has found whatever your mom hid? Chad and he were friends. What if Chad told Wade your mom’s secret?”

  “Maybe. Although he doesn’t seem the type to steal. He’s such a laid-back surfer dude. I can’t see him putting in that much effort. Into anything.” However, Wade has been here a lot by himself. “Do you think I should tell him to take a few weeks off? Just until we figure this out?”

  “I would. I’m still going with the theory that any one of the book club members could be the killer until I know for a fact they aren’t.”

  “Okay.” I set the bag of chips on the table and scoot into the nook across from Dylan. “I was just thinking about the can in Madge’s bag. And how creepy is it that someone in book club either killed Chad or helped kill him?” A shudder runs up my spine again. “The thought of the next meeting freaks me out a little.”

  Dylan grabs a large handful of chips. “That’s why I’m going to be hiding in the store watching the cameras at the next meeting. Any way to change it to Tuesday? Ed said he’d be at your store first thing tomorrow morning setting up the new cameras.”

  “I could ask Madge to ask the members. She’s the one who sends all their emails. I haven’t heard yet when Chad’s service is going to be, though.”

  “There was a delay releasing his body to his family. They wanted to do more tissue and organ tests because of the DDT.”

  “I’ll send an email to Madge this afternoon.”

  “Great. Any dessert left from last night?”

  “Yep.” I could use a brownie and some ice cream too, so I get busy. After the microwave beeps to alert that our brownies are warm, I add ice cream and join Dylan in the nook again.

  After sampling a bite, I ask, “Was it Chad’s can in Madge’s bag for sure? And if so, any fingerprints?”

  Dylan takes a bite, closes his eyes, and moans in sheer ecstasy. It’s just a brownie, but I’m guessing Dylan is still starving even after eating two sandwiches. Bottomless pit, that he is.

  His eyes pop open. “It was the right can but only Chad’s and Madge’s fingerprints showed up. She felt the can before she saw it. Didn’t realize what she had until she lifted it.”

  My brownie takes a nose dive in my stomach. I was so hopeful for another print. The killer’s fingerprint. Could it be Madge? “She is sort of obsessed with this crime. Maybe I was too quick to eliminate her from the suspect list. Yet, she couldn’t have known Cooper was going to be there to steal her yarn and make such a huge distraction. And why tell you she found the can rather than just disposing of it if she is guilty?”

  Dylan nods as he chews.

  I continue with my theories, “The Admiral doesn’t have any motive that I can see. Julie and Crystal working together is still on the top of my list. Any interesting things when you looked into bank accounts?”

  “Lots. That, as you know, I can’t discuss. What we do know as of this morning is that the can didn’t have any trace of chemicals inside. Or it had been rinsed thoroughly, but then it’d be hard to maintain Chad’s prints.”

  “So, it’s fairly safe to say the can wasn’t how Chad got poisoned.” Relief fills me that it probably wasn’t Madge after all, then. I like her.

  “Yep.” He pushes his empty dessert plate forward and sets Cooper on the kitchen floor. “Back to money issues. Why would you tell your dad to take the money from your safe when you obviously need it too?”

  “You heard that, huh?” I take my time chewing as I compile an answer. Why does anyone help people who are lovable but major messes?

  I finish off my brownie and push my plate away too. “Because I now know my mother was lazy when it came to returning books that didn’t sell. Brittany said my mom could have returned many of those books for credit, but she held on to them. Probably hoping some would become valuable one day. And because the way the trust is set up, she could. So, I’m hopeful we’ll have enough older books in the back and attic to hold me over until I can execute my trust loophole plan. And put my uncle in his place too.”

  Dylan’s right brow hikes up. “Nice evasion.”

  I lift both hands in defense, but then let them fall. “I gave Max the money because he’s my dad. I can always find a chef’s job in San Francisco, if it comes down to that. My dad doesn’t have any other options. He’s an aging magician who can’t keep up with the new crop of entertainers with all their glitz and glam. Old-school magic is all he knows.”

  “Fair enough.” Dylan stands and puts our plates in the dishwasher, something he would’ve never done before he went into the military. He is a different person now, like my mom said in her letter.

  He says, “So you’ve changed your mind? Thinking of sticking nearby if things don’t work out? Not going back to the Midwest?”

  “I came to that conclusion during my mostly sleepless night last night. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed my sister and the kids. Being nearby and seeing them whenever I want has been nice.”

  “Yeah. It’s why I came home too. Lance, Megan, and the kids are all the family I have now.”

  That’s not true. His dad is still alive, but I won’t remind him of that now when he’s too tired to argue with me.

  Dylan’s face lights up with one of his signature cute smiles, despite his obvious fatigue. “I’m glad you’re going to stick close, Sawyer. Even if it ends up being San Francisco.”

  “Strangely, so am I. When I thought for a while yesterday that my uncle might win our battle, it became clear to me that I wanted to stay anyway.”

  “Good. Want me to help you search some more? I still feel like the kitchen might have something to do with this. Your mom always hired locals, and that she didn’t this time is a red flag for me.”

  “You might not think that if you’ve ever watched Wade move at a snail’s pace around here. My mom knew she had a deadline for once and needed to get things done.”

  Dylan’s eyes scan the kitchen. “What if the kitchen is the clue? Hiding in plain sight. Maybe she wanted you to make a B&B out of this? It isn’t your normal home kitchen. And there are a ton of bedrooms that aren’t used upstairs. You’d be allowed to make improvements to the house, like add bathrooms, according to the trust, right?”

  “Yeah, within reason. I have to get my uncle’s permission for anything major.” I stand next to Dylan and scan the kitchen with a new eye too. It is more a commercial kitchen than a residential one, based on my recommendations. I figured Mom would only get to remodel the kitchen once because of my tightfisted uncle, so why not go all out with the trust’s money? Little did I know she was remodeling the kitchen for me. “You know what’s interesting? I found all the paperwork for the remodel, except for a set of plans. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

  He shrugs. “They got permits and had inspections, so the plans must exist. Maybe your mom had no use for a set of plans after the remodel was complete?”

  “And yet she kept every scrap of paper otherwise? I don’t know.”

  Dylan slowly nods. “I’ll pull a copy of the plans tomorrow, and we’ll have a look.”

  I open my mouth to warn against attracting my uncle’s attention, but Dylan’s quicker. He says, “I’ll call in a few favors around the office. The mayor will never know.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it, but please don’t do anything to get yourself in trouble with my uncle. He can be a vindictive man.”

  “I’m aware. People keep voting for him because they’re afraid not to. And no one wants the hassle of running against him.”

  “Maybe you should run against him. Everyone likes you.”

  “Maybe.” He turns to leave. “Frank’s term isn’t up for a while, but I haven’t ruled it out. I’m going to see him in the morning and start the process of telling everyone our fake news about your art find. It’ll spread like wildfire as all gossip does around here.”

  “Perfect. I’ll tell Brittany first thing too, in case anyon
e asks her. Now please go home before you pass out.”

  “Call me if you find something.”

  “I will. Get some sleep.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He sends me a snappy salute before he disappears through the swinging door and then calls out, “I’ll lock up behind me.”

  After he’s gone, Cooper and I head to the front door, and I turn the dead bolt too.

  Dylan’s right. We should assume anyone could be the killer until we know better. I should be more careful about Wade. I’ll have to come up with a good excuse for him to hold up work here for a few weeks when I see him tomorrow.

  Better safe than sorry. Though, with another delay I’ll be lucky to have my woodwork fixed by Easter.

  On Monday morning, I’m clipping Cooper onto his leash to head to the store earlier than usual because I need to stop at the bank, when a knock sounds on my home’s front door. Probably Wade. Ed, the locksmith/security guy in town, had left three sets of house keys on the kitchen counter Saturday morning, but Wade hadn’t grabbed his set on his way out to his softball game. Thankfully. Now I won’t have to ask for them back.

  I open the door, and there’s Wade with freshly cut blond hair. It’s almost military short. He says, “Morning, Sawyer.” He runs a hand through his new buzz cut. “Thanks for telling Gage it was okay to write me a check this morning.”

  Gage had emailed me at a little after eight and asked if I approved Wade’s early paycheck. It was the least I could do before I tell him I won’t need him around the house for a while. And luckily, Gage did my dirty work for me. He told Wade we’d found a pressing electrical problem that would make it hard for him to work with his power tools during a system upgrade.

  I force a smile. “I see you’ve already put the money to good use. Nice haircut. I think Chad’s mom will approve too.”

  “Hopefully.” He shoves his hands into his front pockets. “This electrical box upgrade comes at a bad time, though. I cleared my schedule when your mom asked if I could do a long-term project for her. Gonna be hard with no paycheck for a few weeks, you know?”