Trouble on the Books

by Essie Lang

  Edie leaned closer, a conspiratorial tone in her voice. “You, my dear, need to poke around the castle and talk to everyone who’s worked with Loreena. Find out more about her personal life if you can and, in particular, what they know about her nephew, Carter.”

  “I doubt anyone at the castle knows that much. I think they were all as afraid of her as I was.”

  “Ah, you haven’t gotten to know Mae-Beth Warner very well, have you? She runs the workshops, although these days, it’s purely an organizational role. She’d been there even before Loreena. She has a keen eye and a sharp mind, even though she’s well into her eighties. Just pay her a visit and ask some questions. I’m sure she’ll be forthright. And also, we’ll need to talk to the other police officers involved, since Tekla’s so stubborn.”

  It sounded like Edie had given it a lot of thought. So Shelby wondered why she suddenly felt so uneasy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Shelby tried to relax. She’d arrived home while it was still light out and decided to try to cozy up with a good book, A Floating World, by local writer Paul Malo. It had been recommended to her because it supposedly gave a credible feel for the history of the Thousand Islands, and she’d started reading it when she’d first moved to town. Now she was determined to finish it but also looking at it with an eye to finding out more about all the smuggling that had happened during Prohibition.

  She’d also managed to pick up a book on the topic at the local library over the weekend. Cody had tweaked her curiosity, and she wanted to find out more about the possibility, remote as it might be, that some type of smuggling could actually be taking place using the old scenario from Joe Cabana’s days. And, if so, if that could have led to Loreena’s murder. Although how to make that connection eluded her, but she assured herself that she was just beginning to look into things. She also readily admitted that she was really curious about why the Coast Guard was involved in the investigation. It seemed to make sense that the two might go together.

  She realized at one point that she hadn’t gotten very far with her reading and that she was occasionally looking over toward the dock. She wasn’t hoping for a visitor. No, she was not, although she did wonder how Special Agent Griffin spent his evenings. Then she wondered why she was wondering. She’d never been on the hunt for Mr. Right, like so many of the women she knew. Of course, there’d been Kerry in Accounting, but he’d backed off when she’d made it clear she wouldn’t recommend they publish his manuscript.

  As an only child, she was used to being on her own, with only a father as her guide. And he hadn’t been the social type either. He’d warned her to be wary of relationships, and she’d eyed boys with caution when she’d reached dating age. From what she could see and remember, he’d never dated anyone himself, nor did he have many friends who dropped in to visit them. Maybe the occasional colleague from college. As a botanist, he was at his happiest traipsing around through nature, or taking refuge in his library of books. She’d been happy to go along on the weekend treks, more to be with him than because of any interest in plants and trees of her own.

  If she stayed in Alexandria Bay, and she saw no reason why she shouldn’t, since she had such strong reasons to do so, she’d have to look into some cooking classes and try to meet some more people. Or maybe join the community center and take some fitness classes. She looked down at her figure—she wasn’t overweight, but she was a long way from svelte, and a couple of months of Erica’s truffles hadn’t helped. She’d so fallen in love with those truffles. Definitely, fitness classes were a requirement.

  For now, she was happy that she and Erica had become so friendly so quickly. And then there was Erica’s brother, Drew. An impressive guy whom she’d met a total of two times, both at Erica’s place and for very brief periods. He had made an impression, though. Still in his thirties, he already owned his own restaurant, where he was also the chef, turning out an eclectic menu but known for his Italian dishes. Or so she’d heard. She’d definitely have to give it a try and sometime soon.

  And now there was Aunt Edie, of course. Not her mother but an older woman, some female family, in her life. And, of course, the Bay was where she’d been born and where her mother had died. She wanted to find out more about her.

  She had many reasons to enjoy living here. Except for the murder, of course. That thought quickly sobered her. Was she really a suspect in Loreena’s murder? She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Although it didn’t seem too likely, she should probably pay Chief Stone a visit after work the next day and just flat out ask. And then there was her aunt’s plan to investigate. It wouldn’t do any harm, she figured, to ask a few questions around the village and find out how well Loreena had been liked. Or hadn’t.

  What she needed was a plan. She thought about it some more and decided to put her skills as an editor to work for her. She needed to look at the murder as part of a larger story. What was the plot? Who were the major players? What were the possible motives? And, of course, who had the means and opportunity? She had edited only a couple of murder mysteries, but she’d read hundreds more, so she knew what went into writing them. Now, the question was, what came before the murder? After all, she knew what came after. She’d never talked to so many police in her life.

  * * *

  The first customers into the bookstore Wednesday morning were a harried-looking elderly couple with three preschoolers running circles around them.

  “I’m so sorry for these scallywags, but we’ll try to be quick,” explained the woman. She looked to be in her seventies, maybe even early eighties. Shelby would have been the first to admit she was terrible when it came to guessing ages. In fact, had she not known Edie’s age, she would have taken her to be in her early fifties. Of course, that could have had something to do with her aunt’s eclectic outfits.

  “May I help you with something?” Shelby asked. She noticed that Taylor was enticing the children toward the small table set up with a Jungle Play and Train apparatus. It seemed to be doing the trick and was keeping them entertained. Shelby sighed inwardly. Although she had nothing against kids, she’d been unfortunate enough to have the mischievous kind in her bookstore before, the kind that delighted in pulling books from shelves while the parents, and Shelby, were busy.

  “Yes.” The woman looked at her husband, who rooted through the pockets of his red windbreaker and finally found a scrap of paper, which he handed to her. “I’d like this book, if you have it in stock. It was recommended by a staff member when we were here last year, but you were out of it at that time.”

  Shelby looked at the title. Loreena Swan’s book. And she could just bet who had recommended it.

  “We do have a copy,” she was pleased to say. Trudy had managed to find one at the main store after Loreena’s tirade.

  “I’m so pleased. I don’t see the woman working today, though.” She glanced toward the main hallway.

  Shelby wondered if she should pursue this line of conversation, which would mean mentioning the murder. Perhaps not. “Everyone is on shifts here. Now, would you like a bag?”

  “Oh yes, dear. And here’s my credit card.” She watched the children as Shelby finished the transaction, then signed the receipt. “Thank you so much. We come here every year when we visit our family in Clayton.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Oh, we’re Canadian. We’re from Perth, a small town in Ontario. It’s about an hour-and-a-half drive from here. Well, thank you, dear. I’m so pleased to see the bookstore is still in business and that you had the book this year.” She held up the bag with her purchase as proof.

  As the satisfied customers and their three small charges left, a noisy group of six, all adults this time, filtered in. They paid her no attention, so she was content to let them browse. Taylor also stood back and just watched.

  It turned out to be a good strategy. By the time they left, they’d each bought one of the local-interest books. Shelby was starting to love tourists.

  Just be
fore noon, a woman not much older than Shelby walked in and went straight to the local books section. Shelby knew she wasn’t a tourist. No one wore a clingy designer-looking tunic, leggings, and three-inch heels to go sightseeing, especially to wander around the island. But she was at a loss as to who this woman could be. Before Shelby could engage her in conversation, an equally non-touristy-looking man joined her. After a couple of minutes, they joined Shelby at the counter.

  The woman stuck out her hand. “I’m Chrissie Halstead. I’m in charge of marketing and promotion for the Heritage Society, and this is my fiancé, Carter Swan.”

  Shelby hastily covered her surprise. Loreena’s nephew. “I’m Shelby Cox. It’s nice to meet you.” She didn’t attempt to shake Carter’s hand, as he didn’t offer it. Instead, she said, “I’m so sorry about your aunt.”

  He nodded. “Yes, it was a shock, and a tragedy. This castle and the village were her life.”

  Shelby couldn’t decide just how much shock he was in. He didn’t sound too upset, but she didn’t know him, so it would be unfair to judge. He looked to be unscathed, though, in that I just parked the Lamborghini and am waiting to play tennis way. Somebody that good looking couldn’t be real or touched by sadness.

  Chrissie added, patting his arm, “We’re so very upset about it. Loreena was so very kind to us both. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’ve been put in charge of the volunteers until someone new can be appointed. This is my first visit of the season to the castle, so I wanted to be sure to meet you. I hope your aunt is doing well.”

  “Yes, she’s recuperating just fine but, of course, too slowly for her liking.”

  Chrissie chuckled while Carter looked like he wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. He just stood staring out the bay window at the back of the store.

  “I do notice that while you have an excellent selection of local books, Loreena’s isn’t among them.” Chrissie sounded pleasant enough, but Shelby wasn’t taking any chances.

  “I know. In fact, we just sold the last copy this morning, but I’ve placed a reorder, so it should be back in stock shortly.”

  Chrissie smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re on top of it. Well, we must get back to the village. There’s so much going on today, and we like to show our support for all the events. So nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

  Shelby nodded. “Enjoy your day.”

  Carter honored her with a small and fleeting smile. If there had been some warmth in his eyes, Shelby might have even found him attractive. She’d always had a thing about guys with dark hair and eyes. As it was, he seemed a bit of a cold fish. She was glad when the pair left.

  What was his problem? Surely he couldn’t be mad because Shelby had gotten the job Loreena had intended for him. Maybe he was always a bit standoffish. Snooty, Edie would probably call him. She couldn’t wait to fill her in on this meeting over dinner. Of course, maybe he was deeply upset by his aunt’s death. Shelby knew that she sure would be in his shoes. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, even though he hadn’t seemed all that upset when she had extended her condolences. Everyone has their own way of dealing with things, she heard her dad’s voice whispering in her brain.

  For now, she concentrated on becoming even more familiar with their local books so that she could actually recommend and hand-sell them. When she next looked at the clock, it was half an hour until closing. It had turned out to be a slow day, just as Taylor had predicted. Which was why Shelby had let Taylor leave early. Besides, she hadn’t felt well. Shelby wondered if morning sickness could also turn into afternoon sickness. None of her friends had ever been pregnant, so Shelby had no idea what to expect. She hadn’t even ever held a baby. Well, maybe once as a teenager, but she couldn’t even remember the circumstances any longer, it was so long ago. The thought of being asked to babysit at some point caused the stirrings of a small anxiety attack, but Shelby reasoned that Taylor and her husband must know tons of people in Alexandria Bay. Lots of potential sitters.

  Shelby couldn’t imagine a mad rush at that late hour of the day, so she started counting the cash and doing the closing report. That way, she’d be able to just grab the money and run when she heard the final boat whistle.

  She looked up in surprise when she heard someone enter the store, thinking she’d conjured up the customers she’d thought wouldn’t show, and was unsettled to see Zack Griffin. She didn’t know why she reacted in that way. She had nothing to hide. She wasn’t guilty of anything, except maybe a desire to skip out early.

  “Hey, are you here to buy some local history?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “I got enough local history during my summers growing up, thanks. I’m playing tourist today and thought I’d check out all the attractions on the island, so here I am. I know it’s getting close to closing, so don’t worry, I won’t make you stay open late.”

  “Staying open late isn’t possible here. I live by the castle regulations and also the strong desire not to miss the last shuttle back to Alex Bay. I didn’t take you for the tourist type.”

  He shrugged. “I actually came over in my own boat. That’s one of the perks of carrying a badge, getting to tie up almost anywhere. It gives me more flexibility.”

  “It might also help you figure out some of the details of the murder?”

  He shrugged again. “It can’t hurt. So, tell me, have you had any more thoughts on what happened? Anything come to mind that you didn’t think of right away?”

  She looked at him closely before answering. Was this a trap to find out if she’d been poking around the grotto again or just polite conversation?

  “I thought it was the first forty-eight hours that were the most important and that’s when any information would be fresh.”

  He chuckled. “You’ve been watching TV. And while that is true, it can also work the other way. After a few days, the shock wears off and the mind settles down to dealing with daily routines, which is when anything you didn’t want to deal with at the time might surface. Not that this applies to you. But it’s always good to ask.”

  “Huh. Well, if it did apply to me, I would have told Chief Stone right away.”

  “Good. That’s good. And I’d appreciate it if you would let me know, too.”

  “Why? Doesn’t the chief share with you?”

  He grimaced. “Let’s just say she likes to take her time.”

  “Ah. Well, you should know that Aunt Edie has asked me to sort of check on certain aspects of the investigation.”

  “You mean snoop.”

  “I mean, if I happen to remember anything or to stumble across something that might be useful, I’d be happy to tell you directly. And I hope you would do the same, if it’s not classified information, that is.” She held her breath, not sure if he would get angry or be amused. She was hoping for the latter, wanting him to humor her and maybe let something slip. Although he didn’t seem the type to let that happen.

  Zack held her gaze for a few seconds, then glanced at the clock. “Interesting offer. I need to get going, but I’ll see you soon. And I’ll probably have some more questions.”

  Questions? Well, so did she. The only problem was that she had no idea whom to talk to next.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The warmth of the late-setting sun and a fresh breeze lured Shelby down off her upper deck patio on the houseboat after dinner. She wanted to check out the cemetery on Walton Street. She’d already driven out to the Barnes Settlement Cemetery a few weeks earlier in her quest to find the final resting place for her mom, Merriweather Cox. The one on Walton was closer to home, so she decided to listen to her body, which had been telling her lately that she needed more exercise and to leave the car at home. She figured it best to do the hard stuff first, walking uphill, and then she could coast on the way back down. Not that it was such a steep climb.

  She set out full of enthusiasm and energy, but she had to admit to feeling winded by the time she finally spotted the
cemetery. She definitely needed to get out and exercise more.

  She stopped to catch her breath and thought about her mom. Merriweather, or Merrily as Shelby had once heard her called, hadn’t been mentioned much when Shelby was growing up, and each time she asked her dad some questions, he’d quickly shut her down by switching topics. She figured it hurt him too much to talk about his young wife who had died when Shelby was only three years old. In fact, she knew that was why they had moved away not too long after that. He had been running from his memories.

  Shelby had seen only one picture of her mom, a small 4 × 5 unframed black-and-white that she had found in a shoebox under his bed and pocketed. She’d been so worried he would realize she’d taken it and had tried to come up with excuses as to what she’d been doing checking the box to begin with. But she’d taken it out every night from her own hiding place and thought about how pretty her mom had been. She’d wondered if they’d looked anything alike but decided not. She had the small mouth and freckles of a Cox. Neither of which she thought of as pretty.

  Over the years, they’d returned to Alexandria Bay only a couple of times, at Edie’s request. One time had had to do with the final settling of their parents’ estate, which had sat in limbo while a financial claim against it was being investigated. It had turned out to be bogus, and the two remaining Cox siblings had finally split what was left of their parents’ savings after lawyers’ fees had dwindled the value. She knew her dad had been upset by that, also. Another reason to stay away.

  But now Shelby was back and she had a lot of questions for Edie, but it just didn’t seem the right time to ask them, and whenever she had, Edie had resorted to her father’s old trick of deflection. Out of loyalty to her brother? Or something else?

  There were at least five cemeteries listed in the area, and Shelby planned to visit each one until she found what she was looking for. She doubted that Edie would tell her where her mother was buried even if she asked. No, she’d do this on her own and keep Edie as a last resort. She decided to wander methodically from left to right, although there were no straight rows to follow. Then she headed back toward the first side, checking the names on the tombstones. She stopped to admire an ornate crumbling marker from the late 1800s and felt sad when she counted the number of children in one family that had died within months of each other. That was the last straw. She couldn’t look anymore and decided to go home before the darkness settled in totally. She’d be back another day.