by V. M. Burns
We made a point of greeting people when they entered the store but then backed off and left them to explore on their own. After our greeting, we left, allowing David to wander through the store alone. A customer looking for an out-of-print book distracted me, and I promptly forgot about him.
The book in question wasn’t valuable, but it was first printed in 1948. It also happened to be one I owned two copies of. Possessing multiple copies of books wasn’t unusual for me. I often bought boxes of used books at garage sales. Plus, after decades of reading mysteries, there were books I’d read so long ago I forgot I’d read them until I bought another copy and started reading. This particular book happened to be one of those. Market Street Mysteries wasn’t a used bookstore, but I would gladly give away a book to someone who would read it.
I let Nana Jo know I needed to run upstairs. When I hit the back stairs, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and my skin tingled. Something wasn’t right. I hesitated and tried to picture what was in the shop. I’d left Nana Jo helping a customer find a Nancy Drew book for her granddaughter. Christopher was running the cash register, and Zaq was in the back room working on inventory. I wasn’t sure about Dawson. It must have been him upstairs. I released the breath I held and continued upstairs.
Something scraped across the floor. “Dawson, is that you?”
It wasn’t Dawson. David Parker stood in my living room and stared at the ceiling.
“Mr. Parker. What are you doing here?” My emotions swung from pleasant shopkeeper to what the heck are you doing in my home in less than five seconds.
“I am so sorry. I must have gotten lost. I was looking for the restroom and must have taken a wrong turn.”
The explanation was logical but off. I usually locked the door to the back stairs that lead up to my living area. I tried to remember if I’d locked it that morning. Nana Jo and Dawson both had keys and might have run upstairs, but both were good at locking up afterward. If either left it unlocked, it would be a first. And, David had passed right by the door clearly marked RESTROOM on his way to the stairs. I made a mental note to check the lock when I went downstairs.
“I also have to admit I was curious about the building. You know, I used to own it.” David Parker must have known I didn’t believe his story.
“No. I hadn’t realized that.” I waited for him to expound.
“It was a long time ago. When my brothers and I returned from the war, we came into a little money. We bought several pieces of property. This was one of them.”
“I see.” It didn’t explain why he was in my living room.
After an awkward moment, he continued, “Of course, it looked nothing like this when we owned it. Back then, it was just an old warehouse. You’ve really done a wonderful job renovating. It’s a beautiful home.”
I had done a lot of work. The building had been abandoned for years. The upstairs had been a big open loft area, with water-stained floors and exposed brick walls. A leaky roof had caused a great deal of water damage and a hole in the ceiling. I was proud of my building and my home. Finding David Parker in it was still bizarre.
“Thank you. I’ve done a lot of work to the place. But, the upstairs is my personal space. You’ll understand if I ask you to leave.” I motioned toward the staircase.
David had the decency to look contrite before hurrying downstairs.
I surveyed my space. Nothing appeared to be moved, other than one chair. He’d moved it away from the living room area, close to the wall.
I’d kept the exposed brick. Elaborate plasterwork detail, including gargoyles and angels, topped the walls. Initially I’d considered having the gargoyles removed. They weren’t exactly my design aesthetic, but they were unique and quite the conversation piece. I left them.
“Sam!” Nana Jo pulled me out of my reveries.
I grabbed the book and ran downstairs. I checked the door. It looked okay, but there were small scratches around the lock that I didn’t recall being there before. I made sure I locked the door behind me.
The store didn’t slow down until close to closing. I was about to lock the door when George Parker walked in.
Nana Jo greeted him just as she had his brother. “Well, isn’t this amazing, we’ve had visits from both Parker brothers in one day.”
I knew Nana Jo well enough to see she saw their visits as anything but a coincidence.
“My brother, David, was here?”
“Why yes. David did pay us a visit, didn’t he, Sam?”
“Yes. I had an opportunity to give him my condolences.” I wasn’t sure whether I should tell George about finding David in my living room. Maybe he was in on whatever weird thing led David upstairs.
“Did my brother say anything . . . unusual?” He fidgeted.
“What do you mean by unusual?” Nana Jo was all sweetness and innocence.
George blustered. “I don’t know. He is a bit odd.”
“How do you mean?” I was curious about what constituted odd to George Parker.
“Is there someplace where we can sit down?” he said.
We escorted George Parker to a bistro table at the back of the store. Nana Jo grabbed us each a cup of tea and a scone, and we sat. Nana Jo and I sipped our tea and waited for George to explain.
He finished his scone and most of his tea before starting. “I suppose you know David spent many years in prison?”
I wondered how to tactfully ask what David’s crime was.
Nana Jo jumped right in. “What crime did he commit?”
Nothing like the direct approach.
George squirmed. “Armed robbery.” He swallowed. “And murder. David was always getting into trouble, ever since we were boys. Initially it wasn’t bad, but after we came back from the war, he was different.” He gazed out of the window. “I guess we were all different after the war. We’d seen so much evil. Friends and enemies killed, brutally killed. It was horrible.”
“Who did he kill?” Nana Jo said quietly.
“He robbed a bank. One of the security guards tried to stop him. David swears it was his friend who fired the shot, but the witnesses all said it was David. He was sentenced to life in prison.”
“Then why is he here?” I shuddered at the thought of the time I spent upstairs chatting with a convicted murderer.
“David is dying. He was released under the compassionate release policy. Doctors say he has maybe three months.”
That certainly gave me a lot to think about. David Parker was in town before Clayton was murdered. Just because he’d killed once didn’t mean he’d kill again, especially if the victim was his flesh and blood. Even if that person was an annoying jerk.
“How did Clayton and David get on?” I hoped I wasn’t being rude.
George stared into his tea. “David and Clay never did get along very well. I think they were too much alike. David was angry at Clay. He felt . . .” George seemed reluctant to share what David felt.
I needed to know. David might very well have murdered his nephew. David could be my chance to get Detective Pitt looking at someone other than me as Clayton Parker’s murderer.
Nana Jo placed her hand on George’s. “Please. This is very important. I know this has to be difficult for you, but we need to know.”
Boy, was she good.
“David was unhappy about a number of things. One of them was that he felt Clay was taking advantage of him.”
“How? What did Clayton do?” I asked.
“When my brothers and I came back from the war, we inherited some money and bought properties. My brother Robert started his real estate business. We never drew up any papers specifically stating we were all equal partners. We were brothers. There wasn’t a need for legal documents. Then Robert died, and Clay took over. He started selling off the properties.” He waved his hand. “Like this one. He even sold the real estate business before my brother was cold in the ground.”
“Why? Wasn’t the business doing well?”
“The local
economy went through some tough times. We took out several loans, and things were a bit tight. Clay liked to live well. Mostly, I think he wanted to get involved in a risky business deal and needed cash, a lot of cash.”
“Okay, so Robert dies and all of the businesses are in his name. Clayton starts selling the properties and the family business. Then David comes back.”
He nodded.
“Did David talk to Clayton about this?” In David’s place, I would have been furious.
“Talk? David came back looking for his share. He wanted to go to Bermuda and spend the remainder of his days on a beach. Clay claimed David wasn’t entitled to anything and refused to part with a dime. David was furious and threatened to kill—” Crimson rushed up his neck, and he attempted damage control. “I didn’t mean he did anything. David was always a hothead, but he would never hurt anyone, especially Clay.”
Nana Jo apparently had less scruples about hurting George’s feelings than me. “He did hurt someone. He’s killed before. What’s to say he wouldn’t kill again?”
George’s eyes got as large as half-dollars and he squirmed. “I should be going.” He left.
Nana Jo looked at me, “What do you think?”
I waffled between excitement and fear. The thought of giving Detective Pitt another suspect and getting him off my back thrilled me, but the fact I’d found a murderer in my loft terrified me. As many murder mysteries as I’d read, those murders and murderers weren’t real. David Parker was real.
Nana Jo wanted to call Stinky Pitt on the telephone immediately and tell him we’d found the killer. Well, maybe not the killer, but definitely a strong suspect. After my last encounter with Detective Pitt, I wasn’t thrilled about seeing him again, even if it meant getting him off my back and rubbing his nose in it a bit. We decided on a compromise. We called Jenna and passed along the information. She promised to relay it to Detective Pitt.
The next day’s headline story in the local newspaper, The Harbor Town Post, said David Parker had been taken in for questioning for the murder of his nephew. Jenna stopped by and told us David had been arrested. Part of me was relieved a murderer was off the street. I’d be able to sleep easy, and Nana Jo would be able to move home, although I’d grown quite accustomed to having her around. The other part of me was sad at the thought of David Parker killing his nephew over something as trivial as money. How did a family recover from something like that?
The girls and I went to Randy’s Steak House to celebrate the conclusion of our successful sleuthing. The girls were disappointed they weren’t there to hear the final bit of information that led to the arrest, but I assured them they all played a major role in solving the case. The North Harbor Billiard Club had one dollar beers and half-priced margaritas on special, so we decided to kick up our heels. As the designated driver, I restricted my drinking to diet cola, but the girls made up for my lack of alcohol. We closed the place down at three a.m. It took the owner and a nice bartender to help get Dorothy and Irma in the car.
When I arrived home after dropping the girls off at the retirement village, it was almost five a.m. My cell phone battery had died hours ago, and I was too tired to bother checking my voice mail. I plugged my cell in to charge and fell asleep the instant my head hit the pillow.
Two hours later, my phone rang. I was inclined to ignore it, but I checked the caller ID. It was Jenna, and she wouldn’t stop until I answered. After a muffled “hello,” I put the phone on my pillow and listened. Within seconds, I was wide awake.
David Parker had bonded out of jail overnight. By morning, he was dead.
I hung up and lay in bed, unable to move. The air was thick and dense. When I forced myself to get up, it was like trying to push my way through an invisible wall of pudding. My mind couldn’t wrap itself around the reality of David’s death. Was it only two days ago I talked to him? I showered and dressed on autopilot and found myself sitting at the kitchen bar drinking coffee, or rather, staring into the cup. I don’t know how long I had sat there.
“What’s wrong?” Nana Jo interrupted my stupor.
“Jenna called. David Parker’s dead.”
“We knew he was sick, but that was really fast.”
She must have thought he died from the cancer.
“No. He hung himself. We killed him.”
Nana Jo put down her coffee and hugged me. I needed to feel her arms around me. I cried like a baby. When I’d cried myself out, she handed me a wet dishcloth and told me to wipe my face. The cool cloth felt good. I didn’t know if I’d cried for David Parker, Clayton Parker, Leon, or myself. Everything had welled up in me. Tears felt good. I was empty inside, and even that was good. I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. My eyes were red and swollen, but I didn’t care. All of the pent-up emotions of the past few months were gone, and I felt like a real person, instead of a robot. When I returned to the kitchen, Nana Jo set a plate of bacon and toast on the counter. I was ravenous.
“Thank you,” I said between bites.
“You needed that. Feeling better?”
I nodded and kept eating.
“You realize David Parker’s death had nothing to do with you, right?”
“I do know that. It’s just the loss.” I struggled to put my emotions into words. I wanted Nana Jo to understand. “Leon fought so hard. He fought for every second he could, for every breath he could. David Parker took his life. He just gave up and killed himself. He treated life like a dirty tissue and tossed it away. It doesn’t seem fair.”
Nana Jo nodded. I did feel some responsibility for David Parker’s death. I didn’t blame myself for his actions, but I mourned the loss nonetheless. We ate quietly.
“You going to be okay to work?” Nana Jo loaded our dishes into the dishwasher.
“Yeah. I’m going to be fine.”
We went downstairs and lost ourselves in books. Store traffic wasn’t heavy, but it was steady. I stayed busy. By the end of the day, I was physically tired, but my mind was restless. We ordered pizza for dinner. Afterward, Nana Jo and Dawson went back downstairs for a tutoring session. She’d tutored him for the past week, and I would take over the next. He’d come to an arrangement with his college counselor. If he took online courses over the summer and passed with a B average, he would be eligible to play football in the fall.
I tried to watch television and then to read. Nothing settled my thoughts. Something wasn’t right, and I couldn’t place my finger on it. I decided to write in the hope it would, if not help me figure out what was wrong, at least distract me.
“Victor, don’t be such a bore,” Daphne said, not for the first time.
As had become the custom since the duke’s arrival, James and Victor dined at Wickfield Lodge. It rained all day so James and Victor drove the three miles this evening. After dinner, Lord William and Lady Elizabeth declared themselves exhausted far too early for the statement to be true. The younger group nonetheless accepted it, and Lord William and Lady Elizabeth retired.
James entertained the ladies with stories of his days in the military, his days at Cambridge, and his days at Winchester school with Victor. Victor declined cards, music, and any other entertainment Daphne suggested. After his refusal to drive into town for dancing at a new club, which was, according to Daphne, all the rage, she had an outburst of temper.
“I’m sorry, but it seems bad form to go dancing at a time like this,” Victor said stiffly.
“I don’t see why.” Daphne pouted. “Why should we be stuck inside as though we’ve done something wrong? We didn’t have anything to do with Charles’s death. I don’t see why we can’t go out and have fun.”
Victor went to a corner and smoked.
“I want to go out,” Daphne said to James. “I say we leave Victor here and go enjoy ourselves.”
“I don’t know.” James joined his friend in the corner.
“By all means, don’t let me keep you all from your fun.” Victor’s chin was set.
If Da
phne heard the cynicism in Victor’s voice, she chose to ignore it. “Good. Let’s go.” She rang the buzzer to summon Thompkins.
The butler arrived, and Daphne gave him his orders. “Thompkins, see that the duke’s car is brought around. We’re going out.”
Thompkins nodded and backed out of the room. Daphne left to grab her shawl and switch handbags.
James watched his friend.
“Perhaps you should go,” Penelope said. “It would be good for Daphne to get out. I’m rather tired. I’ll sit this one out.”
Victor gazed into his drink.
“Cheers. No worries, mate. I’ll be sure to take good care of your betrothed.” James hurried out to the hallway.
Daphne’s voice floated in from the hallway. The front door closed. A finely tuned engine revved and sped away. In the parlor, Victor continued to gaze into his drink.
Penelope wasn’t sure he’d even heard Daphne and James leave. “Are you just planning to sit there smoking all evening?”
Victor stood. “I’m terribly sorry. I’ll head home.”
“Don’t be such a bloody fool. Sit down.” Penelope stamped her foot and glared at Victor. She didn’t know if the shock on his face came from her choice of words or her tone, but he sat back down.
“Are you angry?” he asked.
Her temper flared. “Angry? Am I angry? Are you joking? You’re the one who should be angry. You just let your fiancée leave the house and go out dancing. The question isn’t whether or not I’m angry. The question is why aren’t you angry?”
“I’m not angry because, frankly, I don’t care what Daphne does. And I think you know it.”
“You don’t care?” she whispered.
Victor shook his head.
She searched his face and summoned the courage to ask the question she’d dared not ask before. “Why don’t you care?”
With a strength that sent a shiver up her spine, he pulled her to his chest, bent down, and kissed her. Tenderly, softly he kissed her.
