“I didn’t set the alarm last night. There’s something wrong with the stupid thing. I’ve got a technician coming tomorrow to fix it. Can I leave the key on the porch for you? I need to go back to bed. I feel like death warmed over.”
“Well, I guess, but you shouldn’t leave it where—”
“Don’t worry, Mom, it’ll be fine. I’ll put the key in an envelope in the mail slot.” A small jingling noise could be heard on the other end of the line. “I’m getting it off my key ring right now.” She paused. “Huh. That’s weird.”
“What?” I stuffed my feet into sneakers while I waited.
“The bookstore key isn’t here.”
“Are you sure?” She had a separate fob for the store but kept it on the same ring as her others. It was easily distinguishable by a clock face and the words printed on it, So Many Books, So Little Time.
“Maybe it separated from the rest,” she sighed. “Oh well, I’ve got an extra one in my kitchen drawer you can use.”
“I hope no one picked it up.”
“What does it matter?” she asked. “I don’t keep money in the register overnight, and when Preston spreads the word, my store will go belly-up anyway.”
Preston and his posse, namely Daphne, had done quite a number on my cousin last night. “Come on. That’s not like you. Stop the pessimistic attitude. The glass is always half full, not empty, remember.”
She gave a low giggle. “That was my problem last night. Every time my glass was empty, I’d fill it halfway again.”
I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling “How about I stop over with some minestrone after my interviews?”
“Yum, my favorite. No appetite right now, but maybe I could force myself to eat some later. You’re not having dinner for the family tonight, are you?”
“Since our mothers are out of town, no, but you’re welcome to join Justin and me. I’m making pasta with Bolognese.”
Gabby yawned into the phone. “No thanks. I plan to sleep and then read before Lou comes over.”
“Okay, rest up and we’ll talk later.”
“That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all morning,” she murmured and clicked off.
I grabbed my purse, patted Luigi on the head, told him I’d be back soon, and locked up. Gabby had bought a small house in town shortly after Dylan and I moved into ours. If the bookstore went under, she’d be forced to move back in with Aunt Mona. And Gabby would rather die than let that happen.
Within five minutes I pulled up in front of her cute beige cottage. It had been built in the 1970s but only had one previous owner and was in very good condition. An old-fashioned swing hung on the generous screened front porch. In the summertime Gabby loaded it with pillows. She claimed it was her favorite reading spot on days off.
The key was where she’d promised, inside an envelope in the mail slot with my name on it. I peered in the window to thank her, but the blinds were all drawn and the house dark. No doubt that Gabby had gone back to sleep. Well, she was entitled.
As I drove to Once Upon a Book, I rolled the window down to take a moment to appreciate the beautiful spring day in my hometown. The temperature was already in the mid-fifties and our weather might finally be turning the corner.
Cobbled streets and brownstones were plentiful. Harvest Park Avenue ran through the center of town, where both my restaurant and Gabby’s bookstore were located. There was about a quarter of a mile radius between the two. A dozen or so shops peppered the road on either side of the main attraction—a beautiful park, rich in lush greenery during the summer.
The park was already starting to come to life, and in a week or two colorful tulips would be blooming, followed by my favorite flower, lilacs. The flowers were one of the things I loved most about spring. In the fall, grounds people would set out pumpkins for the annual festival. A sparkling tree light display would finish out the year for Christmas.
My first Christmas without Dylan had been a quiet affair, and except for the cookies I baked every year for friends, family, and various townspeople, I hadn’t put in much of an effort. No one expected me to, and my family was even surprised that I’d volunteered to cook dinner, but it had helped me to cope with the day.
All the firsts had been extremely difficult for me—Dylan’s birthday, Christmas, and our sixth anniversary last Valentine’s Day. My mother told me it would get easier over time, and I clung to that aspiration.
The town looked deserted at this early hour. I pulled around to the back of the shop and into the alley, wishing that Java Time was open. A cup of Archie’s dark roast would hit the spot right now. All the main necessities in life were located on the same side of Harvest Park Avenue—the Meat and Greet where I’d stop every week for spareribs and rump roast to make my braciole, Java Time, Carlita’s bakery, and Gabby’s bookstore.
On the other side of the park was Spice and Nice, where I bought my weekly supply of herbs and seasonings, which included fresh oregano, basil, and garlic. Next was The Flower Girl, an exotic floral shop where I’d already placed orders for bud vases and carnations for opening night. Grab and Go Grocery and Suit Yourself, a men’s clothing store that Dylan had liked to frequent, rounded out the street.
I inserted the key into Gabby’s back door, and the knob turned easily. The coffee urn was still in the sink where she’d instructed me to leave it last night. My phone was lying on top of the fridge, and the screen was loaded with text messages. My mother had asked how the signing went. Oh boy. There was one from Justin responding to my previous text, saying he’d stop over for dinner tonight. Another message told me that my menus wouldn’t arrive until Tuesday. Great. The last one was from the woman I was supposed to interview yesterday. She apologized for not showing up and said that she’d changed her mind about the job. Jeez, thanks a lot. Couldn’t she have told me that before the interview?
I placed the phone in my jeans pocket and was about to leave when I noticed a single cannolo lying on the floor next to the door to the main room. We hadn’t dropped any last night, or at least I didn’t think so. Puzzled, I bent down to pick it up and realized immediately that this wasn’t my cannoli. The filling was chocolate as opposed to my vanilla. This made no sense. What was going on?
Slowly I opened the door and proceeded into the store. It was quiet and still, with shadows cast from the sunshine outside. Uneasiness knotted the bottom of my stomach as I walked from aisle to aisle.
“Hello?” I called out. “Is someone here?”
There was no answer. At the end of the aisle labeled Romance, I spotted another cannolo. This one wasn’t mine either.
Someone had clearly been enjoying a midnight snack at Gabby’s expense. Had they found her key and entered the place after we left? Was anything stolen? Gabby couldn’t afford any more losses right now.
Maybe I should call Gino. What if someone was still hiding here? I started to dial 911, and kept my finger hovered over the call button. Maybe there wasn’t anyone in the store, but something was definitely wrong. When I reached the aisle labeled Mystery, several books were scattered on the floor. Another pastry was in the middle of them and, next to it, a hand. An unmoving, lifeless hand.
I let out a small whimper and clutched the end of the aisle to steady myself. Oh no. Please Lord, no. With dread, I forced myself to peer around the corner and look down at the floor.
Staring back up at me were the dull, lifeless eyes of Daphne Daniels.
Four
My blood ran cold as I stared at Daphne’s face. “Oh God.” I forced my trembling knees down onto the floor and felt for a pulse in her wrist. Nothing. Those enormous brown eyes kept staring at me. Tears crept into mine as I searched for a pulse in her neck. Again, nothing. Despite the overcoat she wore, Daphne’s body was ice cold. I knew she had to be dead.
In desperation I looked around, but it was a futile, almost laughable effort. There was no one he
re to help me. With a sob, I pressed “Call” on my phone and a woman’s voice immediately came on the line. “911, what is your emergency?”
“Please send an ambulance—right away! There’s a woman here. Oh, God. I’m sure she’s dead.”
“Slow down, ma’am,” the operator said calmly. “What is the address?”
My mind had gone blank, and I had to stop and think for a moment. “Once Upon a Book—uh—23 Harvest Park Avenue. Please hurry!”
“All right, ma’am. What happened? Do you know this woman?”
“Her name is Daphne Daniels. I have no idea how she got inside.” I had watched Gabby turn the lock on the door myself. “It belongs to my cousin.” Poor Gabby. Things had gone from bad to full-fledged disaster for Once Upon a Book’s future.
The operator interrupted my thoughts. “The EMTs are on their way. Stay on the phone with me until they arrive. Does she have a pulse?”
“No, and she’s ice cold. She must be dead.” My hands shook badly. How had this happened? Upon closer inspection, I noticed that Daphne’s face was swollen. Dread settled on my chest like a heavy boulder. As I listened to the operator, I wondered what exactly had happened to her.
“Is anyone else there with you?” The operator inquired.
The woman was only doing her job, but I was about ready to go into full panic mode. Plus, I wanted to get her off the phone so I could call Gino. No matter where I turned, there was no escape from those empty eyes of Daphne’s. “I need to call my cousin—he’s a cop—”
“Stay on the phone with me, ma’am,” she said in a quiet but firm voice. “An officer will be arriving shortly. What is your name?”
“Tessa—Tessa Esposito.”
“Do you see any other signs of distress? Does she look like she fell? Are there visible bruises?”
My heart raced as if I’d just run a marathon. I felt violently ill. Dylan’s face appeared before me in a foggy haze, and I must have whimpered out loud because the operator’s voice sounded alarmed. “Ma’am, are you all right?” she asked.
A siren wailed in the distance, and I sent up a silent prayer of thanks. I managed to get to my feet and held on to a bookshelf to steady myself. Vehicles with flashing lights pulled up next to the curb. “They’re here,” I managed to say. “I need to let them in. Thank you.”
“All right, ma’am. Take care of yourself.” The operator clicked off.
I walked on shaky, unsteady legs toward the door. When I opened it, the two male EMTs were poised to knock it down. “Where’s the woman in need of medical assistance?” asked a tall man with bleached blond hair.
She’s not ill, she’s dead. “Three aisles down,” I managed to say as they rushed past me with a gurney. I glanced out into the street and saw Gino’s unmarked sedan behind their van. Thank God. Then I noticed a crowd of people starting to gather across the road. Great. This was all we needed. I walked over to where the men were trying to revive Daphne.
“Allergic reaction?” the first EMT said to his partner, a shorter man who sported a goatee.
“Possibly.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’m not getting anything. From the looks of it, she’s been dead several hours. We need the coroner.”
So that was it. Daphne was really gone.
A hand settled on my shoulder from behind, and I almost jumped ten feet in the air. Gino was standing there, his jaw set in a determined manner. “Tess,” he said. “What exactly happened here?”
“She—I—uh…” Tears welled in my eyes and ran down my cheeks. “I found her like that. She was already dead. I have to call Gabs—”
Gino pulled me to his side and spoke gently. “Slow down and stand back so you’re not in their way.” He addressed the man with the goatee. “What do you think, Jay?”
Jay frowned at my cousin. “I can’t say for sure, but it looks like anaphylactic shock to me.” He studied Daphne’s face, which was ghostly white, except for the redness on her cheeks and around her mouth. “See the swelling? She’s been dead at least nine or ten hours.” He placed a sheet over her head. “Our job’s done here, but we’ll wait out front for the coroner to arrive.”
“Thanks for getting here so quickly,” Gino said.
“Gabby,” I croaked out, and looked around for my phone. It was still in my hand. “I have to call her.”
“Calm down.” Gino wrapped an arm around my shoulders and walked me into the Employees Only room. “I phoned her as soon as I heard the call come in. She freaked and thought something had happened to you.” He stared at me grimly. “So did I.”
I wiped at my eyes with a paper towel. “I don’t understand. How did Daphne even get inside? I watched Gabby lock up last night.”
“Was that Daphne Daniels?” Gino asked. “The one who always gave Gabby a hard time in school?”
I nodded. “She was here at the book signing last night. She is—was—Preston Rigotta’s publicist. We didn’t even know until she showed up.”
Gino grimaced. “That must have gone over well with my sister. And what are you doing here on a Sunday? The store is closed.”
“Everyone was gone when Gabby and I locked up last night. I stopped over at her house this morning to get the key because I left my phone here. Gabby’s store key was missing from her ring, so she gave me an extra one. Daphne must have found the other key and used it to get back inside.”
Gino leaned against the table and studied me. He was commanding, with classic Italian looks—dark wavy hair, dark brown eyes, and an olive complexion. He’d been a detective on the Harvest Park police force for the past six years and was excellent at his job. Even though he drove his younger sister crazy, it was obvious how much he adored her and vice versa.
Gino always wore a guarded expression when performing his job, and it carried over into his personal life at times. His “cop face,” Gabby called it. At this moment, his real feelings were exposed, and he lifted troubled eyes to meet mine. “This isn’t going to look good for her,” he said softly.
“What are you talking about?”
He answered my question with another. “How did she and Daphne get along last night?”
“Nothing has changed,” I said. “Daphne was rude and conceited and fawned all over the author like a schoolgirl. When Lou stopped by later, and she found out he was Gabby’s boyfriend, she started flirting with him as well.”
Gino narrowed his eyes. “How did my sister respond? Oh wait, don’t tell me. Did she throw a tray of cannoli at her?”
“Don’t be like that,” I said reproachfully. “Gabs put up with a lot of crap last night and went out of her way to avoid trouble. She spilled wine on Daphne, but it was an accident.” Okay, maybe not. “The signing was a big deal to her.”
“What exactly did she put up with?” Gino asked.
My temper flared when I thought back to Gabby’s treatment. “Preston Rigotta, the author, acted like she was his servant, and Daphne tormented her all evening. For the record, Gabby isn’t the only one who disliked Daphne.”
Gino folded his arms across his broad chest. “Please go on. I’d like to hear more.”
“Is this a formal statement? Should I get ready for a trip to the police station?” I couldn’t believe I’d have to go through an inquisition again. Shortly after Dylan died, Gino had been the one to tell me that his death in a car crash had not been accidental. I’d made more than my fair share of trips to the police station.
“Don’t get sarcastic with me, cuz.” Gino gave me a sour look. “I know you’ve been down this road before and don’t like it any better than you do. But since you are the one that found Daphne, yes, you’ll have to come in for a formal statement. It won’t take long—”
“Tess?” Gabby’s voice, panic stricken, called from the alley. She started to bang on the door, and I hurried over to open it. Her dark eyes were wide with fright as she hugged me. �
�Thank God you’re all right! What happened? Who’s hurt? Did it happen inside the store?”
Gino’s mouth was grim. “Sis, you should sit down.” He grabbed Gabby by the arm, but she shook him off. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair messy, and her skin a sickly pallor. I hoped Gino didn’t realize she was hung over.
“Don’t treat me like I’m five, Gino,” she snapped. “Tell me what happened. Someone got hurt in my store.” She turned to me. “Did you let a customer in?”
“Of course not,” I assured her and then looked over at Gino expectantly, but he made no attempt to continue. Thanks a lot. It was probably better to just spit it out. “I found Daphne Daniels lying in one of the aisles when I got here. She’s been dead for several hours.”
Gabby put a hand to her mouth and staggered backward. Gino reached out to help steady her as a strangled cry broke from between her lips. “No way. How did she die? And how did she get in here?”
I shrugged. “Maybe she found your key last night.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Gabby said. “Why would she come back here? Preston’s books had all sold out. There was no reason for her to be here. Did she leave something behind?”
A police officer I hadn’t seen before tapped on the door and motioned to Gino. “Sorry to interrupt, Detective Mancusi, but can I have a word with you?”
Gino pressed his lips together and nodded. “Excuse me for a second, ladies.” He and the officer walked into the Self-Help aisle where they continued speaking in hushed voices so we couldn’t hear.
Gabby and I followed them into the store, and she immediately sank into the chair Preston had used for his signing last night. The pillows were still there. “Why? Why did this happen? Couldn’t she have picked somewhere else to die?”
“Gabs!” I was horrified by her choice of words.
She shot me a sheepish look. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Look, I know we never liked each other, and I’m sorry she’s dead. But if anyone finds out that she died here, I might as well shut the doors forever.”
It Cannoli Be Murder Page 5
