“He was in your bedroom?”
“Of course, dear.” She giggled in a way that made my stomach do a flip. It sounded bubbly, lustful, and just a little crazy. I so didn’t want to think about what she did with the cardboard cutout. “I was lying there this morning, looking at him, when I realized how fitting it would be to bring him in here. I mean, the store is named after one of his books, right? He belongs here. And what with having the book club meetings here, and us reading one of his books, it just made sense.”
“Wait, what?” My mind was unsuccessfully trying to catch up. I was still stuck on the fact she kept him in her bedroom. I mean, ew. “What book club?” And where had she gotten a cardboard cutout of my dad? I didn’t even know such a thing existed.
Rita waved a hand at me. “Oh, it’s no matter.” She glanced over her shoulder. Andi Caldwell and Georgina McCully—Rita’s elderly gossip buddies—were standing near the two stairs that led up to the bookstore portion of the store. They were beside a man and woman I didn’t know. “I best get over there,” she said. “It’s the first day, you know!”
She carried my dad over to the plate glass window and set him up so he could look out into the street before she walked over to where the others waited. Together they went upstairs, with me and my confusion forgotten.
I stood at the counter, staring dumbly at the cardboard cutout. “What just happened?”
“Rita happened.” Lena rolled her eyes as she stepped behind the counter. She walked over to the register to take an order.
Vicki came sauntering down the stairs and walked over to me then. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked. “You’re looking a little pale.”
“I’m not sure.” I tore my eyes away from the cardboard Dad. “What’s going on?” I nodded toward where Rita and the others were talking with another group of five strangers.
Vicki glanced back before turning to me with a grin. “Rita asked if they could have their book club meeting here and I told her it would be okay. I figured it couldn’t hurt business. In fact, it will probably help. She brought a few chairs to set up in the bookstore so they won’t disrupt anything down here.” Vicki paused and frowned at my expression. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“I . . . Yeah.” I was still reeling from Rita’s assault and didn’t know what else to say. I mean, it wasn’t like having more people in the building was a bad thing. If they ordered coffee for their meetings, that could only help, right?
“Okay, good.” Vicki breathed a sigh of relief as she tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “She asked me on your day off and I didn’t want to call you and bother you with it. It seemed harmless enough, especially since you are a part of her writers’ group and all.”
“It’s okay.” And really, outside the cardboard Dad in the window, I didn’t mind it all that much. Rita practically lived here, anyway. She spent a large portion of her day, sitting in the corner of the store, typing away at her little pink notebook, torturing innocent prose.
Rita’s arms suddenly flew up into the air and she stamped her foot. She said something harsh to the man in front of her, who responded in kind. Georgina and Andi stood beside the two strangers behind Rita, while another four people I didn’t know stood behind the man Rita was yelling at. They were leaning forward as they argued, fists clenched, eyebrows bunched. It looked like a scene out of one of those movies where a pair of street gangs would argue, right before breaking out into song and dance.
“I think I best go up there and see what’s going on,” I said, slipping around the corner. I doubted Rita and her crew would be dancing any time soon; this fight looked as if it might actually come to blows.
“I’ll come with you,” Vicki said.
We marched across the store, leaving Lena to handle the register. She didn’t seem to mind. Ever since we hired her, she’d focused hard on her job. She might look like trouble with all of the scrapes and bruises, and now with the purple hair, but she was truly a good kid. I couldn’t have asked for better.
“I don’t see what the problem is,” Rita said as we neared. “We agreed to the book months ago!” She waved a paperback copy of Murder in Lovetown in front of the man’s face. It was one of my dad’s earlier works, one that he was embarrassed of even today.
“We didn’t know you’d be holding the thing in a store named after the author!” the man practically shouted. He was about five and a half feet tall, weighed no more than 120 pounds, and parted his hair right down the middle in a vain attempt to conceal his rapidly retreating hairline. “We believe another book should be chosen.”
“Isn’t it a bit late for that?” Rita asked with a smug smile. “We’ve already started reading and have had the first of our local discussions.”
The man’s jaw clenched as he leaned forward and grabbed a silver teapot from the table in front of him. His fingers went white where he gripped it and I had a sudden vision of him whacking Rita upside the head with it. I rushed forward and snatched it out of his hand before anything unseemly could happen.
“Calm down, everyone,” I said, holding the teapot behind my back, out of everyone’s reach. I looked from face to face. “Anyone want to tell me what is going on?”
Rita straightened and thrust her impressive bust outward, practically poking the man in the eye. “Albert here doesn’t approve of where we are holding our meetings. He thinks we should read something else.”
“It gives you an unfair advantage!” Albert said at a near whine.
“Why don’t you read something else?” I asked. “Like Agatha Christie? She’s pretty popular.” And she wasn’t my dad.
“Pah!” Rita waved a hand dismissively at me. “It’s too late to make a change now.” Her gaze moved past Albert, to a man standing behind him. He was closely holding a woman wearing a pearl necklace and diamonds on her fingers, as if protecting her. “Besides, they are the ones who should be ashamed. There are rules to membership and he hasn’t lived in Cherry Valley long enough!” She nodded toward the man.
“Rules? Cherry Valley?” I was operating at a loss once again.
Rita sighed and gave me a pitying look. “It’s simple, really. Each town’s team can have five members, but the members have to be a citizen of the town for at least one year before they can be an official part of the book club competition.”
“Competition?”
“We talk about the book and whoever understands it and can articulate it best, wins the prize for their town,” Albert put in.
“Prize?” I wanted to break out of my rut of asking one-word questions, so I added, “What prize?”
“The silver teapot, silly!” Rita said with a gesture to the teapot in my hand.
I looked at Vicki, who simply shrugged. Who’d ever heard of a book club competition? Without having to ask, I knew Rita had been the one to come up with it. No one else would have thought of something so . . . odd.
I knew I was going to regret it, but I asked anyway. “How do you determine who the winner is?”
She gave me a look like I’d just asked her if the world was round. It was Albert who answered. “We hold a public discussion. We alternate towns, and Pine Hills has the honor of hosting the event this year. We discuss the book among ourselves during the evening for a week and then we have the big public discussion. Quite a lot of people turn out for it. The crowd votes for the winner.”
I had a hard time believing what I was hearing. I mean, a book club competition. Really? I plowed on. “Doesn’t that skew the results?” They both gave me a blank look. “Won’t the people from Pine Hills vote for the Pine Hills team, and vice versa?”
“Oh no,” Rita said. “This is much too important for that.”
If she said so, I wasn’t going to argue. None of this was making much sense to me.
“So you are going to have the meetings here?” I asked, still trying to feel my way through it.
“We are,” Rita said. “We usually hold them at the library, but Jimmy has kindly agreed to move it here this y
ear.” She leaned toward me as if she was about to share some deep, dark secret. “He’s the local librarian, you know.”
Jimmy gave me something of an annoyed smile, telling me he wasn’t all that happy with the move. He wore a sweater vest and brown slacks with loafers that just about screamed “librarian.” His hair was buzzed short and his jaw square, juxtaposing the nerd with military. He was a good six feet tall and I caught a hint of muscle beneath his plaid shirt.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said in a surprisingly nasal voice. “It’s Jimmy Carlton.” He put his arm around the short, round woman next to him. “And this is my wife, Cindy.”
Since introductions were already started, I turned an expectant look on the Cherry Valley group.
“Vivian Flowers,” the oldest member said with a shrug when my eyes landed on her. She looked to be at least eighty, and probably weighed not much more. Her dress was covered in white lilies. I wondered if she chose it because of her name or if she simply liked the pattern.
The next man in line squinted at me through black-rimmed thick glasses. “Orville Rush.” He was clutching the paperback copy of his book close to his chest. Even then, his hands shook. His hair was but a wisp on his head.
The tall man Rita had indicated earlier smiled at me. He wore a fedora pulled down low over his eyes and an unbuttoned suit coat over a white shirt. “David Smith.” He tipped his hat toward me and I nearly swooned. The man’s voice did something strange to my insides. He was clearly from across the pond if his accent was any indication.
“Sara Huffington,” the woman with the pearl necklace said in a bored tone of voice. She snuggled in closer to the Brit and promptly ignored the rest of us.
“And as you know, this is Krissy Hancock, daughter to our beloved author.” Rita put an arm around me. “She has kindly agreed to host the event this year, so I do hope you can show her some respect.” The last was aimed at Albert, who looked away, frustrated.
I tore my eyes from David and handed Rita the teapot. “I guess I should get back to work then.” The argument seemed to be over, and I wanted to get as far away from these people as I could before another fight broke out. “It was nice to meet you all.”
“Likewise,” David said in his silky, smooth voice. It was followed by a wink.
I made a little squeak before spinning and hurrying away, Vicki hot on my heels.
“Cute, isn’t he?” she asked as soon as we were back downstairs.
“Uh-huh.” It was all I could manage. I fanned myself off.
“Do you think it will be okay to allow them to have their meetings here? If they argue like that all of the time . . .” Vicki looked worriedly back up the stairs.
“I think they’ll be fine.”
And if it meant I got to sit back and watch David Smith while I worked, I didn’t think I’d mind a little arguing, either. I mean, what could possibly be the harm?
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2015 by Eric S. Moore
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-6177-3751-0
ISBN-10: 1-61773-751-8
First Kensington Mass Market Edition: June 2015
eISBN-13: 978-1-61773-752-7
eISBN-10: 1-61773-752-6
First Kensington Electronic Edition: June 2015
Death by Coffee Page 24
