Bookman Dead Style

by Paige Shelton

  “What’s wrong, Marion?”

  “We’re okay, but there’s a problem. Chester told me to tell you there’s something wrong with the red Royal, but he wouldn’t say what. He’s also called Jodie. I have no idea what’s going on, but there’s a guy here who’s really . . . adamant.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen tops.”

  At least everyone was okay, but I sped up as I wondered who the guy was and what he had to do with the fortune Chester had hidden under the Royal.

  12

  “Well, I’m his brother,” the man said as he leaned against the back counter and crossed his arms in front of himself. He wore a bright white ski jacket, dark denim jeans, and a one-day beard that oddly made him seem too groomed.

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  Chester, Marion, and Toby stood behind the counter. Coincidentally, they all had their arms crossed in front of themselves too. Baskerville alternately walked and sat around my feet. He hadn’t meowed, but I could tell he was bothered by our well-dressed visitor.

  “This man claims to be the brother of the man who gave us the tins,” Chester said.

  “Therefore, I should be able to retrieve the money,” he said bitterly.

  I had no idea how heated the words between everyone must have gotten, but Marion wouldn’t have called me if things hadn’t seemed to be getting out of hand, and I sensed leftover heat in the room.

  “Where’s Jodie?” I said.

  “Busy. Creighton’s on his way,” Marion said.

  “Who are you? I mean, what’s your name?” I said to the man.

  “John Nelson. My brother’s name is David. David told me to come get the money.”

  David? Was that the name Seth mentioned? It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t be sure. We’d been telling each other the L word and that had seemed much more important than the name of the man who’d given Seth the tins. “Do you know how much there is?” I said.

  “No. We weren’t told. My brother told me to come up and get it.”

  “Up from Salt Lake City? That was quick,” I said.

  “I was already in Star City.”

  I looked at Chester. “There’s no way they would have known unless they’d heard from Seth, but not knowing the amount . . .”

  “Something doesn’t feel right. We’re going to call Seth and we’re going to wait for Creighton,” Chester said.

  “This is ridiculous,” John said.

  “Not really,” I said. “Surely you can wait a few more minutes. If the . . . contents are yours, then you should be grateful we’re being careful.”

  John grumbled.

  “All right, I’ll call Seth,” I said as I looked at Chester again.

  John grumbled once more, something between a tsk and a loud, heavy sigh. I looked at him and pushed up my glasses. Whatever wonky feeling Chester had been having about this guy just spread to me too. His frustration wasn’t in line with the situation.

  Unfortunately, I had to leave another message. There were some spotty cell coverage areas on Seth’s route. I kept John in the corner of my vision and was almost certain he relaxed when I didn’t receive an immediate answer. The wonky feeling grew.

  Creighton walked through the door a second later. I met him at the front of the store and told him what was going on.

  “You found a hundred thousand dollars and you didn’t think to call the police?” he said with whispered perplexity.

  “Correct.”

  “That was not very smart.”

  “As much as I’d like to argue with you, Creighton, I’m beginning to think you might be right.”

  “All right. Give me a minute with him,” he said before he turned and walked toward John and the others. I followed behind.

  “Sir, may I see some identification?” Creighton said.

  “No, you may not. I don’t have to show the police my identification.”

  “That is true. However, it might help to clear up the situation if we could confirm that you are who you say you are.”

  “I’m not showing you my ID.”

  “Maybe you should just leave,” Toby interjected.

  We all looked at him.

  “Who are you?” Creighton asked.

  “Uh. Toby Lavery. Here, I’ll show you my ID.” He reached for his back pocket.

  “I don’t need to see your ID,” Creighton said. He looked at me.

  “I met him this morning outside the police station. I offered him some hot chocolate,” I said.

  Creighton frowned and shook his head once. “Well, all right. Young man, I don’t need to see your ID, but it would be helpful if I could see yours, sir.”

  “I’m serious. Maybe you should just leave,” Toby said again.

  I wondered if he was trying to impress Marion. Unfortunately, he didn’t pick up on the fact that he was doing the opposite of impressing Creighton.

  Creighton held his hand up. “I’ll handle this.” When Toby nodded, Creighton turned back to the man in the white coat.

  “Look, this is ridiculous. I’ll come back later, after you talk to that . . . Seth,” John said, his words quick and, I thought, lined with concern.

  He surprised us all by stepping around Creighton, who didn’t make any effort to get out of his way, and marching quickly out of the shop.

  “That was weird,” I said.

  “I didn’t like him,” Chester said.

  “That was kind of scary,” Marion said.

  “He’s gone,” Toby said with a shy smile at Marion.

  Oh dear, I thought.

  “This whole situation baffles me,” Creighton said. “Chester, Clare, we need to have a private discussion.”

  What we’d done—not call the police when we’d found the money—wasn’t necessarily illegal, but it skirted along the edge of theft, even if the tins had been a gift and even if our plan was to return the money as soon as possible. If Creighton hadn’t believed that we were attempting to contact the person who’d given us the tins, our irresponsible ways would have also seemed suspicious. A deceased woman in the mix didn’t help with our seemingly naive maneuver. It didn’t take long for Chester and me to answer Creighton’s questions. He processed the tin and the money. I wasn’t sad to see him bag up the hundred thousand dollars to take with him, but I was going to miss the cute German tin.

  Just as he was about to leave, my phone rang. Seth.

  “Hang on, Creighton. Maybe we can get this cleared up quickly,” I said. I hit the answer button. “Hey, thanks for calling back. Quick question—what’s the name of the guy who gave you the tins?”

  “Daryl Brewsberry. I left a message, but I haven’t heard back from him yet.”

  I was stunned momentarily speechless as I blinked a million times and felt the weight of the ramifications we would have faced if we’d given the money to the other man. We wouldn’t have given him the money, but still, what if we had?

  “Not David, but Daryl?” I said, enunciating the names slowly.

  “Yes.”

  I was still stunned.

  “Clare?” Seth said.

  “Clare?” Creighton piped up.

  “Clare?” Chester added.

  I swallowed and told Seth I’d see him later. When I hung up the phone, I said to Chester and Creighton, “I think we have a problem.”

  13

  “How in the world did he—I’ll call him John, but I’m sure that’s not his real name—even know about the tin?” Chester said.

  Creighton hadn’t left. He, Chester, and I were still in the workshop, all of us having been moved up to Creighton’s intensity level. I’d told them the name Seth had given me and Creighton had stepped away from us for a moment and made two phone calls, neither of which I paid any attention to.

  “Do you suppose we’re being bu
gged or something?” I said at a normal volume with no regard to the idea that what I said might actually be a possibility.

  “Why would anyone bug us?” Chester said, equally as clueless.

  “Other than Seth, did either of you tell anyone about the money?” Creighton said when he rejoined us.

  “No,” I said.

  “No,” Chester said. “Wait.”

  “What?” Creighton said.

  “I think I said something . . . like . . . oh dear,” Chester said.

  “What?” Creighton said again.

  “I didn’t know the young man was still in the store. I thought Marion was alone up front. I said something like . . . oh, goodness . . . something like ‘Marion, your aunt found a wonderful surprise in one of the tins.’” Chester frowned and blinked at Creighton.

  Creighton didn’t waste a moment, but turned and marched to the front of the store. Chester and I followed behind.

  “I’ve changed my mind, young man. I’d like to see some identification,” he said to Toby.

  Marion was behind the counter, Toby in front with his arms on it, leaning toward Marion. We’d interrupted a friendly moment, but both of their smiles disappeared with Creighton’s tone.

  “Sure,” he said. He reached into his back pocket. “Oh. Uh, it’s not in my pocket. It’s just in my van.” His face became shockingly pale. “It’s parked not far from here.”

  “Let’s go,” Creighton said.

  “All right.” Toby sent Marion a quick smile that was probably meant to be reassuring but was more along the lines of scared-to-death.

  We watched as they left the shop, all of us with wide, confused eyes.

  “What’s going on?” Marion asked when they were out of sight.

  I gave Marion the details of the sequence of events as we knew them.

  “But I didn’t even hear Chester. I mean, I heard him, but I didn’t understand him,” Marion said. “And Toby was with me the whole time. He couldn’t have heard either, and he never did anything to let someone else know there might be a treasure in the back of the shop. He just talked to me and then we went back and got some more hot chocolate. He was never on his phone or anything. Not even texting. He didn’t even look at it, Aunt Clare. He had nothing to do with it. Why didn’t Creighton just ask me those questions?”

  “He will, I’m sure,” I said. “One step at a time.”

  Marion blinked and sighed with the drama of an indignant teenager who was sure she’d just been wronged.

  “It’ll be okay, Marion. Creighton’s a good cop,” Chester said, but his eyes were focused toward the front of the store. He’d plunked his hands on his hips and chewed his bottom lip.

  “What is it?” I said to him.

  “Nothing. Just trying to understand. Nothing. Excuse me.” Chester turned and went back to the workshop.

  “Aunt Clare, do you think someone is listening to us, maybe somehow watching us?” Marion asked in an appropriately quiet tone.

  “I don’t. I think we’re a little paranoid because we can’t understand what happened. Once we know the specifics, things will become obvious and less weird. We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about Toby. He’ll check out fine and be back. The best thing to do is to get busy on something. That’s the only thing to do really.”

  She wanted to protest, but she knew that I was still her boss. Kind of. At least when Chester wasn’t around or if he felt like reading instead of paying attention to the store. Actually, her job was pretty secure. It would take a huge infraction to get her booted. We really could use some help.

  Nevertheless, she forced a strained smile and moved to her computer just as the front door opened again.

  “Need help, Clare?” Chester called from the back.

  “Go tell Chester I’m fine,” I said to Marion, who was relieved to put off getting to work a few minutes longer.

  “Howie, good to see you again,” I said as he approached.

  “Hello.” He flashed a quick, unfriendly smile.

  “How can I help you?” I pushed up my glasses and forced my shoulders straight and tall. I wanted to put my hands on my hips to steel myself, but I resisted the urge.

  “I need to know more about why you were talking to me about Matt.”

  “What do you need to know?”

  “You talked to him, or at least that’s how it seems. Could you please explain the circumstances of how you got to see Matt?”

  Without a doubt, I didn’t trust Howie, but I knew that there was no reason to trust any of these Hollywood people who’d come into my life.

  I sighed and said, “Sundance.”

  “What?”

  I looked around and then repeated the word.

  “So, I can trust you,” he said.

  It wasn’t a question, but I nodded just the same.

  “That changes everything. Okay, what does he want you to tell me?”

  “He wanted you to go see him. He wanted a lawyer.”

  “I see. That’s it?” Howie didn’t commit one way or another regarding whether he’d tried to visit Matt.

  “Did you try to see him?” I asked.

  He still didn’t answer. Or if he did, it was with one quick shake of his head. Or was that a nod?

  “He gave me his ticket to the party.” I pulled it out of my pocket. “I visited him when he was in jail here in town. My friend is a police officer and I’d met Matt. Anyway, after he’d been in the store, I thought I felt a small kinship or maybe even friendship there. Admittedly, a little weird, but that’s what happened.”

  “Why does he want you to go to the party?”

  I shrugged. “Kindness of his heart, I guess. For talking to him, checking on him.”

  “He’s in jail, arrested for possibly murdering his sister, and he gives you his party ticket. Doesn’t jibe. What’s really up?”

  “I don’t have any idea, Howie. It would be difficult to replay the moments with Matt in the jail, but it seemed like an easy transition. For whatever reason.”

  We fell into one of those quiet spells where it’s clear that the first one who speaks loses the power in the conversation. I clenched my jaw and waited.

  “Well, I suppose it’s fine,” Howie said a moment later. “I wish I knew what he wanted me to do.”

  “To go see him, to get him an attorney,” I said, attempting not to punch him in the arm or say, “For goodness’ sake.”

  “Has to be more than that.”

  I shrugged. This was getting old. “Did you try to see him?”

  Howie just looked at me.

  “Sundance, remember,” I said.

  “So, you know that polygamist group over there?” He nodded in the direction of the valley.

  I couldn’t help myself—I laughed. “Howie, you couldn’t care less about Matt, could you? You just wanted to come in and talk to me about the Christiansens.”

  “No, that’s not it,” Howie said.

  I put my hand on his arm. “I’m not going to ask anyone there to meet with you. I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t do that no matter the circumstances. They will talk to you if they want to.”

  “Right. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night at the party, then.” He turned to leave.

  “Will you try to see Matt today?” I said as he walked away.

  “I doubt I’ll have time to run down to Salt Lake City today or even the next few days. Busy, busy, busy.” He waved backward as he went through the front door.

  “What a jerk,” I muttered. The adrenaline that had shot through me because of our mystery visitor had now transformed into a sizzle of anger. Howie had been trying to play me, use me. He couldn’t have cared less about his locked-away friend or associate or however they looked at their relationship. I didn’t understand why anyone would want someone like Howie to assist with his career.


  My phone buzzed across the back counter.

  “Jodie?” I said as I answered it. “What’s up?”

  She whistled. “Good gravy on biscuits, girlfriend, you are in the middle of more messes than a platter of scrambled eggs. What’s going on? Are the planets aligned funny? Or is that unaligned? Shoot, I have no idea. But I need to know what’s going on. You and I will be going out for coffee in about thirty seconds.”

  I could already hear the siren.

  “I’ll be ready,” I said before I hung up. Jodie’s analogies were unlike her, but they made me hungry. I hoped for more than coffee. “Marion,” I called toward the back of the store. “Need you up front.”

  “Toby seems fine. So far,” Jodie said after she slurped a gulp from her hot chocolate. With the back of her hand she wiped off the whipped cream that had landed on her nose.

  “That’s a bigger relief than I thought it might be.”

  “Right. He’s got a crush on your niece.”

  “How in the world did you figure that out?”

  “He told Creighton. Folded like a cheap suit when Creighton gave him his evil eye.” Jodie laughed. “Of course, for Toby, folding only meant telling the police about the fight he had with his mom before he left Los Angeles, his desire to become a famous gossip blogger, and his crush on Marion. That’s as tainted as his young life might be. He spilled what he thought were his darkest secrets.”

  “Poor kid.”

  “Yeah.” The humor left Jodie’s eyes, slowly. “I did feel a little bad for him. As for this John fella, we have no idea who he was, but he isn’t John Brewsberry, we’re pretty sure.”

  “Did you find Daryl?”

  “We did. He’s on his way to town. He’d already made it up to the Utah-Idaho border. He lives in Boise and was on his way back there. He had no idea his mother stashed the money in the tin. He’s in shock. What a surprise, you know. Mourning the passing of your mother and then discovering something that meant she had a secret of some sort.”

  “You’ll give it to him?”

  Jodie took another sip, this time without the whipped cream reaching her nose. “Not that easy at this point, though it’s not too difficult. His mother died, which means there’s an estate. Even though he had power of attorney over her, once she died, that was no longer in effect. We did a quick search and couldn’t find anywhere else the money came from—you know, like if it had been stolen or something. There’s some legal stuff to deal with now.”