Publishable by Death

by A C F Bookens

  “That may be a bit of an exaggeration. But anyway, that’s another story for another time.” I was desperate to avoid any talk of my life back in San Francisco. Too much baggage there to foist on a guy I could really like. I didn’t want to scare him off. “We have a murder here, now, and it happened in my store. That makes it personal.”

  “Now, there’s a question,” Walter said as he got up to grab the pot of decaf coffee. “Do you think the person planned the murder for your store? “

  “No, definitely not. Stevensmith wasn’t hit in my store. She just came to hide there.”

  Stephen took a long sip of his scalding hot coffee and asked, “But did she come to die in your store on purpose?”

  I shuddered. “I certainly hope not.” I looked down at the hand-thrown coffee mug that I’d picked up in a little pottery studio when Mart and I had taken a weekend trip to the Shenandoah National Park over the winter. “But I hadn’t thought of that. Is that possible? Can someone with a serious head injury think that clearly to pick a specific place to die?”

  Daniel put his hand over mine, and I felt all the blood rush to my face. It didn’t help that Mart, Walter, and Stephen all kicked my leg at the same moment. “I expects she just happened to be close by, saw the back door, and hid anywhere she could. She probably didn’t even know where she was.”

  I resisted the urge to pull my hand away from Daniel’s. I loved the feel of it there, but I didn’t love the way my friends were ogling our hands. I stayed still and smiled at him. “Thanks. I expect you’re right.” I gave his fingers a little squeeze and then slid my hand into my lap. “That does beg the question, though. Where did she get attacked?”

  Mart was up before I finished my exhale following my question. “Let’s go find out,” she said as she handed me my scarf.

  “What?” I looked down at the blue knitted band and back at my friend. “What?! No. We aren’t going to try to find where the murder happened. Not at nine o’clock at night. No.”

  But I could see that Walter had already slid on his leather bomber jacket, and Stephen was easing his chair back from the table. Only Daniel and I were still sitting there, and even he looked like he wanted to get up.

  “I see I have no say here. Alright, let’s go.” I wrapped the scarf around my neck and pulled on my peacoat. We gave Mayhem and Taco the hamburger that Stephen and Walter had cooked just for them and headed toward the door. I was bringing up the rear so I could lock the door behind us, but Daniel lingered back and turned to me just as I reached the door

  “I’m in for whatever adventure this is, but I want you to be careful, okay?” His eyes were soft, and the gentleness of his voice almost brought me to tears.

  “Okay. I will.” I smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Then, he took my hand and squeezed as we went out the door.

  The night was crisp and clear. In our part of town, the streetlights were few and far between, so we could see thousands of stars overhead. The cold air and the starshine made us all a little playful as we skipped and laughed our way back to Main Street. Daniel and I opened the front door and disarmed the alarm at the back of the shop while Stephen, Walter, and Mart headed around back from the outside to take a look at the parking lot. We were just about through the store when I heard Mart exclaim, “Oh no.”

  I ran the last few steps only to find the back door wide open, the security bar popped free from the door jamb.

  “Holy crap,” Walter said. “It looks like a bear tried to take your door off.”

  Daniel knelt down and looked closely at the door jamb. “Only if a bear uses a crow bar.”

  “A crow bar?” I knelt down and looked. Sure enough, there were scraps and dents in the metal door frame. Someone had pried the door open and forced the security bar loose.

  “Clearly, someone desperately needed a copy of John Grisham’s new book immediately,” Stephen said wryly. Then, he looked at me said, “You have insurance. It’ll cover this.”

  I nodded. “It will, but why would someone break into my bookstore? And why didn’t the alarm go off?”

  “That’s an easy one,” Mart said, holding up some wires that had been pulled out of a box on the wall.

  “Seriously? The alarm company put the junction box for your system on the outside of the building?” Daniel sounded angry. “Tomorrow, I’ll talk with them. Tonight, let’s just get this secure and call the sheriff.”

  I couldn’t help but smile when he looked at me and said, “I mean, if that’s okay with you, Harvey. It’s your shop. This just makes me so mad.”

  “I think that’s a good plan. But while we’re back here, we might as well do what we came to do.” I tried to sound confident because I really did want to look around, but I could feel my heart at the back of my throat.

  Stephen acted as if he was holding a magnifying glass up to his eye. “I’m on the hunt for clues.”

  “Okay, you guys look around. I’ll go inside and call the sheriff.” I started for the door, but Walter grabbed my arm.

  “Maybe you should stay out here. We don’t know that whoever did this is gone.” Walter said as he handed me his cell phone. I made the call, and then we all stood close together in the back parking lot until Sheriff Mason arrived in a cruiser with Deputy Williams in another car close behind him.

  We told him what we’d found, and the deputy took some photos and then dusted for prints. Meanwhile, the sheriff took us all inside and had me look for anything that was missing. “I know you may not notice if a particular book is gone—”

  Mart interrupted him. “Oh, Harvey will notice.”

  I nodded. “I straighten the shelves every night. I should be able to see any gaps.” I took a quick lap around the small shop, but I didn’t notice any books missing. I was just heading back to the café to let the sheriff know when I saw that the storeroom door was ajar. I was certain I’d shut it when I closed the store.

  I got Daniel’s attention, and he and the sheriff came over. I pointed at the door.

  Mason looked at the door and then back at me. “Again?” He let out a heavy sigh and used his boot to push open the door.

  The lights were on, but other than that – I always turned them off; I couldn’t afford any extra pennies on the electric bill – nothing looked out of place. “Looks fine,” I said when the sheriff looked my way again.

  “Okay. Humor me, though, and take a walk around.” He looked at Daniel. “You’ll stay with her?”

  “Of course,” Daniel said with a firm nod.

  I had to duck behind a stack of boxes to hide my grin, and when I did, I saw a small puddle of water. I looked up to be sure the ceiling wasn’t leaking and breathed a sigh of relief when I didn’t see any drops. Roof leaks are expensive. “Daniel, would you mind taking a look?”

  He came over from the door, and when I pointed, he laid a gentle hand on my back as he bent down to study the water. I felt my heartbeat quicken.

  “Water?”

  “Yeah, but not from the roof I don’t think.”

  “Weird.” He looked up, too. “Yeah, I don’t see any sign of water up there.”

  “Maybe from someone’s shoes or something?”

  “Could be. But it’s not raining, so I don’t know.”

  He gave me a sideways grin. “Maybe it’s like that old riddle, and it was an icicle and now the murder weapon has melted.”

  He chuckled. “If Stevensmith had been stabbed, I might think you were onto something.” He winked. “That combined with the fact that it’s far too warm for icicles makes me question your theory.”

  I smiled. “Way to crush a girl’s dreams.”

  “Sometimes the truth hurts.” He bent down and put a finger in the water and then touched the tip of his finger to his tongue. I would have been grossed out if I hadn’t thought about doing the same thing. “Just water,” he said.

  “So odd.”

  He nodded, and we headed out of the storeroom, turning off the light and closing the door
behind us. We made our way to the front of the store, where the sheriff and our friends waited. “Alright, so we’ll patrol through overnight and come take a closer look at things in the morning.” Until then, we’ve put a big old padlock on the back door – your insurance should cover the repairs for that, too, Harvey – to keep it secure. Just be sure to call your alarm company first thing since you won’t have a second egress if there’s a fire.”

  “Oh Lord, please, let’s hope we don’t also add a fire to a murder and a break-in,” Mart said. “I’ll come in tomorrow and handle that stuff.” She pulled me close in a side-armed hug.

  “And we’re here, too, so we’ll help in the shop and keep an eye out for suspicious folks, too.” Stephen winked at the sheriff.

  “You have good friends, Harvey.”

  “I do. Thanks, Sheriff.”

  “Ready to lock up?” Mason held the door open for everyone but Mart and me. I wanted to do a last pass through the store, be sure everything was closed up tight The two of us went to the back door and doublechecked the lock. Then, I made sure some lights were on in both the shop and the café. As we headed toward the front door, Mart stopped me with a hand on my arm. “We did find that,” she pointed to the right, “but I don’t know if it’s anything. So I wanted you to see it just in case it’s nothing.”

  Behind the free-standing shelf that held biographies and memoirs, she had propped up a thin umbrella with a long, black handle. “Mart, we need to tell the sheriff—“

  “We will, tomorrow.”

  I could see Daniel’s face under the street lamp outside, and he seemed a little nervous. “Tonight, we’ve had enough.” She gave me a little shove toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  I started to hesitate, but the store was locked up tight, and I knew Williams would be stopping by on patrol. I decided I could call the sheriff first thing, even before the alarm company.

  We scooted out, and the little bell above the door was still ringing as I locked it.

  The next morning, I had this awful feeling that the umbrella was going to be gone and I had lost valuable evidence for the investigation, so I gobbled down a bowl of cereal and sprinted with Mayhem to the shop before the sun was even up all the way.

  When I spun around the corner of the biography shelf, I was relieved to see the umbrella still there, just as it had been. I led Mayhem around the store just to be sure we were all clear and checked the lock at the back. Everything was as it should be, well, except for the fact that someone had been murdered in my shop and there’d been a break-in. Otherwise, everything was fine.

  I grabbed a plastic bag from under the counter and went to scoop up the umbrella. I didn’t know that there was any value in not leaving my fingerprints – after all, Mart had been carrying the thing in her bare hands – but figured better safe than sorry. As I picked it up, I noticed a small puddle on the wooden floor beneath where it had stood. I glanced at the umbrella and back at the puddle. For the most part, the umbrella itself was dry, but down in the tip, I could see little glistens of water droplets. This was the source of the puddle in the storeroom, I was sure of it.

  The sheriff needed to know, and I had delayed long enough. I gave the sheriff’s office a ring, and the person on duty said he’d be over shortly. In the meantime, I had some puzzling to do. The umbrella was what the person had broken in to get, clearly, but then why had they dropped it out back? And why was it wet?

  I had an inkling of the first answer – from the description it seemed likely this was the murder weapon. The thin, cylindrical handle was made of some sort of metal coated in a thin cover of what felt like black rubber that reminded me of the spray stuff a lot of the folks with pick-up trucks used to protect their beds from scratches. Maybe the sheriff had found traces of that rubber in Stevensmith’s wound or maybe they had done a mold of the injury . . . I stopped myself before I let my fascination with TV dramas lead me too far into things I didn’t really want to think about.

  I had just finished making a pot of coffee in the café when I heard a knock at the door and saw the sheriff waving a small, white bag in front of his face. I smiled – next to Rocky’s Mom’s cinnamon rolls, the sausage-egg-and-cheese biscuits from the gas station up the road were the best breakfast in town. I felt my stomach rumble – cereal was just a teaser of a breakfast.

  “Thought you might need fortification,” the sheriff said as I unlocked the door. “Now, where’s this mysterious item you found in your snooping?”

  I blushed. “We were just curious,” I said as I led us to the table at the front of the café.

  “You know what happened to the cat?”

  I shivered. I did know. “It’s right here,” I said and gestured to the umbrella I’d propped against the table. “I think it’s what left a puddle in the storeroom. It left another where Mart set it last night.”

  The sheriff picked up the umbrella in his gloveless hands, confirming my guess that fingerprints were a moot point, and looked up at me. “Smart move not to call me back last night. I imagine whoever cared enough to break in accidentally dropped this when you and your friends showed up. It’s best they not know we recovered it.”

  “A bit of luck, that. I was just sleepy and figured you were, too. “

  “Courtesy and good rest will carry you a long way in this world,” the sheriff said through a mouthful of biscuit. “What puzzles me is the water. You’re sure this wasn’t here before?”

  I took a minute to think about the storeroom over the last few days. “I don’t think so, but I can’t be totally sure. I’ve been in and out of there several times, of course, but always in a hurry or with my arms full. Not sure I would have noticed it behind the boxes where it seems like it was. We should ask Rocky. Her café supplies are in there, too.”

  “I will ask Rocky, Ms. Super Sleuth. Leave the police work to me, okay?”

  I tilted my head and said, “Sure,” with a wide grin.

  “It’s like talking to a brick wall,” the sheriff muttered with a small smile. “I expect you know this is probably the murder weapon, right?”

  “I wondered. Right shape?”

  “Looks like it. Heavy enough, too,” he said as he dropped the handle into his hand a couple of times. “And it’s long, so someone smaller could get a lot of leverage if they swung it like a bat.”

  I cringed. The image of that happening in my storeroom made me a little queasy. “So a woman isn’t out of the question.”

  “Nope. Not at all.”

  I sighed. I didn’t like the idea of anyone murdering anyone, but a woman committing murder felt a little worse to me than if a man had done it, like a strike against the sisterhood or something.

  “Any news on that orange paper?” I asked with what I felt like was a casual air.

  The sheriff was on to me, though. “You mean besides the flowers at Heron’s Farm Stand, the art in Divina’s studio, and the old menus from Chez Cuisine.”

  I laughed. “Right. Besides that?”

  “Nope, Ms. Super Sleuth, I believe you have found our best leads there, but nothing has turned up yet.”

  I nodded as he stood and took the umbrella. “Mind if I duck out the back? I’d rather not have all of town see me carrying an umbrella on a perfectly sunny day.”

  I looked out the window and realized the sun was up, and it was gorgeous, the kind of spring morning that made me want to plant a million flowers. “Sure thing. Need me to unlock it.”

  “Nope, got my key right here.” I’d been grateful when he’d told me he kept a spare key to the padlock, just in case. It felt like I had back-up.

  “Be wise, okay, Harvey? All joking aside. Someone is very invested,” he gestured toward the shop’s back door, “in not being caught. Don’t go riling folks up, okay?”

  I nodded. I knew he was right. I needed to be more discreet . . . but just how is one discreet in a town where everyone knows everyone and everyone’s business?

  I spent the next couple of hours ordering books and
checking the alphabetization on the shelves, so by the time Mart and Rocky arrived a little before ten, I felt totally calm. One of the reasons I had wanted to open this store was that it was tangible in ways that my previous job as a fundraiser for nonprofits hadn’t been. For one, I could see what I was selling. I loved e-books, too, but there was nothing like a physical book to soothe my soul. I was looking into selling e-books through our shop website, too, but I knew I wanted to focus most of my time – and money – on the print copies that filled these shelves.

  Plus shelving – it was like meditation to me. Give me a big library cart full of picture books and leave me to it . . . I’ll be calm and rested by day’s end. Today, though, I didn’t have a cart of books to shelve, and my frazzled nerves sure could have used them.

  Mart wasted no time calling the insurance and alarm companies about getting the alarm system and door repaired. She gave me a wink as I turned on the final banks of lights and flipped on the cute neon sign that featured Mayhem with her head resting on a few books below the word Open. Stephen and Walter had commissioned that for me, and it was still my favorite moment of the morning – to pull the little chain and light up that sign.

  Woody came by just as I was heading to the café for my morning latte, so I got him one, too, and assured him that everything was fine and that we hadn’t been robbed. The grapevine was already going strong.

  “Okay, Harvey,” he said. “I’m not going to ask any more questions then. I get the sense that it’s best to leave things where they lie. But you call me if you need anything.” He looked at me seriously. “I mean that.”

  Spontaneously, I gave him a hug, and he squeezed me tight before heading to the front door with his to-go cup.

  I was heading back to the register with a fresh latte for me and one for Mart when I heard the bell ring and saw two older women, one white and one Asian, come in the store and head right for the fiction section. In my shop, I didn’t divide out genre fiction – horror, mystery, fantasy – from literary fiction like some stores did. Books were books, and I wanted everybody to get equal billing. No second-class books here. I couldn’t wait to see what they picked up – at least I hoped they picked something up.