Death on the Page

by Essie Lang

  He hesitated a minute, and Shelby hoped that meant something. She was disappointed when he shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Did you know about the secret passages?”

  “Yup. At least, it was a rumor, but we all believed it. I hadn’t seen them myself, though.”

  “Did you tell Savannah Page about it?”

  He shook his head. “Like I’m sure I told you last time, I didn’t really talk to her. She found out about them on her own, I guess.”

  Shelby couldn’t think of anything else to ask. It had been a long shot at best. What she’d actually been hoping for was his admitting he’d gotten so carried away talking about the castle that he’d mentioned the secret passages, which seemed less secret by the moment. She thanked him for his time and headed home for a quick lunch.

  At three precisely, Shelby knocked on the front door of Izzy Crocker’s home. She’d decided to drive, since it had appeared to be rather a long walk. Besides, her car needed to be driven occasionally, although she knew that what it really needed was a long run. Like to Clayton or Cape Vincent. One day soon, she promised it, as she surveyed Izzy’s house. From the outside it looked charming, like a picture from a Thomas Kinkade painting. The deep blue of the clapboard siding contrasted vividly with the white trim around the roof, the door, and the windows. Even the shutters were white.

  The yard looked just as inviting, with beds of fall flowers across the front of the house and individual groupings of shrubs and plants scattered seemingly randomly across the lawn, but Shelby realized it had a purposeful look.

  The door was pulled open before she even knocked, and an older woman of medium build, her white hair pulled back into a bun, welcomed her inside. Shelby guessed she was in her sixties or seventies, probably a few years older than her mother would be.

  “I’m Izzy Crocker,” she said, giving Shelby a hug. “You look so much like your mama, I would recognize you in an instant.”

  “Thank you,” Shelby said, suddenly at a loss for words. She’d heard that before, but it still seemed unreal. Any photos she’d seen of her mom since coming back made her feel like she was looking at a stranger. She felt totally detached from the images, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  Over tea and an assortment of sweets, Izzy filled Shelby in on what it was like growing up in Alexandria Bay. Her family had been there for generations and had been involved in everything from farming to shipbuilding, but Izzy had married a banker. Her life had been good, even though they’d stayed in the same town for their entire lives.

  “A banker?” Shelby echoed. “I understand that a banker caught my mother’s eye, too.” There, she’d said it, she’d introduced the topic. She just hoped she was ready to hear what Izzy could tell her. She took a sip of tea and tensed.

  Izzy looked at her and reached over to touch her hand. “That’s right, dear.” She sat back and stared out the window before continuing.

  “Maybe I should start at the beginning. You may get a better sense of who your mom was. We met only a few days after she’d moved here with your dad. They’d been married less than a week and had come straight from a honeymoon weekend in New York City. They actually rented that cottage you see to the left of this house. My papa had originally built it for my older sister and her husband, to help them get a start. Then we, Hector and I, put it up for rent. We’d been married and living in this house about six years at the time.”

  Shelby glanced out the window but realized she’d have to wait until she left to be able to see the cottage. She focused again on Izzy.

  “Your mom was a beauty and, I thought, a social butterfly totally out of her element. There was nothing in Alex Bay to compare to the life she’d known. We became good friends and did a lot of things together, but she was restless, right from the start. At one point, she and Edie opened that store, but I don’t think Merrily lasted more than a week in there. She’d always be wanting to go out to tea, although she seldom entertained. I was sure she thought the cottage was too small and a bit beneath her. I don’t mean to make her sound flighty or vain, but she had been brought up differently from your dad, and they’d been too infatuated with one another to realize it. At least, that’s what I sensed.”

  Izzy stopped her tale long enough to pour herself some more tea after filling Shelby’s cup. After taking a bite of a sugar cookie, she continued.

  “She also loved to go out to dances, and in those days, there were a lot of those held at the community center and also the church basement. Your daddy, though, he wasn’t one to take to the dance floor. But there were a lot of husbands willing to oblige. We wives just sat back and smiled, although I know a few of them were silently fuming. When Merrily got pregnant, she was filled with joy. She was so looking forward to being a mother.”

  Shelby felt a catch in her throat and tears filling her eyes. Why had she left her behind, then?

  “But, you know, after a long dreary winter with little social activity, Merrily became less, well, animated, I guess. She stayed at home and took care of you and really tried to be a good mom, but I could see the gradual change in her. She had several friends, but she started withdrawing from them. I think we stayed close because, well, we lived next door. These days I think they’d diagnose her with a massive case of postpartum depression, which lasted a few years. Until she met Gerald Steiger. He was a banker from Georgia visiting town to do business with my husband. Merrily and Gerald met here one afternoon, and I could see her transforming. He came back to town three more times, and each time I saw his car parked at the cottage. She didn’t talk to me about him, nor did she tell me she was leaving with him. I found a note in my mailbox one afternoon, and that was it. I never heard from her again.”

  Shelby felt the same sorrow that had engulfed her when Edie had first explained what had happened. She couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  “I know it’s not easy to hear, Shelby. She didn’t run away because of your dad or because of you, but because she needed something more, something to keep her alive and vibrant. Like I said, they were just too different to start with.”

  Izzy moved over to sit next to Shelby on the couch and put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s not a story with a happy ending for anyone but her.”

  Shelby thought about it a few minutes and then pulled herself together. “Thank you, Izzy. I needed to hear their story, and now maybe I can start to move beyond it. It came as quite a shock when I found out she hadn’t died when I was younger. That’s what I’d been led to believe.”

  Izzy gave a final squeeze before removing her arm. “Anytime you have any questions, just come on over. In fact, I hope you’ll feel free to come by and we can enjoy afternoon tea again. I’d like to get to know you better, my dear.”

  Shelby nodded, not sure if that would happen. Or maybe it would, once she’d resolved all the ghosts in her life.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chocomania was the first stop for Shelby the next morning. She needed to stock up on fresh truffles both for the store and for herself, particularly after the rough night she’d had. She’d hoped no one would call her because she didn’t want to talk nor explain why she didn’t. Fortunately, she’d had only J.T. demanding her attention. That afternoon visit had been a lot to process, and she was sure there was still a lot more to learn about her mom. Most importantly, why she hadn’t been in touch with her only daughter all these years. Or maybe Shelby wasn’t her only child. Maybe she had a family with her new husband and she wanted to keep that life totally separated from Shelby. So many questions. But she knew Izzy Crocker wasn’t the one to supply those answers. But now, she could get on with things. Like work.

  Like truffles. She waited, debating which flavor would be her special treat for the day, while Erica finished serving an older couple some hot chocolate.

  “I’ll have to try your hot chocolate one day,” Shelby said after Erica greeted her.

  “Pure chocolate. It will rock your world
. Want one now?”

  “Um, no. I’ll save it for a treat on a thoroughly miserable, rainy, foggy day. What I do want is my usual truffle count and a latte. And I’ll also take the order for the store. How was your weekend? Anything special happen?” Like, any word from a certain literary agent?

  Erica shrugged. “Not really. Oh, right, Bryce asked me to dinner on Sunday.”

  “Wow, and was it fun?”

  “I turned him down.”

  “You what? I thought you were ready to go out with him.”

  Erica leaned across the counter and lowered her voice. “Not after the bits of conversation I heard Chief Stone having with him in here on Saturday.”

  “Really, what did she say?” Shelby had lowered her voice as well and felt like a true conspirator.

  “I didn’t hear much, but she did tell him she’d found Savannah Page’s laptop and had gone through it. She said she wanted to know what Bryce had to say for himself. Then she glanced at me and suggested they go to the station to discuss it. So, you see, if he’s in any way connected with the murder, I don’t want to go out with him. Besides, he sort of snuck into town, remember?”

  She sounded so dejected that Shelby reached out and squeezed her hand. “It could be nothing, or it could be something. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry, though, because you both looked interested in each other.”

  Erica sighed. “Story of my life. There’s always something. Now, let me get your order. Do you think you need as many truffles in the store at this time of year?”

  “Oh, they won’t go to waste. Believe me,” Shelby guaranteed, already salivating.

  * * *

  It turned out to be a two-truffle day, which meant not very many customers. After Shelby had straightened the shelves, changed around some displays, and spent far too much time thinking about the murder, thinking about the bookstore, thinking about Zack, and avoiding thinking about her mom, she decided to call Taylor.

  “Hey, Taylor. How are you?” She hoped for good news.

  “Great to hear from you, Shelby. I meant to call. I even thought about coming in today, but I just got too comfortable to even move. And my MIL is even being somewhat agreeable.”

  “You sound tired, and maybe she’s realized what it takes to stay on your good side. I’d think she’d want to do that.”

  Taylor chuckled. “One would think. How are things at the store?”

  “Quiet doesn’t even cover it. But the shelves are sparkling.”

  “Good job. And how is the murder investigation going?”

  “You know me too well. I’m finding out a lot, but I don’t know how it all ties in, if at all. I don’t think I’ll quit my day job, as they say.”

  “Well, Chuck isn’t sharing anything these days. I’ve tried to get him to talk about it, but all he wants to discuss is the baby. Go figure.”

  “Yeah, go figure. I appreciate your efforts, but I don’t want you dwelling on it. You need to be enjoying these last days of freedom.”

  “Ouch. Just wait till you’re a mom, Shelby Cox. I look forward to saying those same words to you.”

  When I’m a mom, Shelby thought later as she locked up the store. That might never happen. It wasn’t something she was working toward, anyway. Not at this point. She was only twenty-nine, after all. Still a lot of time left. She hoped. She wondered if Zack wanted children. That was a conversation they hadn’t had. Yet. That thought brought a smile to her face as she rushed to catch the shuttle.

  * * *

  Shelby noticed Bryce coming out of a shop as she sauntered on her way home. It could have been Chocomania. She hadn’t been paying close attention. That might be interesting. She picked up her pace and met up with him before he could cross the street and head to the hotel.

  “Hi, Bryce. Do you have a minute?”

  “Oh, hi, Shelby. Sorry, I was lost in thought.” He focused on her and smiled. “Anytime. Would you like to go for a coffee, or are you off to a hot date?”

  “Hardly. I’m just getting back from the castle, and yes, a coffee would be great.”

  She noticed he steered her to the Coffee Café across the street rather than to Chocomania. Maybe he was still smarting from Erica’s rejection. She looked around the shop as they entered. They were the only customers. She ordered an espresso, wanting a smaller drink in case the conversation became uncomfortable so she could leave quickly. She tried to formulate a plan. She hadn’t really been thinking ahead when she’d stopped him. But she would make good use of the time.

  “Can I ask you something?” He surprised her by starting the conversation, although his attention was focused on his coffee mug.

  “Sure.”

  “Did Erica say anything about me?” He seemed to be searching her face, looking for any trace of a reaction.

  “Like what?” What to answer. Stall for time. Keep a straight face.

  “I’m not sure. I thought she was interested, but when I asked her out, she shut me down.” He paused to take a long drink. “Did it have anything to do with Chief Stone questioning me?”

  An opening. “You’ll need to ask Erica about that. But I am wondering what the chief thought of your explanation, you know, of what she found on Savannah’s laptop.”

  Shelby couldn’t quite read the look that passed over Bryce’s face. Anger, fear, malice? Whatever it was, he looked uncomfortable, and she sure felt the same. Well, she’d asked the question. She had to see this through.

  “So, Erica did hear about that. Why don’t you just ask the chief? But I will tell you, as I told her, it’s not what it seems. We had worked out our problems.”

  Curious. She took a stab. “So you’re saying it wasn’t a strong motive for murder?”

  He bristled. “Murder? Like hell. I didn’t kill Savannah. I wouldn’t kill anyone. And as you said yourself, the chief obviously doesn’t think so, either, or I’d be in jail.” He took a deep breath and seemed to calm down.

  Shelby considered pointing out that that wasn’t what she’d said but thought it best to leave well enough alone now that he seemed more settled. Should she ask about the laptop again? What was on it? A new book suggestion he didn’t like? Hardly a motive. Blackmail? About what? Was Liam’s fear founded after all? Did Bryce want to get back together with Savannah?

  Would the chief tell her?

  “I’m sorry I got so exasperated,” Bryce said, finally adding a faint smile. “I’m still on edge after everything.”

  Shelby decided she might as well jump in, even if she alienated him. “I can understand that, but you did say you wanted me to let you know what I heard about the investigation. Right now, what I can’t understand is why you won’t tell me what you and Savannah had worked out. Were you two seeing each other again? Was that it?”

  He stared at her for a few seconds, possibly trying to decide what to do about her. Finally, he answered, and she let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “All right, I’ll tell you, but this goes no further. Do I have your promise?”

  “Yes.” She hoped it wasn’t something Erica should know.

  “And the only reason I’m telling you this is because I have the feeling you won’t stop otherwise, which could end up badly for me.” He folded his hands, tent style, on the table. “Savannah found out that I’d borrowed some money from her royalties before passing them on to her. I knew she never checked the statements, and I needed some quick cash to pay off a debt I’d incurred to cover a bad investment.” He glanced at Shelby for a reaction. Her mind was racing, wondering what kind of investment that could be, but she didn’t interrupt.

  “Fortunately, I had the money to repay her right away; in fact, that’s what I’d originally been planning to do. I promised her it wouldn’t happen again. And she promised she’d start paying attention to her statements.”

  His smile was due to the memory of Savannah rather than anything to do with her, Shelby realized. That made it seem believable. Besides, even if it had ended acrimoniously, what w
as the worst that could have happened? Savannah dumped him as her agent? Would that have led to murder? Unlikely. Or what if she had threatened to call the cops? Again, a reason for murder? Possibly, but he must have realized the police would be checking out every aspect of their relationship and everything would come out. So, murder? She guessed not.

  “Okay, thanks for telling me.”

  “And you won’t tell Erica?”

  “No, I won’t.” She might have to reconsider if they reached a serious stage in their relationship, though.

  He reached across the table and put his hand on her arm. “Thank you, Shelby. And I won’t hurt Erica, I promise. On the other hand, she baffles me. But you’re right, I need to talk to her.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. I don’t want to keep you from dinner.”

  “Thanks for the coffee,” Shelby answered, knowing when it was time to leave. She grabbed her bag and stood. “Good luck.”

  She felt his eyes on her back as she left. When she glanced back in, he had pulled his phone out and was punching in numbers.

  Should she let Erica know he was calling? He might be already talking to her. She debated with herself about it all the way home.

  Which is why she didn’t notice that she was being followed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  She heard the footsteps as she neared the houseboat. She could also feel the wharf rocking as the person picked up speed. Fear choked her, but she forced herself to turn around rather than make a dash for the door. She wasn’t sure she could have made it in time anyway. When had she gotten so on edge?

  In the gathering dusk, she could see it was a woman, but she couldn’t see the face. She slowly let out her breath.

  “I’m sorry to startle you,” the woman said, getting closer. She was a girl, really, and Shelby recognized her after a couple of seconds. Rachel Michaels.

  “I’m surprised, that’s all. Was it me you were looking for? How did you know where I live?” She tried slowing her breathing without it being too noticeable.