Proof of Murder

by Lauren Elliott

  Addie’s brows knit together. “But isn’t that something you’d want to downplay?”

  “Not when the house’s reputation has spread up and down the eastern seaboard. I can’t get ahead of it, so my thought is to exploit it for all it’s worth.”

  “That’s an interesting sales tactic.”

  “So far, it’s working.” A tiny smile touched the corners of his lips. “I have two potential buyers coming to view it later next week.”

  “And in full disclosure, you did tell them the rumors about the house?”

  “That is exactly why they are interested in seeing it. Now I just have to make sure the auction house is cleared out by then.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. Tomorrow the yard sale starts, which should clear out a lot of the inventory.” She rubbed her forehead. “Or did Blake extend everything because of the library being closed down as a crime scene?”

  His startled gaze set on hers. “Didn’t you know? The private bidders’ auction will be moved to his auction house in Boston.”

  “No, I didn’t know. I’ve been . . . indisposed for a while, I guess.” Her skin crawled at the thought of her night at the police station. “I guess I’m out of touch.”

  “Yeah, and from what I heard, there were a lot of irate bidders who came strictly for the private auction, including that cruise ship that made a special port of call to be here. I heard that a few of them did stay on for the public auction today and are planning to attend the yard sale tomorrow. I guess they hope that some of what should have been sold at Thursday’s private bidders’ sale will find its way to the tables.” He raked his fingers through his hair, causing silver tufts to stick up. “It’s only that it looks like, with all the commotion of that poor woman’s death and those missing books, that the turnout for any of the sales hasn’t been what they anticipated, and sales have been low. I heard there was still a lot of stuff to pack up and ship to Boston.”

  “Isn’t it better to have some furniture in the house like all those staging shows on television say?”

  “Normally, yes, but in this case, with what I’m trying to sell, I was hoping the house would be empty for viewing. It would help prospective buyers really feel the creepiness of that big old empty house as I relay the tales about the previous deaths.” His lips twitched. “Although, I guess now there’s one more mysterious death to add to that story.”

  “And that’s why you’re so interested in that book? Hill Road House isn’t mentioned in it.”

  His face lit up with a smile that reached his eyes. “I understand that from Maggie, but I’m selling the whole Greyborne Harbor region, not just the house, and one of my buyers is thinking of capitalizing on the rumors around town and turning the estate into a tourist attraction. Especially now since the cruise line will be stopping here every week. He said it would be the perfect location and might give some of the attractions in Salem a run for their money.” Art’s eyes filled with a hint of a twinkle.

  “Okay,” Addie chuckled softly, “I have to give you credit for thinking outside the box and making the best of what might prove to be a tough sell. Anything I can do to help, let me know.”

  “All I need from you is about six more copies of this book.” Art handed her The Ghosts and Mysteries of Greyborne Harbor. “And about six of each of these.” He pulled books from the shelf. “Do you think you can get them in by next week so I can make up some marketing packages?”

  Addie took the five books from his hands and glanced at the titles. “I can place the order and hope my distributor has them in stock.”

  “Can you put a rush on it?” He gave her a boyish grin that seemed to erase twenty years off his sun-weathered face.

  “I’ll try my best. That’s all I can promise.”

  “That’s all I ask.” He retrieved a white straw fedora from a bookshelf and placed it on his head, picked up a cane umbrella from its resting place against a bookshelf and hooked it over the crook of his arm, and smiled, turning to leave.

  “Are we expecting rain today?”

  He glanced back at her. “I really don’t know, why?”

  Addie pointed to his umbrella.

  He glanced down at it and chuckled. “Force of habit, I guess, after living in Seattle. I never leave home without one now. You never know when you’ll need it.”

  “I guess it’s best to be prepared for the unexpected.”

  He grinned and walked out, umbrella twirling in one hand.

  She shifted her armful of books and started for the front counter, but came to a full stop. Standing at the counter was none other than Martha. Addie wondered if she’d ever get used to seeing her old nemesis in her shop. Although things between them had been a little less prickly over the past months, Martha Stringer still had a cactus personality. One was never quite certain what to expect when confronted by her, and Addie glanced up the row to see if there was any sign of Paige. Martha’s daughter could always be counted on to act as a buffer between them. Her heart sank when she saw her shop assistant busy with a regular customer.

  Addie took a deep breath and pasted on the friendliest smile she could muster. “Martha, how nice to see you.” Addie set the books on the counter. “I’m surprised to see you in at lunchtime, though. Paige told me that since you started your new select-your-own-toppings sandwich bar, it’s become your busiest time of day.”

  Martha fanned her round, flushed face with her hand. “I needed to get out of that heat for a few minutes. Those ovens have been going since five a.m., and the air-conditioning is on the fritz. I feel like I’m the one getting baked in there.”

  Addie didn’t know whether to offer support or laugh, but when Martha erupted into a deep belly laugh, she had her answer.

  Paige popped her head around the corner of a bookshelf. “What happened, Mom? Why are you here?”

  Martha swatted a tear from her cheek as if it were a mosquito and tried to answer, but it was no use. The heat of her shop had obviously made her dizzy in more ways than one. Addie choked, stifling her laugh, and looked at Paige.

  Paige glanced from one to the other. “I guess I missed what the joke was.”

  Addie pawed at the air, trying to regain her composure under the watchful eye of a customer by the end sales rack. “It’s just that your mother is half-baked.”

  “Yes, what she said.” Martha jerked her thumb at Addie and wiped her eyes with the corner of her white apron. “But seriously, Paige, you didn’t take a lunch with you this morning when you dashed out of the house for work, and that useless girl I hired, well, she made way too much egg salad, so I brought you both in a few for lunch.” She held up a brown paper bag, a flush spreading across her apple cheeks. “That is if you want them?”

  “Of course we do.” Addie grinned and took the bag. “How did you know my stomach was rebelling against starvation?”

  “I guess when I heard what happened last night”—her gaze dropped—“that if Paige had to get in early to open and didn’t have time to make anything, then you probably didn’t, either, considering . . .” She snapped her mouth closed. “I just hope you like egg salad.”

  Paige threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “Thank you.”

  Martha’s eyes glittered with unshed tears, proving her tough exterior was slowly cracking. The old Martha would have insisted that Paige quit working for a troublemaker who went off and got herself arrested. This new version of Martha was one Addie hoped was here to stay.

  “Thank you so much, Martha. You’re a real lifesaver,” Addie called after her as the doorbells jingled with her departure.

  Paige opened the bag. “It’s full. There are at least half-a-dozen sandwiches in here.”

  “Really?” Addie peered into Martha’s bakery bag. “Why don’t you take a couple and go next door to Serena’s and have lunch with Elli. I’ll eat mine when you get back.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m hungry, but I’ll wait.” Addie scanned what she could
see of the shop. “It’s quiet in here for the time being. You go ahead and take your break now because you opened this morning when I was . . . indisposed.” She hoped Paige didn’t see the hot flush that spread across her cheeks.

  But there was no worry about that as Paige pulled three wrapped sandwiches from the bag. “I’ll see if Serena can get away now, too, and come have hers with you,” she called as she scampered out the door.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, Paige burst back in through the door, giggling. Addie looked up from the consignment account book she’d been balancing. “I take it you had a good break.”

  “Yeah, Elli’s such a hoot. She’s not all that bright sometimes, but what she doesn’t have in smarts, she sure makes up for with her sense of humor.” Paige took one look at the books Addie had refilled the stocking cart with. “Where did all these come from?”

  “Wendy came in with a couple of boxes. She sold that old house she and her husband had.”

  “The one over on Juniper?”

  “Yeah, and she doesn’t have any room in her new apartment for even half her book collection, so she’s going to donate them to the store.”

  “Donate them? Not consign them?”

  “She wouldn’t hear of making money off them. She just wanted them to find good homes.” Addie pivoted around the end of the counter toward Paige. “I think this move is very hard on her. She and her husband had lived in that house for nearly fifty years, and now that he’s gone she seems a little lost.”

  “She was a good friend of Mom’s. I’ll ask about her and make sure she’s doing okay.”

  “That’s a great idea. In the meantime, I told her we couldn’t take the books unless she let me give her a store credit, so I’ve marked that in the consignment book and made a note under her account on the computer. She said she had about eight crates of books to bring in yet, so after she does, I’ll enter how much of a credit we’ll give her.”

  “That’s nice, but if she’s looking to downsize her book collection, won’t that defeat her purpose?”

  “I’m one step ahead of you, because that’s exactly what she said,” Addie said with a laugh. “I pointed out our wide selection of children’s books and told her the store credit would make her the most popular grandmother ever at birthday parties and Christmases if she accepted it.”

  “Good idea. I bet she jumped at that. I think she has about a dozen grandkids.”

  “Fourteen at last count. Plus, I also suggested she join the book club. I thought it might be good for her to get together with some of the other members who have lost their husbands, too.”

  “Yeah, she and Ida might hit it off. I’m pretty sure they know each other, but maybe not socially.”

  “I was thinking . . .” Addie twisted her fingers together. “Maybe you could ask your mom if she wants to join, too.”

  “My mother at a book-club meeting? That’ll be the day. Unless they’re cookbooks, I don’t think she’s ever read anything else.”

  “It might be good for her, then, don’t you think? Since she’s started to come into the store, she does seem to be taking more of an interest in what you’re doing. It might be good for both of you to do something like read and review books together.”

  Paige shrugged and pushed the cart up the aisle. “I’ll ask her, but don’t hold your breath.”

  “That’s all we can do, is ask,” Addie said with a chuckle. “Oh. Wendy said she’d be back later with those other books if she can get her sons to help her with them.”

  “Sounds good,” Paige called back and then stopped. “Did you eat yet?”

  “No, I haven’t. What was Serena doing when you were in there?”

  “She was on the phone with her suppliers trying to get her orders sorted out for next week. I saw her eating her sandwich while she was on hold.”

  Addie peeked at the wrapped sandwiches in the bakery bag. “There’s a couple left in here. Maybe I’ll take one over to the hospital and see if Simon’s hungry. I haven’t seen him since last night.” She recalled the haunted look in his eyes when she was led out the door in handcuffs and then ushered into the back of the police cruiser. “Yeah, I better go see him.” She called out as she grabbed the sandwich bag, her purse, and headed out the front door through the park to the hospital.

  * * *

  Addie raised her hand to knock on Simon’s hospital office door and froze when voices drifted through the partial opening. She edged closer, not averse to eavesdropping. As a matter of fact, this was a skill she had learned to recently embrace.

  “What you’re saying, Simon, is that there is no cause of death?”

  “No, Marc, I said there is no indication of poison, trauma, or any other weapon used that would have caused a sudden death in this manner.”

  “Same thing, isn’t it?”

  “Not exactly.” Simon let out a labored breath. “It only means I have to run more tests before I can determine an actual cause of death and file my report.”

  “I need to know if I have a murder on my hands or not.”

  “At this point, I can’t say for certain.”

  “Come on, you have to give me more than that. I have a suspect who is convinced that the death and the book thefts are related, and a special agent who feels that particular suspect is guilty of both crimes.”

  “I can only tell you, again, that I have run the standard toxicology tests, plus I’ve tested all the herbal samples you brought me, and they all came back negative in the blood and tissue samples. Nothing that I’ve tested for induced sudden death. Unless you can bring me exactly whatever it is that you think poisoned this woman, it appears to be just as I said: She died as the result of a heart attack.”

  “Okay, so based on that, you’re saying that the two aren’t related. The victim just happened to die, and the books just happened to disappear at the same time?”

  “That’s what the autopsy evidence indicates at this point, yes. You can tell your agent friend”—by the exasperation in Simon’s voice, Addie pictured him raking his fingers through his hair—“that she’s got it wrong on all accounts. You know as well as I do that suspect, as you called her, is no more capable of killing someone or stealing those books than you or I.”

  “I can believe that, but the problem is . . .” Marc’s voice moved closer to the door “. . . I don’t know that based on the evidence. There’s just too much right now to prove that Addie is responsible for the books going missing, and I need to know if there is any evidence to prove that she may have had something to do with Charlotte’s death, too. But you’re saying the death was natural causes, so that just means that unless something else comes up, the theft charge still looks like it’s going to stick.”

  “Can you hear yourself, Marc? What happened to you? This is Addie. The woman you once loved and proposed marriage to.”

  Marc cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I have to follow the evidence.”

  The door opened, and Addie slid around the corner into a cubby, crouching on the far side of a linen supply cart. She didn’t hear Simon’s reply to Marc’s last remark, but judging by the quick pace and thudding force of Marc’s boot steps leading away from her, it wasn’t what the chief had wanted to hear. She counted . . . seven . . . eight . . . nine . . . and ten, before she crept around the cart and edged toward Simon’s office door. She had to be certain she’d given Marc enough time to round the corner to the elevators at the end of the hallway. When she came fully out of hiding, she stopped short as she caught sight of Simon traipsing off in the same direction.

  Chapter 16

  Addie needed to process the conversation she’d just heard between Marc and Simon and a brisk walk in the sunshine offered her the perfect means in which to do that. The summer sun beating down on her warmed the coldness of Marc’s words that was coursing through her veins. She’d opted to take the longer route to give her the breath of fresh air she desperately needed and cut up the alley off Birch to the back alley to her s
hop. When she yanked the handle to open the door, she was stopped dead in her tracks by a wall of boxes.

  “Oops, wait a minute,” Paige called from the other side, followed by muted scuffling sounds. The door swung partially open and Paige popped her head out. “I didn’t expect you back from lunch so soon. Wendy’s two sons just dropped off these crates of books, and I haven’t had time to move them from in front of the door where they left them.”

  Addie eyed the narrow opening between the doorframe and the crates. “No problem, I guess we’re about to see if those crunches I do every morning have been worth it.” She sucked in her tummy and grinned at Paige when she managed to squeeze around them and through the doorway.

  Paige pushed another box to the side and collapsed on the lid. “How was lunch?” She eyed the bulging bakery bag Addie clutched in her hand.

  Addie brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Simon was busy, so I never saw him.”

  “You haven’t eaten yet?”

  “No, I lost my appetite, but if you’re still hungry help yourself.” Addie gave the bag the sniff test. “On second thoughts, don’t bother they’ve been out too long.” She winced tossing the bag into the trash can.

  “I can go next door and pick you up a fresh one, if you like.”

  “I’m good, but if you want to go get yourself something, go ahead.”

  “Thanks, but no, I think I should finish going through these books to see exactly what we have. At first glance there seems to be a lot of the summer beach reads we needed.”

  “Perfect. Since I didn’t get a chance to pick up those classics from the auction, at least we’ll have something for the tourists.”

  Addie surveyed her disorganized storage room. She knew she’d have to pull up her big-girl pants, stop feeling like the suspect for a moment, and stop thinking about how she could prove her innocence. Now wasn’t the time to think of all the what-ifs. She needed to concentrate on what had to be her main priority, and that was keeping Paige employed and her shop open. It was less than a week until the first official cruise ship was scheduled to dock. Fingers crossed, she’d still be here and not rotting away in some prison cell.