Murder of a Bookstore Babe

Skye didn’t catch what was said, but suddenly the Alice in Wonderland look-alike slapped Trixie in the face.

“That was assault!” Skye moved in front of her friend. “Which means if all of you don’t get out of our way, I’m calling the police.”

“Just try it!” Alice screamed.

The protesters linked arms and chanted, “No cash for this trash.”

The picketers formed a circle around Skye and Trixie when they attempted to walk into the store. Skye blew out an irritated breath, then grabbed her cell phone from her purse, but before she could dial, two of the male demonstrators pinned her arms to her sides. Trixie seized the waist of one of the men, but another guy took hold of Trixie’s shoulders.

Just as Skye was wondering if they would end up forming the world’s record for a human chain, a long-legged, middle-aged redhead whom Skye knew all too well, dressed in hot pink capris, a matching spandex halter, and stilettos, barreled into the fray. She wielded her huge magenta pocketbook like a giant flyswatter, whacking protesters aside as if they were mosquitoes. A sturdily built teenage girl wearing cropped camo cargo pants, a white T-shirt, and flip-flops was right behind her swinging a backpack with the same precision.

“How can you do this?” the dried-apple-faced woman sobbed as the demonstrators scattered. “Aren’t you concerned about the morals of your community?”

“I used to care about stuff like that,” the redhead said, raising a perfectly plucked brow, “but I take a pill for that now.”

Once Skye had stopped laughing, she thanked her rescuers, then turned to the redhead. “Bunny, what are you doing here?”

Bunny Reid, aka Skye’s ex-boyfriend’s mother, was a former Las Vegas dancer with a penchant for clothes from Victoria’s Secret and men who broke her heart. She was the last person Skye would have expected to see at a bookstore.

Bunny enveloped her in an Obsession-scented hug. “Frannie talked me into it.” Bunny was the manager of the local bowling alley, which her son owned and where Frannie Ryan, the teenager with the backpack, worked part-time. “She’s got me hooked on those Harlequin romances. Those hot ones are better than a copy of Playgirl magazine.” Bunny winked. “When I finish one of those I just want to find some stud and say, ‘Squeeze me like a grape and make me wine.’”

“Do you like those, Frannie?” Frannie was one of Skye’s favorite former students. They were extremely close, and Skye was surprised the teen hadn’t mentioned her plans to attend the Tales and Treats grand opening.

“No.” Frannie shook her head. “But I remembered you saying that in order to get people to read, it’s important to give them books that will interest them, not what you think they should be reading, and Ms. Bunny is interested in . . .” She trailed off, her cheeks red.

Skye hadn’t meant to embarrass the girl and was trying to think of a way to change the subject when Trixie came to her rescue by asking, “How did you get such a good parking spot, Bunny?” She looked pointedly at an old red Camaro, parked smack-dab in front of them.

“I’ve got my ways.” The redhead nodded to a handsome older man sitting at one of the outdoor tables. “In fact, I’d better go thank him. When I saw you two under attack, I forgot my manners.”

Skye wondered briefly whether Mr. Distinguished was Bunny’s new beau, but Frannie distracted her by saying, “Let’s go inside. I want to say hi to Kayla.”

“Are you two friends?” Skye asked.

“Sort of.” Frannie opened the shop’s door. “We were both interested in some of the same colleges and went on campus visits together, but she still really wants to get out of Scumble River, and me, not so much anymore.”

Skye was about to follow Frannie and Trixie into the store when she heard her name being called. Turning, she saw her mother hurrying toward her, May’s four best friends bringing up the rear.

“Hi, Mom.” Skye waved. “I didn’t know you were coming here.”

“We decided to give it a look-see at the last minute.” Skye’s mother reached up and pushed a stray chestnut curl off Skye’s cheek, adjusted her daughter’s blouse, and brushed a piece of lint off her jeans. May’s own short salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly coiffed, and her brown tweed pants and matching jacket looked as if they had just left the ironing board—which they probably had. “Glory and Hester wanted to get some books, Maggie’s checking out the pastry competition, and Kitty and I are here just to be neighborly.”

Skye nodded. She knew her mom and aunt never passed up an opportunity to socialize.

May added, “Besides, Thea called and said there was some excitement here.” Like May, Thea was a dispatcher for the Scumble River Police Department. “People wanting to close down the store.”

“Someone called the cops?” Skye wasn’t surprised her mother and her friends didn’t want to miss the action. Gossip was better if acquired firsthand.