Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“Was that the cage door being opened?” Even though she knew it was useless to try, Skye attempted to shorten her mother’s account. May employed the step-by-step version of storytelling.

“I suppose so.” May frowned at the interruption. “I didn’t actually see that part.” She took a seat and ate a bite of Trixie’s abandoned chocolate croissant. “You know, my throat is awful dry.”

“I’ll get you a coffee.” Skye turned to fetch her mother a drink.

May called after her, “Black, no sugar.”

Once Skye returned and May had taken a sip from the cup Skye handed her, she continued, “Anyway, I heard a clank and looked up. At first, I didn’t notice anything unusual, but then the hair on the back of my neck rose and I froze. It didn’t feel like I was alone anymore.”

Skye stopped herself from sighing. She might as well accept the fact that there was no way to speed this up.

May wiped her mouth on a napkin, then continued, “I was about to shrug it off when I saw the rat scurrying towards me.”

“It was a chinchilla, Mom.”

“I don’t care what fancy name you give the thing. It’s still a rat, just one that has a nice fur coat.”

“Fine.” Skye rolled her eyes. “Go on.”

“The rat scared me to death. It was coming straight for my throat, and all I could think about was getting away from it before it attacked me and gave me rabies.”

“So you didn’t see anything else.” Skye folded her arms.

“Well, when I was running away, I might have seen someone crouched behind the register.”

“Did you recognize who it was, May?” Trixie asked.

“No.” May took out her compact and reapplied her lipstick. “All I saw before I ran in here was the top of a woman’s head.” May snapped her makeup case shut. “Whoever it was really needs to see Vince for a color and style. Her hair was a real drab brown, and she wore it in this ugly bun.”

Skye and Trixie looked at each other. That had sounded like Pru Cormorant. Was that why the English teacher hadn’t been with the protesters? Had she wanted to remain anonymous so she could sneak in and let the chinchillas loose in order to sabotage the store?

CHAPTER 6

To Kill a Mockingbird

The sun struggled to break through early-morning clouds as Skye hurried toward the church parking lot. She was considering Father Burns’s concluding remark; he always ended Mass with a nugget of wisdom hidden inside a humorous aside.

This morning the priest had said, “God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage.”

Sometimes she thought Father Burns could read her mind. Either that or he’d been sneaking a peek at her diary. Skye’s life had never been smooth, but so far, knock on wood, she had always landed on her feet.

A voice interrupted her thoughts. “Skye! Wait up.”

Skye battled the urge to pretend she hadn’t heard and duck into her car. Slowing to a reluctant stop, she turned and spotted Simon loping across the grass that separated the church from the rectory.

Shoot! What kind of stunt is he going to pull this time? She hated hurting his feelings. His recent attempts to win her back had been sweet, and she was flattered, but she’d explained it was too late. She was going to marry Wally. However, convincing someone as determined as her ex-boyfriend that she had made her choice was proving tougher than she’d imagined. Simon had always been an overachiever, and he wasn’t used to losing, or giving up.

As Simon got closer, the breeze tousled his short auburn hair and billowed the olive green jacket of his expensive suit, making it look almost like a cape. Everything about him was elegant, from his tall, lean physique to his long, tapered fingers, but it was his expression that struck a spark in Skye. His compelling golden-hazel eyes held a hint of sadness that hadn’t been there before their breakup.

“Hello, Simon.” Skye kept her voice cool. “It was a good service today, wasn’t it?”

The other parishioners streaming around Skye and Simon looked at them with curiosity. Several slowed, clearly intent on eavesdropping. Great! News of this conversation would reach May faster than an Internet instant message.

“Yes,” Simon agreed, “Father was in rare form.” He twisted the church bulletin he held. “Do you have time for coffee?”

Prior to Skye’s engagement, she and Simon had made a habit of having breakfast together after Mass. But that had been when she thought he only wanted to be friends. Now that he had declared his intention to win her back, she had put a stop to those get-togethers.

Skye shook her head and said, “You know I can’t see you anymore.”

“It’s not a date. It’s just coffee.” Simon seemed surprised to see the shredded remains of the newsletter in his hands and hurriedly stuck them into his jacket pocket. “Mom mentioned the fuss at the bookstore yesterday, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”