Murder of a Bookstore Babe

Skye rested for a second, then made her way to the entrance. As she lowered the boxes to the concrete, she noticed that the door was slightly ajar. It took her a second to come to the conclusion that Orlando had probably left it like that so she’d know it was open and would come inside. If he was working in the café, he’d never hear her knock.

Boosting the cartons back up to chest level, Skye used her toe to nudge the door open a little more, then hip-checked it, widening the gap so she had room to enter. As she stepped into the unlit shop, she called out, “Yoo-hoo, Orlando. It’s Skye Denison.”

Between the boxes she could barely see over, and the lack of illumination, Skye felt like she was in a cave. She paused just over the threshold and tried to get her bearings.

Intent on recalling whether there was anything between her and the counter, Skye took one tiny step, shouting, “Mr. Erwin? Orlando? Are you here?”

There was no answer. As far as Skye could tell, there were no lights on in any of the store’s rooms. What in the heck was going on? Why would the door be open if no one was around? Where was Orlando?

Getting no response to her third yoo-hoo, Skye inched ahead. She stopped to listen, but all was as silent as outer space. Yikes! This was starting to remind her of a haunted house, and she hated haunted houses.

“Anyone here?” Skye’s voice quavered. She’d never realized how spooky a dark, empty bookstore could be.

No answer. Taking a deep breath, Skye forced herself to shuffle forward. If she could just get to the front and put these boxes down on the counter, she could go wait in her car until Orlando showed up.

By her estimation, she was only about three feet from the register. As she took another step, her foot slid into what felt like a melon. What was a piece of fruit doing in the middle of the floor? Moving to the right, she encountered a wooden barrier. There had definitely not been anything like that in the shop yesterday.

Sighing, she finally gave up and eased the boxes to the floor. Still unable to see in the darkness, Skye crouched. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the obstruction, then ran her hand down its length. It felt like a cabinet. Had it fallen over during the night?

Making her way back toward the entrance, she trailed her fingers along the adjacent wall until she found a light switch and flipped it on. Brightness flooded the store. Skye blinked rapidly, blinded by the sudden glare.

When her eyes finally adjusted, she gasped, “Risé!” and rushed forward.

The huge, heavy rare-book cabinet that had been set against the wall was now lying across the floor. Sticking out from under it, facedown, were a head and shoulders. The shiny brown ponytail splayed against the yellow polo shirt looked vibrant and alive, but the instant Skye touched the store owner’s neck, she knew the woman had been dead for quite some time.

CHAPTER 7

The Picture of Dorian Gray

Asquad car squealed to a stop in front of Tales and Treats, but its lights weren’t flashing and its siren was silent. Wally Boyd jumped out and sprinted toward Skye, who was slumped in one of the shop’s outdoor wrought-iron chairs. As the chief of the Scumble River Police Department, Wally worked days Monday through Friday, but knowing he’d want to be first on the scene involving a death, Skye had called him directly rather than dialing 911. Evidently, he’d stopped at the police station to pick up a cruiser before coming to the store.

Wally’s warm brown eyes held a hint of concern as he gathered her into his arms, but his tone was light. “You can’t even visit a bookstore without finding a body, can you, darlin’?”

“Guess not.” Skye buried her face in his muscular chest, not wanting him to see her tears. Unfortunately he was right; she’d stumbled across several corpses in the past, and it never got any easier. At least this time it appeared to be a tragic accident rather than a murder.

Wally settled her back into her chair and handed her a starched white handkerchief. “I’ll go take a look and be right back.”

Skye nodded, blotting under her eyes and blowing her nose.

Wally returned a few minutes later. He tucked his cell phone into his shirt pocket and said, “Reid is on his way. He was on I-55 heading to Joliet when I called him, and he had to find a place to turn around.”

“Okay.”

“Are you up to telling me about it while we wait for him?”

“Of course.” Skye took a deep breath. “Yesterday, at the grand opening, I mentioned to Orlando Erwin that I had inherited a bunch of old books.”

“The boxes you have stacked in one of the upstairs bedrooms?”

“Right,” Skye confirmed. “Anyway, Orlando is an expert in rare books and first editions, and he offered to take a look at what I had, to see if there was anything valuable.”

“Is that why you were here when the store was closed? You were meeting him for an appraisal?”

“Uh-huh.” Her teeth caught her lower lip and worked it for a moment. “But there weren’t any lights on and he wasn’t around.”