Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“How did you get inside the building?” Wally ran his fingers through his short black hair, ruffling the silver strands at his temples.

“The door was off the latch,” Skye said. “I thought Orlando had left it open for me, so I went inside.”

“I take it he wasn’t there.”

“No. And the main room was dark.” Skye crumpled Wally’s white linen hanky. “I figured he was in the café since he does all the baking.”

“So you went in there?”

“Not exactly.” Skye straightened the hem on her black skirt. “The boxes of books I was carrying were really heavy, and I didn’t want to put them on the floor since it’s so hard to lift them from there, so I headed towards the counter.”

“In the dark?”

“Yeah.” Wally’s dubious tone made her recognize how silly her reasoning sounded, and she rushed to explain, “You see, I’d just been in the store yesterday, and I knew there wasn’t anything blocking the path between me and the register.”

“But . . .”

“But then my foot bumped into something.” Skye swallowed hard, realizing that what she’d thought was a melon had actually been a human head.

“Is that when you called me?”

“First, I put the boxes down and felt the barrier, trying to figure out what it was. Then I found the switch and turned on the lights.” Skye blanched. “When I saw that the humongous rare-book cabinet had fallen and crushed someone underneath it, that’s when I called you. Once you were on the way, I came out here to wait.”

“Which was exactly the right thing to do,” Wally reassured her.

“Thank you.” Skye’s smile was halfhearted. “I aim to please.”

Wally got up.

“Are you going back inside?” Skye asked.

“Yes.” Wally leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I need to take a walk through the rest of the store to see if we have a second victim.”

“You don’t think it’s an accident?” Skye asked, chewing on her thumbnail.

“I have no idea, but the question is, where’s Orlando?” Wally walked toward the open door. “And if that’s his wife in there, why hasn’t he come looking for her?”

“Oh, my.” Skye followed Wally and peered inside. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s the million-dollar question, all righty.”

Skye paced up and down the sidewalk, thoughts ricocheting through her mind like pennies in a clothes dryer. Where was Orlando? How had the cabinet fallen over? She paused in midstep, another worry popping up. How would this affect Xavier’s investment? Scanning the street in both directions, she was relieved to see that the police car hadn’t attracted any onlookers. For once she was thankful that there were so few businesses left in this part of town. But could Orlando run the store without his wife? Would he even want to?

The minutes ticked by as if each was an eternity, and Skye was getting nervous. Maybe Wally should have radioed for backup before going inside the store. Before she could decide whether to check on him or call the PD for help, Simon pulled his Lexus behind the squad car. He jogged toward her carrying a black doctor’s case. She knew the bag contained a camera, stethoscope, flashlight, rubber gloves, and liver thermometer. The body bag would arrive with Xavier in the hearse.

“Are you okay?” Simon’s brow was furrowed and his knuckles were white. “What happened?”

Skye explained, adding, “Do you know where Orlando and Risé are living?”

“I thought they were living above the store.” Simon glanced at the second-story windows. “But I must be wrong, because if they were upstairs, surely they’d have come down to see what’s going on.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” Skye hadn’t mentioned who the victim was or that Orlando was MIA. “But I did hear that they were having some problem with the carpenter who was handling the remodeling, so maybe the apartment isn’t done yet.”

“That’s probably it.”

“Why do things like this happen?” Skye tilted her head, regarding Simon with an anguished expression. “Every time something good comes to Scumble River, something bad seems to follow.”

As Simon put an arm around Skye, Wally walked up to them. “No one’s in there except the vic. So whenever you’re through hugging my fiancée, feel free to do your job, Reid.”

“Oh, put a sock in it, Boyd.” Simon gave Skye’s shoulder one last squeeze, then pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. “Let’s see what we have.”

Glaring at Simon, Wally followed him into the store.

When Wally returned, Skye was once again sitting in the wrought-iron chair. It seemed like hours since the two men had gone inside, and she was staring at her cell phone thinking she should call someone. But who? The chief of police and the coroner were already on site. The only one missing was Xavier with the hearse.