Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“Excuse me a minute.” Wally pulled out his phone and dialed. “Silvia, get ahold of the Laurel police and the county guys, and ask them to be on the lookout for Orlando Erwin. Pull his description from his driver’s license.” He listened a minute, then turned to Risé. “What was he wearing and driving?”

“He had on jeans, a navy T-shirt, and a leather jacket,” Risé reported. “And he was on his motorcycle. A ’sixty-eight Harley.”

Wally relayed the information, hung up, and said, “Now, Ms. Vaughn, without touching anything, do you see any sign of a burglary?”

“Not at first glance.” Risé looked around. “Can I go into the other rooms?”

“Yes, but keep your hands in your pockets.”

After she made the rounds, the store owner shook her head. “It seems as if everything is just like I left it. I took the cash.” Risé paused, then said thoughtfully, “The only things that anyone could get some real money for are the first editions and rare books.” She pointed to the smashed cabinet that Wally and Anthony had leaned against the wall. “And they were in there.”

“Could that cupboard have fallen on its own?” Wally asked. “Maybe if it were bumped?”

“I doubt it.” Risé’s voice was bitter. “I told Orlando that it wasn’t fastened to the wall securely enough because I was worried about an earthquake. But otherwise, it’s so heavy, someone would have had to shove it over on purpose.”

Skye touched her arm. “Do you have an inventory of the valuable books?”

“On my laptop.” Risé gestured with her chin. “It’s in my car.”

Skye and Wally waited while Risé fetched her computer, booted it up, and compared the list to the volumes scattered on the floor. Wally had supplied her with a pair of rubber gloves but cautioned her not to move anything from where it lay.

Finally, Risé straightened and said, “At least seven books are missing.”

“Are those missing the ones that are worth the most?” Skye asked.

“Not all of them.” Risé tapped the laptop’s screen. “But this one, a nineteen twenty-two first edition of The Velveteen Rabbit, is worth eight thousand dollars.”

Wally had been inspecting the place on the wall where the cabinet had been fastened, but when he heard Risé’s claim, he said, “Okay. Everyone out. I’m requesting the county crime scene techs.”

Skye, Wally, and Risé trooped outside. While Wally made his call, the women sat at an outdoor table. Skye thought how lucky they were that the weather was still mild. Early-September temperatures in Illinois could range from eighty degrees during the day to freezing at night.

A few minutes later, Wally joined them. “It’ll take the techs forty-five minutes to an hour to get here.” He turned to Skye. “Sugar, if you want to take off, that’s fine.”

Skye nodded and started to rise, but before she got to her feet, Risé grabbed her hand. “I’d appreciate it if you stayed.” Her cheeks reddened. “But I understand if you can’t.”

“Of course I’ll stay if you want me to.” Skye looked at her watch; it was only a little past twelve thirty. “No problem.”

“Thank you.” Risé slumped back in her chair. “I’m not usually this needy.”

They were sitting silently when Skye’s stomach growled. “Hey, I just had an idea.” She realized the only thing she’d had to eat all day was a cup of gas station coffee. Now she sort of wished she’d taken Simon up on his offer of breakfast. “How about I go get takeout from McDonald’s? I’m starving, and I bet the chief is, too. How about you, Risé? Could you do with some lunch?”

“Well.” Risé hesitated. “I did skip breakfast, hoping Orlando would show up.”

“What would you like?”

“I try to eat vegetarian, but I think considering the past twenty-four hours, today I’ll call a Big Mac a vegetable.” Risé smiled for the first time. “What the hell, get me fries and a chocolate shake while you’re at it.”

“Wally?” Skye looked at him.

“Sounds good.” He took out his wallet and handed her a twenty. “Chow’s on me.”

When Skye arrived back from her food run, Wally had cordoned off the block. She rolled down her car window and said to Anthony, who was watching the south entrance, “What’s up?” It was unusual to barricade a whole section of street for anything less than a hostage situation or a shoot-out.

“When I got back from the station, the chief told me to set up the barricades. He wants to keep out any onlookers.” Anthony was a nice-looking young man with sandy brown hair. He worked part-time for the PD and part-time for his father, who owned an appliance repair business. “The bookstore is scheduled to open any minute.”

“What are you supposed to tell people who show up?” Skye was trying to figure out what story would cause the least amount of harm to Tales and Treats’ reputation.

“Chief Boyd never mentioned that.” Anthony puckered his brow. “Any idea what I should say?”

“Hmm.” Skye tapped her chin. “Will everyone have heard it on their scanners?”

“No.” Anthony gave her a shy smile. “We kept it off the radios.”

“Excellent!” Skye wrinkled her nose. “Then you can just say a possible gas leak is being investigated.”