Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“And the real truth is?” a sharp voice asked.

Skye turned and stared into Orlando Erwin’s bloodshot eyes. “Mr. Erwin, am I glad to see you.” Skye had been half afraid he was lying dead somewhere.

“And why is that?” Orlando sat astride his motorcycle, pulled up next to the Bel Air’s rear passenger door.

“Because—”

“Shit!” He cut her off. “I was supposed to look at some old books for you, wasn’t I? Sorry. I was chemically inconvenienced.”

“Yes, but that’s not what’s important now.” Skye said to Anthony, “This is the missing store owner we’ve been looking for. Let him in.”

The young officer moved one of the sawhorses so she and Orlando could get past the cordon. They pulled in behind Risé’s Prius. Skye got out of her Chevy, balancing the cardboard drink carrier and three white McDonald’s bags. Squinting, she could see Zelda Martinez, the newest Scumble River police officer, guarding the other end of the street.

Curious as to where Orlando had been, Skye hurried to catch up with him as he strode over to where his wife and Wally were sitting.

She arrived in time to hear him say, “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

Risé remained seated. Ignoring him, she thanked Skye, who had handed her a paper cup and a sack of food.

Skye looked at Wally, who shook his head. He wanted to hear what the couple might say in the heat of the moment.

“I slipped.” Orlando took a deep, harsh breath. “The pressure got to me.”

Risé unwrapped a straw and stuck it into the opening on the milk shake’s plastic lid.

“With our grand opening ruined, it suddenly hit me that we didn’t have the cushion of your salary or a fat savings account anymore. I couldn’t take it.” Orlando’s tongue darted out, and he ran it over his chapped lips. “I thought after fifteen years I could take just one drink, but I woke up this morning in the drunk tank at the county jail, with no memory of how I got there.”

Skye whispered in Wally’s ear, “Why didn’t County report that Orlando was in their jail when you told them to be on the lookout for him?”

“They don’t formally process the drunks,” Wally said in a low voice. “They just let them sleep it off and then release them once they’re sober.”

“Oh.” Skye turned her attention back to the store owners.

Orlando was still trying to explain. “They let me out about an hour ago.” He shoved a hand through his brown hair. “I tried to call you, but your cell is off, and you weren’t answering at the motor court or at the store, so I came straight here.”

“Shut up!” Risé’s face was set in hard, tight lines. “Just shut up! We’ll talk about this later. Kayla’s dead, and we’ve been robbed.”

“Oh, my God!” Orlando sank to his knees. “Poor thing. She was such a sweet girl.”

“Yes, she was.” Risé blinked back tears. “She really was.”

For a long moment no one spoke; then Orlando broke the silence. “That’s it, then.” He uttered a string of vivid and anatomically detailed invectives. “We’re ruined. We’ll lose everything. Who’ll want to come to a store where someone has died?”

Skye caught her breath. Was Orlando right? Would people hold the death of a local girl against Risé and Orlando, as Chase had? Would they boycott the shop out of fear or revulsion or just plain spite? Was this the end of Tales and Treats before its story even got started?

CHAPTER 9

Look Homeward, Angel

When Skye arrived home, her lights were on and vehicles of every description filled her driveway. Crapola! Just what she needed—her family must have heard the news about the body in the bookstore and descended on her to find out the details. Once Wally put up the barricades and sent Chase to the police station, it was inevitable that the Scumble River grapevine would kick into high gear—and Skye’s mother was one of the biggest grapes.

From the cars parked in front of her house, Skye knew exactly who was inside. The white Oldsmobile belonged to her mother, the blue pickup to her dad, Uncle Charlie drove the Cadillac, her brother owned the Jeep, and Trixie’s Civic rounded out the group.

Shoot! She really didn’t want to have to deal with any of them right now. When the crime scene techs had finally arrived from Laurel, it had taken the team a couple of hours to go through the store. Meanwhile, Wally had sent Risé and Orlando to the police station, left his officers in charge at the store, and he and Skye had driven to Kayla’s parents’ house to inform them of her death.

Afterward, Wally and Skye had taken the bookshop owners’ reports, along with a statement from Chase Wren. It was now past five, and Skye craved quiet and solitude. And maybe a sandwich, since she had never gotten to eat her Big Mac.

She sat unmoving in the Bel Air. What would happen if instead of getting out, she turned around and headed to Wally’s? A moment’s reflection reminded her that if her family thought she was missing, their ensuing actions would be worse than facing their questions now. May and Charlie were not above calling in the National Guard, not to mention the cadaver dogs and the FBI.