Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“I do keep food in the house and am able to cook.” Skye let the sarcasm roll off her tongue. Simon wasn’t here just to feed her, and he didn’t have that cute, slightly goofy look he wore when he was trying to romance her, so something was definitely up.

He glanced over his shoulder, then said, “I need to talk to you in private.”

“I live alone on a fairly deserted road.” She made a show of sticking her head out the door and gazing around. “I’m pretty sure no one is eavesdropping.”

“Can I come in?” Simon juggled the flat cardboard box. “It’s important.”

“No.” Skye gave him a speculative look. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“How about we sit out here?” Simon gestured to the porch furniture. “The weather’s nice. Just flip on your outside lights.”

“Okay.” Skye tipped her head. “But this better not be about winning me back.”

“I promise it’s not.”

“You wait right there,” Skye ordered. “I’ll go get some plates and napkins. Do you want anything to drink?”

“I’d love a scotch, but I’m guessing you don’t have the bottle you used to keep for me anymore, so how about a glass of wine?” He put the pizza down on the wicker table.

She nodded, closed the door, and after a second’s thought locked it. Hurrying to the kitchen, she worried about what her ex wanted to discuss. None of the subjects that came to mind was encouraging.

Simon had made himself comfortable while she’d been gone. The citronella candle Skye kept on the table was lit, and he had taken off his suit jacket and tie and was settled in one of the pair of matching wicker armchairs with his feet up on the ottoman.

Skye put down two glasses of Zinfandel, plates, and a stack of paper napkins, then took a seat. “Go ahead. Eat while it’s still hot.”

“Thanks.” He flipped open the box. “I haven’t had anything since coffee with you. I was on my way to brunch when I got the call from Boyd.”

While Simon devoured three slices of pizza, she nibbled on one. She may have eaten a huge dinner a couple of hours ago, but who could resist Aurelio’s pepperoni and mushrooms on a crispy thin crust?

Finally, Simon wiped his mouth with his napkin. “You sure aren’t eating much.” He sneered. “Has Boyd got you on a diet for the big wedding?”

“Of course not. He likes me the way I am,” Skye snapped. “Do you really think I’d lose weight because some man told me to?” She was tired of hearing about weddings, and she was especially tired of discussing what she should look like by the time hers rolled around.

“Oops! Sorry. That was just my jealousy getting out of hand.” Simon’s expression was contrite. “Let me rephrase that. Don’t you like the pizza?”

“If you must know, Mom and the gang were waiting for me with a complete Sunday dinner ready to be served when I got home.” She made a wry face. “I wonder how many other thirty-five-year-old women have mothers who break into their houses to cook for them.”

“May is one of a kind.” Simon’s tone was fond. “If my mother broke into my house, it would be to steal the silver in order to finance some get-rich-quick scheme.”

“Bunny’s not that bad.” Skye took a sip of her wine. “She would never steal from you.”

“You’re right.” Simon picked up another piece of pizza. “She’d just try to con me out of the money.”

They both laughed; then Skye sighed and said, “I’m not going to like why you’re here, am I?”

“Probably not.”

“Shoot!” She took a deep breath. “I’m ready. Tell me your news.”

“The medical examiner’s preliminary findings are that Kayla’s death was not an accident.”

“Because the rare-book cabinet was deliberately pushed over?”

“Not only that.” Simon finished chewing and swallowed. “Because it appears she was hit over the head before the cabinet was yanked on top of her.”

“How can he know that so soon?”

“Her skull was smashed in, but the bookcase only hit her from below the shoulder blades.”

“Still.” Skye’s chair squeaked as she leaned forward. “It was most likely a crime of circumstances. The thief didn’t realize Kayla was there, and when she caught him, he hit her, shoved the cabinet over, and ran.”

“Maybe.” Simon twisted a gold signet ring on his right hand. “But I’m concerned about Xavier.”

“His investment?”

“That, although I don’t think that poor girl’s death will keep business away for long—people have short memories.” Simon struggled to explain his reasoning. “More, I have a bad feeling that this wasn’t—how did you put it?—a crime of circumstances.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Something isn’t adding up.” Simon adjusted the crease on his trousers, then picked up his glass. “Xavier was really upset when he first came into the store and he thought Risé was the woman under the bookshelf, and he rarely expresses any emotion.”

“I can see why he’d be distressed. After all, he, Orlando, and Risé have been friends for years.” Skye wasn’t sure what Simon was trying to say. “Not to mention that Xavier doesn’t have many people he’s close to. He’s always struck me as an extremely lonely man.”