Murder of a Bookstore Babe

The last time the Feed Bag had been redecorated was 1984, and the mauve paint and brass railings showed every bit of their age. More than twenty years of hard wear had taken a toll. Most of the vinyl seats had rips that had been repaired with duct tape, and the walls were pocked with dabs of color that didn’t quite match the original. The original ferns had died more than a decade ago, and the plastic plants that replaced them were faded and dusty.

Tomi greeted Skye at the door. “What are you doing here so late, honey, and all by your lonesome?” Without waiting for an answer, she seated Skye at the booth nearest the cash register, then put a hand on her hip. “You and the chief didn’t have a spat, did you?”

Ah. The joys of small-town living. “Nope. Wally’s at a meeting in Laurel, and since I’ve had a busy day”—Skye barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the understatement—“I thought I’d treat myself to a piece of your famous lemon meringue pie before I head on home.”

“Coming right up.”

When Tomi came back with the dessert, Skye said, “I’d love some company if you aren’t too busy.”

“Sure. Let me grab a beer.” Tomi turned and said over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

Skye watched the tiny restaurateur speak to an employee, then dart into the kitchen.

When Tomi returned, she slid into the seat opposite Skye, twisted the cap from a bottle of Corona, took a long slug, wiped her mouth, and said, “I just gotta keep an eye on the register.”

“No problem.” Skye searched her mind for a topic of conversation that would lead into the questions she needed to ask. “Lots of excitement in town over that new bookstore.”

“Sure is.” Tomi patted a strand of hair back into her blond beehive. “Especially after what happened to that poor girl working there.”

“Wasn’t that a shame?” Skye cut off the tip of her pie with her fork. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Wasn’t it some burglar?”

“Maybe.” Skye chewed and swallowed. “But I wonder if it didn’t have something to do with the store.” She met Tomi’s gaze. “I hear a lot of folks in town have a beef with the owners.”

“Yeah.” Tomi straightened the name tag that pinned the handkerchief to her pink uniform. “Scumble River doesn’t like change.”

“Or competition.” Skye ate another bite of pie, letting the fluffy meringue melt on her tongue after savoring the tart lemon filling and finally the flaky crust. “Uncle Charlie said that Risé and Orlando had ticked off a lot of business owners.”

“So I hear.” Tomi narrowed her eyes. “Especially your cousin Hugo.”

“Yeah. Hard to believe someone can get so mad over something like a parking space.” Skye was careful not to show what side she was on in that dispute. “It seemed to work out all right for the grand opening. Maybe they can come to some middle ground.”

“Hugo, compromise?” Tomi snorted. “What universe are you living in?”

“Yeah, well . . .” Skye was almost done with her pie. She needed to bring the subject around to Tomi’s own gripe about the store. “So, do you think Tales and Treats’ café will lure away any of your customers?”

“Nah.” Tomi wiped the moisture ring from her beer bottle with her apron. “My regulars won’t pay four bucks for a cup of fancy coffee or want some citified pastry instead of my good old-fashioned cakes and pies.”

“I don’t know.” Skye dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “People can be fickle. They get tired of the same old, same old.”

“Maybe for a while, but they always come back to the comfortable and the familiar.” Tomi shrugged. “And money talks. Here they can have a coffee and dessert for five dollars. At Tales and Treats it’ll cost them close to double that amount.”

“True.” Skye wondered whether Charlie’s information about Tomi being mad about the store opening was wrong. But just in case, she needed to see whether Tomi had an alibi. “Wally and I came by here Saturday night for some dessert after we got back from the movie in Joliet, but the parking lot was so packed we decided not to stop. You must have been really busy.”

“Whoo-ee.” Tomi finished her beer and started toward the register, where an old man was tapping his foot impatiently. “We sure were. We had Rosella Bonucci’s retirement dinner, and she and her husband, Joe, have so many friends, no one wanted to leave. I’m usually out of here by ten on weekends, but that night I was here past midnight helping Carlos and Wanda clean up.”

After confirming with the waitress and busboy that Tomi had indeed been with them until after twelve a.m. Saturday night, Skye paid her tab and left. Another suspect was off her list. That left her cousins. How could she approach them?

Kevin was the easiest; she could claim to want to review her insurance policies. He’d been bugging her to update them, and she had been putting him off for months. With Flip, she could say she’d heard he was doing some private carpentry now and wondered if he’d have time to give her an estimate on turning one of her spare bedrooms into a home office with built-in bookshelves.