Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“Yeah.” Ginger ushered her into the family room. “A few months ago. I can’t believe you didn’t hear about it. It was in the Star.”

“Really?” Skye usually read the local newspaper from cover to cover, but during the summer, when she had been working as the wedding planner for her California cousin, she hadn’t had time even to glance at the front page. “I must have missed it. I’m surprised Mom never said anything.”

“Sit down.” Ginger nearly pushed Skye into an itchy plaid-covered chair next to where Flip was seated in his camouflage recliner. He was absorbed in solving the puzzle on Wheel of Fortune and didn’t appear aware she was in the room. “I’m surprised too,” Ginger added. “Aunt May wouldn’t have ignored that nugget on the gossip circuit.”

“I was sorry he wasn’t available last summer when I had my master bath remodeled. I know what a good job he does.” Skye settled into the cushiony seat. “So when I heard he did some work for the owners of Tales and Treats, I thought maybe J and A had relaxed their rules and he could do my office.” Skye looked questioningly at Flip.

Ginger stepped behind her husband. “Pay attention. Skye wants to hire you.”

Skye winced at the hollow sound as Ginger thumped the top of his head with her knuckle. Flip’s hair was doing what Skye called a balderdash—a race to the receding line.

Flip continued to ignore his wife, and before Ginger smacked him again, Skye hurriedly said, “I can wait until the commercial.”

“Okay.” Ginger seemed to remember her manners. “Can I get you something? Beer, wine, or I could whip us up some margaritas.”

“A glass of water would be great.” It was hot in the room, and Skye’s mouth was dry. “With ice, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No problem. We got a new fridge with an ice maker in the door. It’ll just take a second.” Ginger turned to leave but pointed over her shoulder. “There are photo albums on the shelf there if you want to take a look at some of the work Flip’s done.”

Once Ginger disappeared into the kitchen, Skye looked around. The furniture was mostly Early American, with braided rugs scattered over the scuffed hardwood floors. Hanging over the center of the room was a chandelier made of deer antlers. It rotated slowly, as if to silent music. The walls were covered with stuffed animal heads, bows, arrows, and a variety of guns, and every flat surface was plastered with pictures of Ginger and Flip’s three children—Bert, Dwayne, and Iris.

Skye guessed this was Flip’s kingdom. It had probably been decorated when the family had moved in fifteen years ago and not touched since.

Ginger returned just as the volume of the TV increased, indicating that the program had gone to a commercial. She shouted over the frenetic music, “Turn that thing down and talk to Skye. She has a job for you.” Ginger handed Skye the glass of ice water, grabbed the remote from her husband, and muted the set. “Men.”

“Son of a b—” Flip appeared to see Skye for the first time and interrupted himself. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi.” Skye snuck a peek at her watch. She needed to get going soon. “I’m hoping you can turn one of my spare bedrooms into an office. You know, with bookshelves and a built-in desk?”

“I can do that.” Flip leaned back and folded his hands across his stomach. “Want me to come over Monday afternoon and take a look?”

“That would be great.” Skye nodded. “I usually get home about four.” This was her opening, and she laid her trap. “I wasn’t sure if you were finished with the job at Tales and Treats. I thought they might have some repairs for you to do after the break-in.”

“Hell, no!” Flip smacked the arm of his recliner, causing the can of beer in the built-in holder to tremble. “I wouldn’t work for that woman again if she paid double, triple, golden overtime.”

“Risé was hard to work for?” Skye asked innocently, not letting on how much she knew. “I’m surprised her husband didn’t handle the remodeling.”

“He never showed his face. I guess he was too busy baking. And she was a bitch on wheels.” Flip banged down the footrest of his chair. “Then after all the crap I took from her, she tried to stiff me.”

“She wouldn’t pay?”

“She wanted me to take a personal check.” Flip was a big, hulking man, and when he marched over to the coffee table where Ginger had tossed the remote control, the floor shook. “But I told her if it’s not from a local bank, I need cash.”

He resembled the massive stuffed bear that guarded a corner of the family room, and Skye stared at his hands as he fondled the remote. “Did she agree?” Skye asked. His fingers were as large as full-size Snickers bars.

“No. She got all snippy, and I had to tell her I wouldn’t sign off for the building inspection without my money.” Flip stomped back to his La-Z-Boy.

“What happened?” Skye wondered whether Risé thought Flip wouldn’t accept her check because he was planning to cheat on his taxes. The bookstore owner struck her as someone who wouldn’t put up with someone defrauding the government.