Murder of a Bookstore Babe

When Hugo had bought Scumble River’s old hardware store a couple of years ago and turned it into a used-car dealership, the buildings surrounding it had been vacant, which meant he’d been able to use all the parking spaces on the block to stow his inventory. The bookstore was the first business to move in since then.

“And I told you when you asked me the first time, these spots are public property.” Hugo’s smile was smug. “You don’t own them.”

“True.” Risé reached into the pocket of her blue jeans and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “But I’ve been doing a little research.”

“Good for you.” Hugo leaned back on the hood of a blue Dodge Charger with ONE OWNER written across its windshield.

Skye’s attention was riveted to the drama playing out in front of her.

Risé grabbed center stage by shoving the paper into Hugo’s hand and saying, “According to the town statutes, no vehicle may remain parked in the same space for more than twelve consecutive hours.”

“So?” Hugo’s shoulders stayed relaxed under his gray pin-striped suit jacket. “Who’s to say my cars haven’t been moved around?”

Skye watched Risé’s hands tighten into fists. Should she call the police now or wait for the woman to punch out Hugo’s lights? One thing was for sure—this wasn’t her fight, and she wasn’t getting involved. Taking a step backward, Skye put a white Mercury Sable whose sign read LOW MILEAGE between her and the possible combatants.

Risé noted Skye’s movement and shook her head, causing her long brown ponytail to sway back and forth. “I’m not going to hit him,” she said. “Except in his wallet.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hugo sputtered.

Risé held up a finger. “The first parking offense is a fifty-dollar fine—per car.” She held up another finger. “The second offense is a hundred dollars.” A final finger joined the other two. “And the third is impoundment.”

“Again, so?” Hugo sneered. “There’s no way to prove how long my cars have been parked in the same space.”

“Isn’t there?” Risé smiled thinly. “Do you really want to take that risk?”

“There’s no risk involved.” Hugo shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you know who my father is?”

“Santa Claus?” Risé shrugged. “The Easter Bunny?” Her lip curled. “What? There will be a lump of coal in my stocking or I’m not getting any chocolate eggs in my basket?”

“You’re so funny.” Hugo narrowed his cool green eyes. “My father’s the mayor of Scumble River.” He jerked his thumb at Skye. “And my cousin, here, is engaged to the chief of police.”

Skye cringed and hurriedly said, “Not that I’d try to influence him in any legal matters.” She’d been hoping she and the bookstore owner could be friends. Besides, she really didn’t want to be aligned with Hugo.

“Of course not, cuz.” Hugo glanced at his watch. “Anything else? I’ve got to move some metal.” He made an impatient face. “Some of us need to make a living from our business.”

“What do you mean by that?” Risé demanded.

“Let’s just say”—Hugo smirked—“you’re not the only one who’s done a little investigating.”

A faint line dug between the bookstore owner’s brows but was instantly smoothed away. “Scum-sucking bastard,” she declared, then turned on her heel and marched into her shop.

“What was that all about?” Skye demanded.

But before Hugo could respond, Xenia stepped out of the building and said, “Ready to deal, dude?”

While Hugo and Xenia worked out the details of her purchase of the Volkswagen, Skye sat in Hugo’s office and thought about the encounter she had witnessed between her cousin and Risé Vaughn. So far Tales and Treats was two for two. Skye had had only two encounters concerning the shop, and both times the people concerned had a problem with the new business.

All in all, it was not looking like an auspicious beginning for the bookstore.

CHAPTER 3

Remembrance of Things Past

Once the purchase of the Beetle was completed, Skye followed Xenia home, driving the Craughwell family car, which Xenia had borrowed for her trip to Better Than New Autos. Once Skye parked the Sebring in the garage and got into the Volkswagen, Xenia suggested they stop for ice cream before she dropped Skye back at the high school.

“Sounds good.” Skye fastened her seat belt. “Don’t forget to buckle up.”

“Seat belts are too confining.” Xenia put the VW into gear.

“Not as confining as a wheelchair.”

Xenia harrumphed but clicked the belt into place.

“Wasn’t the warning bell bugging you on the drive over?” Skye asked, then realized she hadn’t heard the irritating dinging when she got into the vehicle.

“Nah.” Xenia accelerated. “I disconnected it before leaving the used-car lot.”

Skye opened her mouth to ask how but realized she didn’t really want to know. Instead she changed the subject. “You were pretty rude to Hugo.”

“He got on my last nerve, and I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s true he deserved what you said to him,” Skye allowed, “but either you control your attitude or it controls you.”