Миранда Джеймс - Arsenic And Old Books

I shook my head. “No, after that wonderful meal and the big breakfast Azalea cooked, I’d better not. Otherwise I’ll have to run to Memphis and back to work it all off.”

We shared a laugh, and Helen Louise said, “I’ll be back in a minute,” before she walked away with the plates.

“We’re going to have to get back to work,” I told Diesel, who stared longingly after Helen Louise. He wanted more chicken, but he’d had more than enough already. He turned to me and meowed. “I want to stop by the bookstore first, though. We haven’t been in there lately, and I want to see what’s new.”

The cat meowed again. I thought he recognized the word bookstore . He liked going to the Athenaeum, the town’s only independent bookstore. The owner, Jordan Thompson, always made a fuss over him. Today, however, I would have to tell her not to give him any cat treats. Otherwise, he might have to join me on that jog to Memphis and back.

While I waited for Helen Louise to return, I decided I might as well make a restroom stop before we left. “Come on, boy,” I told Diesel and picked up his leash.

I had taken only a couple of steps when I saw Jasper Singletary return to the dining room. As I moved closer, I saw him pause right by Kelly Grimes’s vacated table and pull out a cell phone. He stared down at it, and if I hadn’t been watching closely, I would have missed what happened next.

With his free hand he picked up something from the table and thrust it into his pocket. He stared at the cell phone a moment longer, and then he tucked it back into its holster on his belt. He strode toward the door and nodded at me as we passed each other.

More strange behavior. There was definitely something afoot. What had he scooped up from the table? I pondered that as I completed my business in the restroom. Diesel waited patiently near me.

I couldn’t really see what Jasper had picked up, but it had to be something small. The writer had been scribbling in a notebook earlier, so perhaps it was a piece of paper. A note of some kind?

That sounded probable. But why the secret communication, if it was indeed a note?

Back at the table, where Helen Louise waited, I told her what I’d seen. She grimaced. “ Incroyable! Sounds almost like CIA stuff, and that’s just plain silly.”

I shrugged. “It’s politics, so who knows? If I run into Maxwell Smart or Ninety-nine, I’ll ask them to look into it.”

Helen Louise laughed at my reference to the old sixties television show. “It had better be Maxwell. Ninety-nine is far too attractive.”

I gave her a quick kiss, and we said good-bye. “Come on, Diesel. Time for the bookstore.”

The bookstore was only a short walk from the bakery. The early afternoon sun was hot, but most of the storefronts had awnings. Diesel and I kept in the shade on the way, but I was feeling sweaty by the time we opened the door at the Athenaeum and stepped inside.

As I let the door swing shut behind Diesel and me, I paused to drink in the smells and the atmosphere of the bookstore. There was no place I liked better, except a library. To be surrounded by so many books made me happy. The large space—around four thousand square feet—contained many freestanding shelves, and all the walls were lined with them as well. Comfortable chairs were scattered about, creating small nooks where a customer could relax and check out a few pages of possible purchases.

Soft classical music wafted through the space, and I recognized a Telemann oboe sonata. Perfect mood music for browsing. I didn’t see the owner, Jordan Thompson, anywhere, but the tall redhead would be easy to spot. Diesel meowed, and I knew he was urging me to go in search of Jordan.

“No treats,” I told him as we moved farther into the store. I saw only four customers in the front area. I headed toward the back, where the mysteries were shelved. Jordan had a shelf there for the latest arrivals, and I wanted to see what new titles might tempt me.

I heard the murmur of voices in the back corner of the section as I approached. I paused by the new arrivals shelf to scan the titles, and I picked up one hardcover with an intriguing cover illustration. An old house on the cover always snagged my interest, and this one looked promising. When I realized it was a ghost story, though, I put it back. I liked ghost stories occasionally, but I wasn’t in the mood for one now.

Diesel muttered, but I ignored him. He wanted to find Jordan, but I wasn’t going to let him loose in here. He would have to wait. Besides, I realized, she might not even be here. One of her assistants could be running the store instead.

I moved toward the back of the section against the wall and the beginning of the alphabet. A tall, freestanding set of shelves separated me from the continuation of the section around the corner. The sound of voices grew louder the closer I came to the back wall.

With a start, I recognized the voices and halted.

“How long before you find out anything worthwhile?” Jasper Singletary sounded impatient. “The evidence ought to be there somewhere; you just have to find it. My grandmother swears to it.”

“I’m doing my best,” Kelly Grimes responded, sounding exasperated. “I told you, I have to have access if I’m going to look, and I haven’t been able to get access. If someone would just push Marie Steverton over a cliff, that would help.”

Diesel chose that moment to start chirping—loudly—and the conversation on the other side of the shelf ceased. I turned to see Jordan Thompson headed our way, and Diesel strained at the leash to go to her. I let him go and turned back to listen, hoping to hear more.

I heard the sound of stealthy footsteps. I stepped around the shelf to the other side, but all I saw were the backs of the rapidly retreating pair.

“Hey, there, Charlie.” Jordan Thompson claimed my attention, and I walked around the shelf to see her squatting down so that her head was level with the cat’s. They rubbed noses, and Jordan laughed, her short, curly red hair bouncing around her head.

“Afternoon, Jordan,” I said. “Diesel and I thought we’d drop by, since we haven’t been here in at least a week.” Even though I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, I was sorry Diesel and Jordan had interrupted whatever was going on between Jasper Singletary and Kelly Grimes. I had a fleeting thought about the note—if that was what it was—Singletary picked up from the table in the bakery. Perhaps it set up this little assignation.

“I know,” Jordan said, “and my cash register is feeling it.” She grinned. “Seriously, it’s always good to see you two. How about a T-R-E-A-T for my buddy here?”

I shook my head. “No, your buddy has a tummy full of Helen Louise’s chicken, and he doesn’t need another bite.”

Jordan looked down at the cat. Diesel gazed expectantly up at her, thinking his treat would soon be forthcoming. “Sorry, boy,” she said. “Next time make sure you drag Charlie in here before lunch, okay?”

The cat meowed, and Jordan and I shared a grin. All he probably understood was that he wasn’t getting a treat. He continued to stare up at Jordan, however. He was an optimistic cat.

“I’ll try to remember,” I promised.

“Why don’t y’all come back up by the register?” Jordan cocked her head in that direction. “I’ve got a few things set aside for you that I think you might like.”

That was all I needed to hear. Service like this was the reason I loved shopping at the bookstore, rather than online.

From the shelves behind the main counter Jordan retrieved a stack of five paperback books, each of them the latest entry in series I enjoyed.

“They showed up just this morning,” Jordan said. “I was going to call you earlier but I got busy.”