Murder of a Bookstore Babe

CHAPTER 7

The Picture of Dorian Gray

Asquad car squealed to a stop in front of Tales and Treats, but its lights weren’t flashing and its siren was silent. Wally Boyd jumped out and sprinted toward Skye, who was slumped in one of the shop’s outdoor wrought-iron chairs. As the chief of the Scumble River Police Department, Wally worked days Monday through Friday, but knowing he’d want to be first on the scene involving a death, Skye had called him directly rather than dialing 911. Evidently, he’d stopped at the police station to pick up a cruiser before coming to the store.

Wally’s warm brown eyes held a hint of concern as he gathered her into his arms, but his tone was light. “You can’t even visit a bookstore without finding a body, can you, darlin’?”

“Guess not.” Skye buried her face in his muscular chest, not wanting him to see her tears. Unfortunately he was right; she’d stumbled across several corpses in the past, and it never got any easier. At least this time it appeared to be a tragic accident rather than a murder.

Wally settled her back into her chair and handed her a starched white handkerchief. “I’ll go take a look and be right back.”

Skye nodded, blotting under her eyes and blowing her nose.

Wally returned a few minutes later. He tucked his cell phone into his shirt pocket and said, “Reid is on his way. He was on I-55 heading to Joliet when I called him, and he had to find a place to turn around.”

“Okay.”

“Are you up to telling me about it while we wait for him?”

“Of course.” Skye took a deep breath. “Yesterday, at the grand opening, I mentioned to Orlando Erwin that I had inherited a bunch of old books.”

“The boxes you have stacked in one of the upstairs bedrooms?”

“Right,” Skye confirmed. “Anyway, Orlando is an expert in rare books and first editions, and he offered to take a look at what I had, to see if there was anything valuable.”

“Is that why you were here when the store was closed? You were meeting him for an appraisal?”

“Uh-huh.” Her teeth caught her lower lip and worked it for a moment. “But there weren’t any lights on and he wasn’t around.”

“How did you get inside the building?” Wally ran his fingers through his short black hair, ruffling the silver strands at his temples.

“The door was off the latch,” Skye said. “I thought Orlando had left it open for me, so I went inside.”

“I take it he wasn’t there.”

“No. And the main room was dark.” Skye crumpled Wally’s white linen hanky. “I figured he was in the café since he does all the baking.”

“So you went in there?”

“Not exactly.” Skye straightened the hem on her black skirt. “The boxes of books I was carrying were really heavy, and I didn’t want to put them on the floor since it’s so hard to lift them from there, so I headed towards the counter.”

“In the dark?”

“Yeah.” Wally’s dubious tone made her recognize how silly her reasoning sounded, and she rushed to explain, “You see, I’d just been in the store yesterday, and I knew there wasn’t anything blocking the path between me and the register.”

“But . . .”

“But then my foot bumped into something.” Skye swallowed hard, realizing that what she’d thought was a melon had actually been a human head.

“Is that when you called me?”

“First, I put the boxes down and felt the barrier, trying to figure out what it was. Then I found the switch and turned on the lights.” Skye blanched. “When I saw that the humongous rare-book cabinet had fallen and crushed someone underneath it, that’s when I called you. Once you were on the way, I came out here to wait.”

“Which was exactly the right thing to do,” Wally reassured her.

“Thank you.” Skye’s smile was halfhearted. “I aim to please.”

Wally got up.

“Are you going back inside?” Skye asked.

“Yes.” Wally leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I need to take a walk through the rest of the store to see if we have a second victim.”

“You don’t think it’s an accident?” Skye asked, chewing on her thumbnail.

“I have no idea, but the question is, where’s Orlando?” Wally walked toward the open door. “And if that’s his wife in there, why hasn’t he come looking for her?”

“Oh, my.” Skye followed Wally and peered inside. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s the million-dollar question, all righty.”

Skye paced up and down the sidewalk, thoughts ricocheting through her mind like pennies in a clothes dryer. Where was Orlando? How had the cabinet fallen over? She paused in midstep, another worry popping up. How would this affect Xavier’s investment? Scanning the street in both directions, she was relieved to see that the police car hadn’t attracted any onlookers. For once she was thankful that there were so few businesses left in this part of town. But could Orlando run the store without his wife? Would he even want to?

The minutes ticked by as if each was an eternity, and Skye was getting nervous. Maybe Wally should have radioed for backup before going inside the store. Before she could decide whether to check on him or call the PD for help, Simon pulled his Lexus behind the squad car. He jogged toward her carrying a black doctor’s case. She knew the bag contained a camera, stethoscope, flashlight, rubber gloves, and liver thermometer. The body bag would arrive with Xavier in the hearse.

“Are you okay?” Simon’s brow was furrowed and his knuckles were white. “What happened?”

Skye explained, adding, “Do you know where Orlando and Risé are living?”

“I thought they were living above the store.” Simon glanced at the second-story windows. “But I must be wrong, because if they were upstairs, surely they’d have come down to see what’s going on.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” Skye hadn’t mentioned who the victim was or that Orlando was MIA. “But I did hear that they were having some problem with the carpenter who was handling the remodeling, so maybe the apartment isn’t done yet.”

“That’s probably it.”

“Why do things like this happen?” Skye tilted her head, regarding Simon with an anguished expression. “Every time something good comes to Scumble River, something bad seems to follow.”

As Simon put an arm around Skye, Wally walked up to them. “No one’s in there except the vic. So whenever you’re through hugging my fiancée, feel free to do your job, Reid.”

“Oh, put a sock in it, Boyd.” Simon gave Skye’s shoulder one last squeeze, then pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. “Let’s see what we have.”

Glaring at Simon, Wally followed him into the store.

When Wally returned, Skye was once again sitting in the wrought-iron chair. It seemed like hours since the two men had gone inside, and she was staring at her cell phone thinking she should call someone. But who? The chief of police and the coroner were already on site. The only one missing was Xavier with the hearse.

Wally sat down beside her. “Do you have any idea where Risé and Orlando are staying?” It was getting warmer as the sun grew stronger, and Wally rolled up the sleeves of his denim shirt. Since he’d been off duty when Skye called, he wasn’t in uniform and wore jeans and sneakers. “The emergency number the police station has for Tales and Treats is disconnected—it must have been for their house in the city—and there’s no other phone listed.”

“No, I don’t know where they’re staying.”

“How about employees? Does anyone local work for them?”

“They have one clerk,” Skye answered, then shook her head. “I could try to get in touch with her, but she doesn’t exactly live in any one place.”

“Great.” Wally shook his head. “Any other ideas before we start trying to track her down?”

Skye opened her mouth to suggest asking Xavier but instead said, “Can I go inside?” Even though she couldn’t see why Simon would care if she told Wally that Xavier and the store owners were friends, she had promised not to reveal anything he had told her yesterday. So letting him know that she was going to disclose that relationship seemed like the right thing to do.

“Why? Nothing’s going on in there right now.” Wally absently rubbed the muscles in his tanned forearms. “I had to call for help to lift the cabinet. Even though it weighs a ton, I could slide it off, but Reid insists it has to come straight up.”

“I . . . uh . . . need to tell Simon something.” Skye made her voice sound casual.

Wally raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I’ll tell you after I talk to him.” Skye tilted her head and tried to look innocent. “Okay?”

“Fine.” He jerked his head toward the store. “Don’t touch anything.”

“Sure.” She got up, then hesitated. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“Go.” Wally’s tone was irritated.

Simon was taking pictures of the cabinet from various angles when Skye approached him and said, “I need to tell Wally about Xavier’s connection with this store.”

“No.” Simon stopped what he was doing and turned toward her. “You promised not to tell anyone, particularly Boyd.”

“We need a phone number for Orlando.” Skye ignored the accusation in his voice. Simon knew the situation had changed, and he was being unreasonable. “The emergency contact info at the police station must be old.”

“Then you don’t have to tell Boyd about the investment, just that Xavier and Orlando are old army buddies, right?”

“Yes.” Skye thought for a moment. “That’s all I’ll say as long as this is an accidental death.” She gestured to the cabinet without looking at it. She really didn’t want to see poor Risé again. “But if the situation changes . . .”

“Right.” Simon sighed. “I know.”

Xavier was getting out of the hearse when Skye walked outside. His normally pale complexion was even pastier than usual, his expression was apprehensive, and he was wringing his hands. She should have realized that when Simon called him for a pickup at Tales and Treats, he’d be worried the victim was one of the store owners. Poor guy. The loss of Risé would hit him hard. He didn’t have many close friends.

As soon as Skye explained Xavier’s friendship with the store owners, Wally hurried over to the hearse.

The two men spoke quietly for a couple of minutes; then Skye heard Xavier say, “They’re staying at the Up A Lonely River Motor Court. They’re supposed to move into their apartment above the store Monday afternoon after the building inspector green-lights the remodeling.”

Darn! Skye exhaled loudly. Her godfather, “Uncle” Charlie Patukas, was the owner and manager of the motor court, president of the school board, and Scumble River’s most influential citizen. He was also one of the biggest gossips in the county. They’d have to be cagey if they didn’t want news of the fatality to be all around town by nightfall. It would be even worse if Skye’s mother were the dispatcher on duty, but May didn’t work on Sundays.

Before Wally could make the call to Orlando, Anthony, one of the part-time police officers, parked his truck behind the hearse and jumped out.

He waved a fistful of bright orange straps and said, “I brought these. Dad uses them to move appliances when he’s on a job alone.”

“Good thinking.” Wally smiled. “Glove up. Then go on inside and get things set with Reid. I’ll be there in a second.”

Anthony touched his finger to the brim of his baseball cap. “Sure thing, Chief.” He nodded to Skye, then rushed past her into the store.

While Xavier got the gurney and body bag from the back of the hearse, Wally joined Skye on the sidewalk. “Would you mind calling Orlando at the motor court?”

“Not at all.” Skye powered up her cell phone. “What should I say?”

“Just tell him there’s an emergency and he’s needed here immediately.”

“Okay.” Skye started punching in the number to the motor court, one she knew by heart. “Should I mention our missed appointment if Uncle Charlie wants to know why I want to talk to Orlando?”

“That’s a great idea.” Wally squeezed her free hand. “The longer we can keep the death quiet, the better.”

As Wally strode over the shop’s threshold, Skye turned her attention to the phone.

A second later, Charlie answered, “Up A Lazy River Motor Court.”

“Hi, Uncle Charlie. It’s Skye. Could you put me through to Orlando Erwin’s cottage?”

“Why do you want to talk to him?” Charlie was nearly as bad as May in wanting to control Skye’s life.

Skye explained, ending with, “Have you seen him around today?”

“Can’t say as I have,” Charlie said, his voice thoughtful. “Not real good business to miss appointments with customers.”

“Maybe he forgot.” Skye kept her tone light. “But I do need to talk to him to reschedule.”

“You going to your ma’s for supper tonight?” Charlie was in no hurry to forward the call.

“Probably not.” Skye resigned herself to a few minutes of chitchat. “You?”

“Sure.” Charlie chuckled. “I never miss one of May’s Sunday dinners if I can help it.”

“They are good,” Skye agreed.

“So you want to talk to that book fellow?”

“Yeah. I’d really like to get rid of these old books.” Skye crossed her fingers. “And I’m in sort of a hurry.”

“Okay. I’ll ring his room now. Take care, honey.”

“Thanks, Uncle Charlie.” Phew. She’d made it past the first hurdle.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice answered on the first ring.

Skye frowned. “May I speak to Orlando Erwin, please? Skye Denison calling.” Had Charlie put her through to the wrong cottage?

“Hello, Skye. He’s not here right now. This is Risé.”

Oh. My. God! Skye stared at her cell as if it had turned into a rattlesnake. If Risé was on the phone, that meant that . . . Oh, no—she’d made the same mistake yesterday, but this time she’d assumed that the tiny brunette was the store owner when it was really Kayla.

“Skye, are you there?” Risé’s tone was brusque. “Why did you want to talk to Orlando? I’m sorry if he missed an appointment or something, but this isn’t a good time. Try him later on at the store.”

“Uh, wait. Don’t hang up.” Skye wasn’t sure what to say, and she knew she had to tell Wally immediately that Risé was not the woman who had been crushed. “I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s an emergency at Tales and Treats. You need to come down here right away.”

“What—”

Skye cut her off. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

“But—”

Flipping the phone closed, Skye cut off Risé again and rushed inside the shop. She heard, “One.” The men had threaded moving straps under and around the cabinet. “Two.” Wally held one end and Anthony held the other. “Three.”

Skye waited to speak while Wally and Anthony heaved the cabinet to an upright position and Simon and Xavier steadied it against the wall.

Once she was sure the cabinet was secure, Skye pointed to the body. “That’s not Risé Vaughn.”

“Then who is it?” Simon asked.

“It’s Kayla!” a voice cried from the doorway. “It’s my Kayla!