Murder by the Bookend Page 22

  “Selina, stop it.” Douglas continued his path toward his wife.

  Selina did not stop. She stepped to another table, the crowd parting, and grabbed handfuls of food, turning to throw this at her approaching husband. “You made me get cheap food”—several slightly mashed petit fours sailed in his direction, falling short—“so we could keep costs down”—two handfuls of what seemed to be stuffed mushrooms came next, their stuffing scattering as they hit the ground in front of Douglas—“but it looks like a tacky potluck”—iced crab legs sailed next, two of them hitting Douglas in the chest—“instead of an elegant ball!”

  Douglas reached her and caught her wrists before she could throw the handfuls of what looked like oysters on the half shell. “Enough, Selina!” The rage fled from his face as she crumpled in a frothy, red pile, sobbing. He slid to the floor with her in his arms, rocking her back and forth.

  “I hate you.” Selina weakly pounded on his chest and hiccupped. “You made me be poor. I hate being poor. I should have been rich. Richer than the whole town. And Linus Talbot screwed it up. And now he’s dead. It serves him right. But I got stuck with you instead, and you screwed it up too.”

  Douglas continued to rock her. “I know. I’m sorry. I love you.” He stroked her back and kissed her hair.

  “I hate you,” Selina repeated, sobbing to punctuate it. “But I’ll show you. I have ways to get money. I don’t need you.”

  She struggled to stand, and Douglas helped her to her feet. The crowd was silent, although a few people were whispering to friends behind their hands.

  “I think the party is over.” Douglas scooped his wife up in his arms like a hero of old.

  Selina promptly puked all over his shirt and her lap, but Douglas never broke stride as he carried the woman he loved—although I couldn’t figure out why—from the room.

  Stunned, I looked up at Rita. “Wow. Just wow.”

  Rita reached for her phone and stuck it into her back pocket. “I know. It almost makes you feel sorry for her.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I didn’t argue. “I don’t get it. She thinks she’s poor?”

  Rita shrugged and took her plate to the sink, having finished her lunch while I watched Selina’s meltdown. “Rich, poor. For some folks those terms don’t mean the same things as they do for everyone else.”

  I took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “I tell you what, though. I’ve never been to a potluck with a chocolate fountain, free-flowing drinks, Champagne, snow crab legs, and oysters on the half shell.”

  Rita chuckled as she closed the food containers. “I guess you haven’t lived, then.”

  “Oh, and you have?” I cocked my head at her.

  “Nope, and I doubt I will.” She put the food in the fridge. “I prefer potlucks with casseroles and dips and messy ribs.”

  “I doubt the caterer is thrilled having their food compared to a tacky potluck and thrown on the floor in a tirade for the world to see.” I popped the last bite into my mouth and stood.

  “Who knows?” Rita grabbed her purse. “She wouldn’t let anyone know who they were. Probably not fancy enough for her.”

  I followed her to the door. “I’d bet they’re glad now.”

  “Probably.” Rita gave me a quick hug. “Take it easy this afternoon, okay? I’ll check back in tonight.”

  I promised her I would and shooed her out the door, Selina’s tirade still in my mind. More specifically, her last words before she was carried out. How had she phrased it? Something about not needing Douglas and having ways to get money without him. I thought of the book thief. Could the person I’d seen destroying the library be Selina March? Had she been the one who tried to kill me?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The rest of the afternoon passed in semi-boredom. I’d napped, binged on more Murder, She Wrote—there was a marathon on TV—and had walked Eddy a couple more times. Both Keith and Rita had stopped by, but I’d refused to let either of them disrupt their schedules to spend the night with me again.

  When Wednesday morning’s sun sent fingers of light through my window, I awoke feeling refreshed and ready for a real day, not a day of being treated like I was breakable. Enough was enough. After walking Eddy and grabbing a bite of breakfast, the two of us went down to the store.

  “Are you sure you’re supposed to be back at work yet?” Mason poured a mug of coffee and handed it to me.

  “It’s been three and a half days.” I accepted the mug and inhaled the aroma. “The doctor even said I could drive by today, so I figure I’m good to go.”

  Mason’s expression said he didn’t believe me. “I guess it’s okay as long as you don’t strain yourself.”

  The door chimes tinkled, and Mason moved off to greet a customer. Eddy and I went to the back room, where I poured over the last few days’ receipts. Mason had done well in my absence. He definitely deserved that raise I’d given him.

  At lunchtime, Eddy and I went upstairs, and I rummaged in the fridge for leftover Chinese food.

  Eddy whined softly at my side.

  “Sorry, buddy. I don’t think you can eat this stuff.” I reached for a package of cheddar cheese slices. “But maybe you can have a bite or two of this.”

  Or could he? I wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be on a limited diet after his recent poisoning, so I grabbed my phone and called the vet’s office, waiting patiently until he came on the line.

  “He can have a few treats, but you know table food isn’t the healthiest food for him anyway.” The vet’s firm tone sounded through the phone.

  “I know, but it’s just a tiny bit here and there.” I reached down to scratch Eddy behind the ears. “I’d definitely never feed him raw ground beef. He probably wouldn’t eat it anyway after getting so sick when he ate it last week.”

  “Jenna, I never said he had ground beef. I said a hamburger.” I heard pages rustling. “As in a cooked hamburger, with onions, spices, cheese, a little bit of mushroom.”

  “Someone slipped him a whole hamburger with mothball flakes inside?” How had I missed that? I think I’d have noticed Eddy gobbling down a Big Mac.

  “How he ingested it, I cannot say. I can only say what he threw up.” More papers rustling. “I’d like to see him in another week to run one more blood panel for liver numbers, if you don’t mind. But the likelihood is that he’s just fine.”

  I thanked him and hung up, my mind stuck on the fact that I’d missed my dog eating a hamburger. Something niggled at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe my memory wasn’t quite as up to snuff as I’d hoped after the whack on the head.

  Refusing to spend the afternoon racking my brain, I returned to the store for the last few work hours of the day. Eddy greeted customers, play-bowed and ran down the aisle with two young children, and napped in the sunshine pouring in through the glass front door. All in all, a good day.

  After we closed, I returned to my apartment, looking forward to another episode or two of Murder, She Wrote. I was getting hooked on that show. A firm knock propelled me off the couch and to my front door.

  Keith stepped inside, to-go bags in his hands. “I brought dinner so you wouldn’t have to cook.” He leaned in to kiss me.

  I pulled one of the bags from his hand and opened it on the way to the kitchen, peeking in at the contents. “What did you bring?”

  “Hmm, let’s see … slug soup, dirt balls, and last week’s boiled cabbage.” His expression remained deadpan.

  I moaned and rubbed my stomach. “Sounds delicious. I can’t wait.”

  “I stopped across the street and picked up a few things.” He opened a couple of Styrofoam clamshell containers.

  Heavenly smells of hot wings, beer-battered onion rings, cheese sticks, and stuffed mushrooms filled the air. I placed the items on the counter, inhaling deeply as I lifted each dish from the bag.

  Keith grabbed plates from the kitchen, handing one to me across the counter. “I thought finger foods would be fun t
onight.”

  “It’s perfect.” I popped a stuffed mushroom into my mouth, savoring the mix of flavors. I froze. Hamburger. Onions. Spices. Cheese. Mushroom. Wasn’t that what had been used to mask the flavors of the mothball flakes? I grabbed a mushroom and squished it on my plate, peeling through it with my fingers.

  “Honey, what are you doing?” Keith handed me a napkin. “Is there something wrong with the mushrooms?”

  “This … this is what poisoned Eddy.” I gestured at the demolished mushroom on my plate. “Where did you get these?”

  “The Weeping Willow.” He stepped to my side, prodding at the mess with a finger. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded, reaching for my phone. “I need to talk to them.” I searched for The Weeping Willow and pressed the phone icon on their web page to call them.

  “Thanks for calling The Weeping Willow. This is Lily.”

  “Hi, I live across the street, and I’m thinking about hosting a get-together. Do you guys cater? And if so, do you offer stuffed mushrooms on the catering menu? I love those things.” I waved a dismissive hand at Keith’s odd look.

  Lily’s perky voice sounded through the line again. “I know we do catering, but the owner handles that side of things. I’d be happy to pass your information along to her when she’s in tomorrow.”

  Frustrated, I plopped onto a stool. “What time will she be in?”

  “Sometime after ten. Would you like to leave a message?” Paper rustled in the background.

  “No, thank you. I’ll try to call back in the morning.” I touched the end icon on my screen after we said our polite goodbyes and dropped the phone to the bar top.

  “What was that about?” Keith slid an empty plate in front of me.

  I reached for the closest to-go box and opened it. Mushrooms. I pushed them away. “I talked to the vet today. He said Eddy was poisoned with a mix of cooked hamburger, spices, onion, mushroom, and cheese mixed together with the mothballs.”

  Keith nodded. “I gathered that much from the mushroom destruction earlier.”

  “I also talked to Rita today. She had a video of Selina having a complete meltdown at her event on Friday night. During her tirade, she threw stuffed mushrooms, among other things, at her husband.” I picked up my phone and showed Keith the YouTube video.

  “You weren’t kidding about a meltdown.” Keith handed my phone back after he’d finished. “You’re thinking because Selina is a suspect and she had mushrooms at her event, maybe she poisoned him?”

  I nodded. “Am I stretching it a bit too far?”

  Keith’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Eddy was poisoned two days before her event, so it’s not like she scooped up some of the leftovers to take home for her mad-scientist plan.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “But I feel like there’s some connection there. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just desperate to find out who did this, so it’ll all be over.” I stared down into my empty plate. “How do you do it?”

  “What?” He crunched an onion ring.

  “Come so close to getting the information you need, only to have to wait longer or not get the information at all.” I reached for the container of hot wings and slid three onto my plate.

  Keith shrugged. “Welcome to the life of a detective, sweetheart.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” I snagged a cheese stick and dipped it into the sauce Keith had opened while I was on the phone.

  “Every day. But it’s part of the job.” Keith bit into a hot wing, sauce staining his fingers.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know if I could do it. I’m not that patient.”

  Keith’s gaze met mine, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Sometimes being patient brings the most amazing results.” He winked at me.

  My stomach flip-flopped, and I almost choked on the bite of cheese stick I was swallowing. Lord, this man would be the death of me. I could see the headlines now. “The Bookstore of Death Claims Another Life: Owner Chokes on Cheese Stick.”

  Eddy whistled softly at my feet, and I glanced down to see his gaze glued to the cheese stick I still held in my hand. Tension broken, I laughed and broke off a piece for my furry roommate, dropping it to the floor for him to gobble.

  Okay, so I shouldn’t encourage him to beg at the table. But after all he’d been through, I figured that training could wait a few more days. I shoved aside thoughts of murder and poisons, refusing to allow them to mar an evening with my two favorite guys.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I sat at a bar-height table at The Weeping Willow, waiting for the owner to appear. I’d arrived early, but it seemed she was late, due to a traffic accident delay on her way to work. By ten fifteen, I had ordered a sweet tea, so the staff would quit eyeing me oddly. At ten thirty, it was still too early for lunch, and I’d eaten a healthy breakfast consisting of a pop tart and a glass of chocolate milk—okay, I’d channeled my inner six-year-old that morning—so I sat nursing my sweet tea, hoping it didn’t add too much to my ongoing sugar high.

  At 10:43, the door swung open, and by the reactions of the staff, who all became very industrious, I guessed the woman entering must be the owner. One of the servers caught her and whispered to her, pointing in my direction. The woman glanced at me, nodded and waved, and walked into the back room.

  A few minutes later, she greeted me at my table, sans coat and purse. “Hi, I’m Willow Gaddon. Lily says you’re looking for a caterer?” She laid a thin, bound book of some sort on the table and slid onto an open stool, an expectant look on her face.

  I winced, hating that I’d misled the woman before I’d even met her. But I was worried that if I told her I was trying to find out if someone had come in and had used her food to poison my dog, she might clam up and refuse to talk to me. I shoved Mom’s voice aside and kept up the pretense.

  “Yes, I’m considering a party, but I’m really not sure yet. I may not have it.” There, I’d at least left it open that this might not turn into a job for her. “I live nearby, and I thought I’d find out if you catered.”

  “Aren’t you the lady with the bookstore across the street?” Willow gestured in my store’s direction.

  Crap. She knew who I was. But then, what had I expected? “Yes, I am.”

  She turned and eyed my store suspiciously. “Oh, okay.”

  Was she kidding me? Did she think if she catered, someone would get murdered during her event? I took a deep breath. Let it go, Jenna. I smiled.

  With less enthusiasm than she’d had when she got to the table, Willow slid the book across the table to me. “Here’s my catering menu. Let’s see if there’s anything that piques your interest.”

  I opened the book to find a catering menu printed, a picture of each item as it would be displayed on the serving dish next to each description. After looking through the pictures, I noted there were lists of suggested items that went well together, or I could select items à la carte.

  “There are a lot of selections.” I flipped back to the beginning and slid my fingers through the pages of offered dishes, locating each of the things Selina had thrown at her husband.

  “I try to ensure each client has the catered event she wants, rather than limiting the menu to what I like.” Willow smiled, although it didn’t reach her eyes.

  I widened my eyes and raised my eyebrows, hoping I wasn’t laying it on too thickly. “I see several things Selina March had at her event. The food was amazing. Were you the caterer? She wouldn’t tell us who did it. She said it was her little secret.”

  Willow nodded, and this time her smile was genuine. “Yes, I catered for her.”

  “Wow.” I slid my gaze over her menu again. “She has the best taste. She must eat here often.” I glanced up.

  “No, not really.” Willow shook her head. “They called three days before the event. Seems there was a problem with her caterer.”

  Problem with their caterer? More likely that Douglas demanded she spend less money. “And you put it together that fast
?” I widened my eyes again in mock amazement.

  Willow leaned back and crossed her legs. “Normally, I expect more time, but when Selina March calls … let’s just say she can make or break a business with her reviews of service. So I made it happen. They dropped by the next afternoon to taste samples, and I delivered on time.”

  I had no doubt Selina’s acid tongue could destroy a business with the local women. If Selina really was the queen of local high society, others would follow her lead, even if they disagreed with her. It was like grown-up mean girls.

  “You sure couldn’t tell it was a rush job.” I slid the book back across the table. “Everything was delicious. I’ll definitely consider you if I host that party.”

  The wary look returned to Willow’s face as she stood. “I appreciate that. Thank you for inquiring.”

  My stomach sank when she cast another sidelong glance at my store before hurrying to the back room. I had to get this murder solved, and fast, before I ended up as the town’s little shop of horrors.

  I grabbed my purse and stepped outside. When I walked across the street and into the bookstore, Eddy greeted me at the door.

  “Hey, sweet boy.” I scratched his back and grinned at his bicycling leg. “Have you been good?”

  “He licked Mr. Hickle’s granddaughter’s lollypop. Then he stuck his nose in Mrs. Hickle’s purse and snagged one of his own.” Mason stepped from behind the counter, drawing my attention. “Not his best day as a salesman. We had to chase him through the store so he didn’t eat the thing, paper, stick, and all.”

  I looked back at Eddy. “Really?” I cocked my head at him.

  At my scolding tone, he sat and wagged his tail, head bowed a little.

  Unable to even pretend to be mad at him, I pulled his leash from under the counter and snapped it onto his collar. “Maybe a walk will settle you down a bit.”

  Eddy bounced to the door, and we set out. Twenty minutes later, Eddy was calmer, and my stomach was telling me it was now late enough to be lunchtime. I left Eddy with Mason and headed to the parking lot, dialing my phone as I went.