Leighann Dobbs - Mystic Notch 01 - Ghostly Paws (7 page)

Inside the box was a wonderful set of five poetry books bound in rich brown leather with gold leaf on the edges of the pages. I carefully carried them to the poetry section and made room for them on the shelf at eye level.

“I shall tell you with a sigh, the poetry section needs some bulking up.”

I gasped, momentarily startled at the voice in my ear, then turned to see the ghostly figure of Robert Frost at my side. The poet’s ghost often hung around here in the poetry section where I had quite a collection of his books—he’d lived in New Hampshire while writing many of his poems, and his books were quite popular here.

I scanned the shelf critically. “You know what, Robert? You’re right. These shelves are practically bare.”

“Oh, and you could use some more historical books, too,” a voice piped up several aisles down in the history section. I recognized the ghost as that of Franklin Pierce, the only US President from New Hampshire. He hung around here, too.
 

I had no idea why they choose to hang around in the bookstore, but they seemed like nice guys. At first, it was a little off-putting, but once I got used to them, I realized they could actually be good company … except when they were arguing or being mischievous. You wouldn’t expect it from such proper gentlemen, but I’d seen them run off giggling after knocking a book off a shelf in front of a customer, just to startle them.
 

Anyway, they were both right. I
did
need to get some fresh stock.
 

I remembered that both Barry and Maggie had called about books they’d picked up for me. I’d been so busy trying to find Lavinia’s killer, I hadn’t had time to go pick up the books. Well, I’d just have to make time.

“Did someone call me?” Lavinia materialized in the middle of the aisle.

“Sure, now you show up … where were you when I was calling you at my house?”

Lavinia straightened, eyeing Robert and Franklin. “Well, now, we ghosts can’t be at your beck and call, you know. There’s lots to do on the other side.”

“Are you going to introduce us?” Franklin raised a brow as he glided toward me.

“Where are your manners?” Robert asked.

I introduced them all and they swirled misty greetings to each other. I guess ghosts didn’t just shake hands.
 

“Anyway, did you need something?” Lavinia asked.

“I was wondering if there was anyone who had a grudge against you. You know … who might have wanted you … dead.”

“No one. I don’t think it had anything to do with me,” Lavinia said. “They were in the library before me. It must have been something in the library.”

“You mean you were murdered?” Franklin’s eyes widened. “My dear, how … exciting.”

“Yes, do tell us all about it.” Robert drifted toward the end of the aisle and Lavinia followed, the three of them fading away as they chatted about Lavinia’s murder.
 

“At least she won’t be bugging me today,” I said to Pandora as I unlocked the door and turned the shop sign to ‘Open’.

Slipping back behind the counter, I set about examining the rest of the books. I was almost done when the bells over the door jingled. I looked up in time to see Hattie, Cordelia, Josiah and Bing come in, carrying the usual Styrofoam cups. Josiah had gotten mine this time and he pushed it across the counter toward me.

I flipped the plastic tab and took a sip, the bitter coffee warming my veins.

“Are you going to Lavinia’s service tomorrow?” Hattie asked.
 

Lavinia materialized, peeking around the edge of one of the bookshelves, her ear cocked to hear the conversation.

“Yessuh,” Josiah said. “I hear there’s no viewing.”

“Nope, the family didn’t want it.” Cordelia said. “Said they were being hounded enough by the press now that it’s been deemed a murder.”

“Did you know that, Willa?” Bing turned to me.

“I just found out,” I said, watching Lavinia make motions of her nose growing like Pinocchio telling a lie.
 

“Is something wrong over there?” Hattie leaned forward in her seat, looking toward the spot where Lavinia was. Of course, she couldn’t see her.
 

“No, I just noticed the books are out of order. I’ll have to straighten them later,” I said.

“Well, anyway, it’s all over town about the murder,” Hattie continued. “Who do you think did it?”

Yes, Willa. You’re the crime journalist,” Josiah cocked his head at me. “Who do
you
think did it?”

I shrugged. “I’m at a loss. You guys know the townspeople better than I. Do you have any idea who would want to hurt Lavinia?”

The four of them shook their heads.

“I don’t.”

“Can’t think of a soul.”

“Everyone liked Lavinia.”

“Maybe it wasn’t about Lavinia,” Cordelia said. “Maybe she just got in the way.”

Hattie frowned at her sister. “In the way of what?”

“Someone who wanted to take something from the library,” Josiah said.
 

“But there’s nothing, ‘cept old books in there.” Cordelia wrinkled up her face and turned to me. “None of those books have any value, do they?”

I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”

“Not the books,” Josiah said. “There are some valuable bronzes in there.”

“Oh, you mean that bust of Franklin Pierce?” Cordelia asked.

“That one’s not worth much. The real treasures are the ones by Frederick Remington.”

“You mean the horse ones?” Hattie asked.
 

Josiah nodded. “Most people think they are replicas, but I’m pretty sure a few of those are originals. I remember back in sixty-five when Idris Bates donated them to the library. It was quite a to-do back then. ‘Course, as the years have gone by, people have forgotten about them.”

I looked at Josiah, open-mouthed. Although my area of expertise was antique books, I’d picked up enough information on general antiques to know that an original Remington bronze bust could be worth hundreds of thousands. Heck, even the good replicas are worth thousands.

“I don’t remember ever noticing the busts in there,” I said.

“Most people don’t. Over the years they got shuffled around.” Josiah turned to Bing. “Bing, you remember those don’t you. I seem to recall even back then you had an interest in bronzes.”

Bing nodded. “Now that you mention it, I do remember. I did have quite a collection of bronzes in my younger days, but I don’t collect them anymore. Never had a Remington, though.”

I remembered that Bing had an extensive collection of antiques, many of which he’d acquired from various parts of the world where he’d performed as a magician. He’d been collecting since he was a boy. When I was young, I used to love to go to his house and look at all the old stuff. He had a treasure trove of items stuffed in the attic, basement and barns. It was no surprise he’d collected a bronze or two in his day.

Josiah looked back at me. “You younger people wouldn’t remember. They weren’t worth nearly as much at the time they were donated, so no one paid much mind to what happened to them and they got moved downstairs.”

Downstairs … where Lavinia’s body was found.

“Gosh, I had forgotten all about those,” Cordelia said.

Hattie looked at the group solemnly. “Maybe someone else remembered about them and broke in to steal them.”

“… And Lavinia stumbled across them and they killed her!” Cordelia added.

“Were any of the statues missing from the library?” Josiah asked me.

“I’m not sure, but you can bet I’m going to find out,” I said.

“Well, then, I think I’ll be on my way.” Josiah pushed himself up from the couch. “I’ll ask around about the bronzes and let you know if I come up with anything.”

“Us, too,” Cordelia and Hattie chorused, then gave each other a knuckle tap as they rose from the couch.

Bing got up with the others. I noticed he’d been unusually quiet.
 

“I wish you’d be careful if you are going to look into this, Willa,” he said as he followed the others out the door. “There’s a killer on the loose and now that the police are on it, it might be best to leave it to them.”

“I’ll be careful,” I promised.

Bing looked like he was going to say something else, then he must have decided better of it as he turned and disappeared out the door.
 

Chapter Eleven

I finished sorting through the rest of the box, then left a message for Barry letting him know I’d be out to his place tomorrow to pick up the books he was holding for me. Maggie was in New York on a buying trip, so I’d have to wait until she got back to pick up the books from her.

It was a slow day, but between inventorying the new stock and putting the books on the shelf, I’d made a few sales, one of which was a book on US Presidents. I wondered how the buyer would feel if he knew Franklin Pierce was standing behind him nodding his approval as I rang up the sale.

I was taking a break in one of the purple chairs when the bells over the door jangled and Pepper came in, holding a tray of tea and finger sandwiches.

“It’s slow over at the tea shop, so I left Camilla in charge and brought you some lunch.” She set the tray on the table and sat beside me.

My stomach growled at the sight of the tiny sandwiches—thin white bread, cut into triangles with the crusts removed.
 

“Is that ham salad?” I asked as I reached for a sandwich.

“Yes, with pickles.”

I loaded my plate with three of them, and poured some tea into the dainty china cup. Pepper had a collection of antique teacups that she used in her shop and this one had a thick gold lining inside and big yellow roses on the outside.
 

I poured some cream into the cup, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. “You didn’t put anything special in here, did you?”

Pepper laughed. “Nope. No special herbs in there, don’t worry.”

I bit into the sandwich, reveling in the burst of sweet ham and tangy pickle. “Nummy,” I mumbled with my mouth full.

“So, did you find out any more about Lavinia’s killer? I heard it’s an official murder investigation now.” Pepper settled back on the sofa, taking a teensy nibble from one of the molasses cookies stacked up on the tray.
 

I told her about the incident behind the library.

“Augusta must think this is serious if she called in Eddie Striker,” Pepper said.

“You know him?”

“Of course.” Pepper looked at me quizzically. “He grew up here. Don’t you remember him from grade school?”

“Grade school?” I dug around in my memory, which to tell the truth wasn’t that great anymore. I didn’t remember any extra-large second grader named Eddie. “I don’t remember.”

“Anyway, he moved away to Dixford Pass when were about ten, I think. He went on to work for the CIA—super secret spy stuff, from what I hear. Then something happened and he came back to Dixford Pass to be the sheriff.”

I pressed my lips together. “Well, I didn’t like him very much … he seemed like he wanted to shoot me.”

“Was that because you acted less than hospitable to him?”

“Maybe,” I laughed. I had been pretty hostile to him. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure that embosser is the murder weapon and I found something on it that might be a clue.”

“What?’

“One of the screws that attached the seal to the handle was sticking out. There was a thread of navy blue fabric stuck on it. Like a thread that would have ripped off a coat … or a cape.”

“And you think that could have come from the murderer.” Pepper said it as more of a statement than a question.

I nodded.
 

“So, now we need to find out who has a navy blue coat.”

“Yes, I’d especially like to know if Ophelia has one. And there’s something else…”
 

A movement at the shop door caught my eye and I glanced over to see something large blocking most of the light. I noticed a brown shirt and the ham salad spoiled in my stomach. “Please tell me that isn’t—”

The door opened and in stepped Eddie Striker.

***

 
Striker paused just inside the doorway, his light gray eyes scanning the shop before he noticed us on the couch. Did I see his lips twitch upwards in a smile? I stared at the stone-faced look he was wearing and decided that must have been my imagination. Probably he just had indigestion or some kind of a strange twitch.

“Sheriff Striker, what a pleasant surprise,” I said sarcastically. “What can I do for you?”

“Ms. Chance,” he said, then frowned at Pepper.

“Hi, Eddie,” Pepper cut in. “It’s Pepper St. Onge … from second grade.”

“I thought you looked familiar.” Striker shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “How are you?”

“Oh, great. Hey, would you like a sandwich?” Pepper gestured toward the tea tray and I almost laughed out loud picturing the tiny sandwich and teacup in Striker’s large hands.
 

He frowned down at the tray and I figured he was probably thinking the same thing I was. I couldn’t help but notice how his frown made the dimple on his cheek more prominent.
 

His face was slightly tanned, making his eyes look even lighter. His short-cropped dark hair had just a peppering of gray. I touched my own hair self-consciously, wondering why a little bit of gray always makes guys look more handsome, but just makes women look old. Not that I was noticing, but Sheriff Striker did look a lot more appealing now that he wasn’t pointing a gun at me.

Striker looked up at me and our eyes met, sending a jolt through my heart. I was probably just scared he was going to arrest me. I ripped my eyes away from his in time to notice the bemused look on Pepper’s face as she flicked her eyes from me to Striker and back again.

Striker cleared his throat. “Thanks, but I already ate lunch. I have some questions about what you found in the library the other day.”

“Okay, fire away.” I remained seated and rudely didn’t invite him to join us.

Striker glanced at Pepper uncertainly.

“You can ask me in front of Pepper. She knows all about me finding Lavinia.”

Pandora jumped down from her bed on the window and started sniffing around Striker’s feet. He looked down at her, but didn’t shoo her away.