The Lush Life (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 8) (8 page)

Chapter 21

One For The Books

When Martha, Hazel, and Betty arrived, I was already methodically searching the cabinets in the family room.

Martha looked all around. “What is going on here?”

“Why did you take all those books out?” Betty asked.

Hazel glanced at the open cabinets. “What happened?”

I explained what occurred outside, my near miss with that bullet, barely controlling my anger and frustration at what some nut was now putting me through.

“Oh, my!” Hazel exclaimed, clutching her chest.

“You could have been killed!” said Betty, clearly upset.

“Let’s not fall apart here, you two,” said Martha. “We have to remain calm in a time of crisis. Sam is alive and well, and slightly peeved as you can plainly see.”

Martha then turned to me, worry etching her eyes that I’d catch, not about to show it in front of Hazel and Betty. “You’re pushing your luck, young lady. We’ll talk about calling in the cops, but first let me read that text you got.”

I’d give them my take on this then Alicia’s odd reaction.

I gently tossed over my phone to her.

“What’s this all supposed to mean?” Martha asked after reading it with Betty and Hazel leaning over her shoulder.

“Apparently, they are looking for a very valuable book that’s located somewhere in this house.”

“Why divulge what they’re looking for?” asked Hazel.

“I know, that’s exactly what I asked at first,” I said.

“What do you mean, at first?” Betty asked.

“They know it’s here, but not exactly where,” I responded.

Martha got it. “And hope you’ll find it first, saving them the risk of being exposed to the alarms and cameras located in this house that would alert us and the police.”

I nodded. “Then try to steal it from us once we find it. I know this sounds strange, but I don’t think they know the title either, just that it’s a very valuable one.”

They stood there silently digesting my last comment.

“Sounds farfetched, doesn’t it?” I asked.

“I recall,” said Martha, “someone saying something very similar to me the other day regarding my take on this.”

I rested my hand lightly on her arm. “My apologies.”

“I don’t know...” said a doubtful Betty.

“What?” I asked her.

“Look for a valuable book in
this
big house?”

Martha grabbed her cell and began typing.

Hazel glanced at the cabinets then me. “Find anything?”

“More old books in boxes, but I’m not sure how rare.”

Martha read aloud from her phone. “‘A tome: A book, volume, digest, manuscript.’ No doubt of their intentions.”

I glanced at the multitude of books staring back at us from all the bookcases in the family room then remembered the large great room, the living room... I never really paid much attention to how many books the
Worths
’ had. I was more focused on all their valuable paintings.

Then I smiled confidently. “It’ll be a daunting task, but not one we can’t handle, right? I know we can do this,” I said firmly.

“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,” said Betty.

“Sure is one for the books,” quipped Martha, frowning.

For once their usual clichés were very apropos.

Chapter 22

Librarian & Libation

I took a break from playing librarian and uncorked some wine, inviting the others to join me. We kicked up our feet to discuss the case and hash out how to handle this. I kept my voice low. Scarlett was just a door and stairwell away. This was serious business.

“Still no word from Clay,” I said, “but I received a call earlier from Alicia. She stated, although many of her books were collectible, she couldn’t think of one in particular that might be worth taking a shot over. She asked that we keep this quiet and don’t call in the police yet unless something worse happens. It could have been just a hunter’s wild shot gone astray out in the woods and nothing more. After all, it’s fall and this is a rural area. She said it does happen.”

Betty set down her wineglass. “Like we’d believe that.”

“She claimed there was nothing unusual about her book collection and maybe I was over-reading this whole thing. Maybe it was a misdirected text and stray bullet. She also mentioned that one of her neighbors in the woods at the back of her property is a retired sharpshooter for the secret service and each hunting season thins out the deer herd on all the area properties and then donates all the deer meat to a food bank kitchen. But he uses a bow, not a gun.”

“Maybe he ran out of arrows,” cracked Martha.

“So, Alicia claims it was some overenthusiastic nut, hunting deer and that was a stray bullet whizzing by you,” said Betty, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

“You don’t sound convinced that it might have been an accident either,” said Hazel.

“Since when do hunters use silencers?” I countered sarcastically.

“Point well-taken,” said Martha.

“Then Alicia sent me this text after we hung up. Look.”

When you reed the manuscript,

Make sure you have the right one, the other is lethal.

I trust you’ll get it write and no the difference in thyme.

“I wasn’t sure why she misspelled it until I reassessed our conversation. Alicia’s voice had an edge, a forced calm, dismissing my concerns, even after I brought up those two bogus emails. She spoke cryptically. I’m now convinced she purposely misspelled it, sensing the phones might be compromised and our computers, but in due time I’d figure her text out. Trouble is, I can’t decipher it.”

“Do you think you can find this book?” Hazel asked.

“What about getting the police involved?” Betty added.

“It had to be a warning shot. If they wanted to shoot me they could’ve accomplished that easily out front when I was walking in the wide-open field. After giving it some thought, I think this was to get my attention. Trust me, they did. Plus for some reason Alicia kept stressing not to call the police, but if it goes further than that warning shot, I...”

Just then, Mona and Teddy barged in.

“What’s so important?” she asked breathlessly. She saw open cabinets, several books scattered about. “Tell me...”

I gave her a warning look and a slight shake of the head.

The ever-astute Mona quickly turned to Teddy.

“Lunch was a total disaster. I’ve heard enough moaning! Go up and take your pain pills before looking in any more mirrors, and then lie down for an hour,” she instructed.

Because of all the bruising and swelling on Teddy face, I think it was too much effort to argue, so he nodded and made his exit, but not before we heard a muffled, “
Bithhh
!”

“Well,” said Betty, smoothing her skirt. Such manners!”

“A
true
gentleman,” scoffed Hazel, “wouldn’t speak that way to a room full of ladies.”

“Who said we were all ladies,” said Martha chuckling.

Offering a glass of wine to Mona, I invited her to sit down. Then I painstakingly recapped what had transpired, including the texts I’d received while she was babysitting Teddy in New Hope.

When I finished, she frowned. “I should’ve been here.”

“Don’t feel guilty. You couldn’t have done much. They were probably long gone by the time I got up and ran in.”

“We’re not informing Miss Scarlett either,” Hazel said.

I just checked on her,” Martha said, rejoining us. “She’s out cold for now. We can speak freely.”

“Must have hit the Southern Comfort again,” Betty said.

“We don’t want Teddy, Scarlett or Lucas to find out about this,” I said. “For the moment they’re all suspect.”

Hazel chuckled. “All we need is for Rhett to show up.”

Just then the doorbell buzzed. Tension traveled the room as each of us imagined who it could possibly be.

No one said zip.

There was no way.

I mean, what were the odds, right?

Chapter 23

And Then There Was...

I think the thought of spending backbreaking time going through more of those books and the intrigue of just who might be at the door swept all of us as one to walk into the foyer to find out who was now buzzing insistently.

“What’s so important? Are they nuts?” said Martha.

I glanced at the ladies before opening the door. They were all still holding their wineglasses, ready and waiting.

I unlocked the door, swung it open, and gaped.

“...Tony?

He winked and said, “Miss me?”

I didn’t have to glance backward when I heard intakes of breath behind me. They were just as shocked as I was.

“What the...”

I stood there staring at tall, dark, and handsome Tony, who had crossed my path before on my last mystery. As usual, he was dressed ‘to the nines,’ as Martha would say: flashy designer suit, polished shoes, and Louis
Vuitton
tie, minus any ominous red stains.

If I wasn’t stuck on Clay, I’d consider this bad boy.

“Aren’t you going to at least invite me in?” he asked, interrupting my quickly-suppressed thoughts as I flushed.

My eyes hastily searched for bulges under his jacket
.
“Well...” I said, hesitating.

“I’m not carrying.” He unbuttoned and opened his jacket to prove it. Nothing but muscled male under a tailored shirt.

At the end of our last case, Tony had been found innocent and was released on a technicality, and vanished after our final encounter. So, why this public visit all of a sudden? I back-stepped even though I had reinforcements:
witnesses
standing right behind me.

“...I guess,” I said, letting him enter.

Although I initially misjudged Tony to be slow on the uptake, I revised my opinion once he demonstrated he was savvier than I expected. So, why show up, announcing his presence, if he was involved in stealing a rare book? Could it be Tony knew nothing about the book in question? I tried not to laugh at that impossibility. He smelled money.

Tony not be on the hunt? This tom-cat always strayed.

He shut the door and checked me out from head to toe. His x-ray eyes were making me uneasy. Tony had a way of staring at you, like he was trying to read your thoughts. I hoped he couldn’t read mine.

They were not PG rated. He caused me a lot of stress last time he confronted me. Granted, he had valid reasons, but I just didn’t trust the guy. Forget his mother. She was just as unpredictable and treacherous as he was.

My definition of treacherous: double-dealing and highly dangerous. Yup, they both qualified.

But you know, I considered him a challenge, bearing in mind Tony was so good looking. Besides, where was Clay in all this? I had called, texted and emailed until my fingers felt raw. If Clay chose to miss out on this caper, I guess I would have to handle Tony all by myself. I could do that...

After all, any crime spillover should go to me, right?