Prose and Cons Page 8

  How strange indeed.

  The girl grabbed her boyfriend by the hand and dragged him over to the makeshift sales table that Grandma Daisy had set up near the front gate.

  “That’s interesting that there was a travel book shelved with the romances,” Trudy said.

  I jumped. I hadn’t even known she was there. I covered my surprise by straightening the books on the shelves. “Well, the books were moved out into the yard in such a rush, it’s not surprising a few titles might have been misplaced.”

  Trudy frowned as if she was suspicious of my story. My former first-grade teacher had a knack for sniffing out a liar. I had seen her make children confess to all sorts of crimes when I had been in her classroom. I squirmed under her scrutiny, but I didn’t crack. I came close, but I couldn’t reveal my family secret even to my first-grade teacher.

  Faulkner swooped over our heads and landed on the bookcase. “Nevermore.”

  Trudy nodded. “Well then, I had best get back to your grandmother and help her save what is left of the Poe-try Reading.”

  I gave a sigh of relief as she marched away. Although she held an old wooden cane in her hand, she carried it above the grass. She didn’t need it to keep her back straight and her stride strong. I hoped that when I was Trudy’s age, I had half her gumption and energy.

  Within a half hour, I had to admit that Nathan had been right to suggest the sidewalk sale. Business in Charming Books’ front yard was brisk. Part of that could be attributed to the extra traffic on River Road from the Food and Wine Festival, and maybe some of the shoppers were there to sneak a peek where there had been an accident. However, from the customers’ chatter it appeared most of the shoppers were blissfully unaware of Anastasia’s demise.

  A clean-shaven man stepped through the opened gate. He clearly wasn’t from the village. His clothes had an expensive look to them. The collar sticking out of his cashmere sweater appeared to have been starched to within an inch of its life. I suspected he was from the city, and not Buffalo, which was the closest large city to Cascade Springs. He was from the Big Apple. More than the clothes, it was his shoes that gave him away. They were just too shiny to be from around here. There were many wealthy vineyard owners in the village, like the Mortons, but no one in the village had shoes that shiny because everyone was so accustomed to walking.

  It wasn’t the likelihood that the man was from the city that piqued my interest in him. It wasn’t uncommon for visitors to come to Cascade Springs for a long weekend to visit the natural springs themselves or visit the wineries. No, what caught my attention was the way that he held the book he had plucked from the shelf in his hand. He was staring at the back as if engrossed in the book’s description, but the book was upside down.

  I sidled over to him. “Can I help you find something?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m just deciding whether or not I would like to read this book.”

  I took the book from his hand and turned it around the right way. “It might be easier to make the decision if you can read it.” I smiled. “Unless you have a knack for reading upside down. That would be a pretty good trick.”

  His face flushed as red as mine ever got. “Right.”

  I examined the book. It was a movie starlet’s biography. I wouldn’t have pegged him for a celebrity follower, but something I had learned from Charming Books is you can never know what a person would like to read just by appearances. The most docile grandmother might want the horror novels, and the goth teenager might be looking for cookbooks. Outward appearances were deceiving when it came to reader preferences.

  “If you like this biography, I can suggest a few others that you might also like. It might help you make your decision.”

  “No, I don’t need any help. Thank you.” He pursed his lips together in a tense line, and I knew it was time to back away. It was never a good idea to go in for the hard sale with a New Yorker.

  “Just let me know if you need anything, then.” I started in the direction of another customer, who looked completely bewildered by the adult coloring book collection.

  He stopped me. “Actually, you might be able to help me.”

  I turned back to face him.

  He put the book he held back on the shelf. “But not with a book.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Books are my specialty, but I can try.”

  “I’m looking for my friend E—I mean—Anastasia Faber. I heard that she might be here today. There was some type of event going on at this shop she was involved with.” He glanced around and seemed to note the police presence. “I thought it was a reading of some sort. I have to say the village seems to be very secure. I was surprised to see so many police cars on this road.”

  “The village takes the Food and Wine Festival seriously.” My pulse quickened. If he was looking for Anastasia and didn’t know why there were so many police cars parked near Charming Books, he must not know she was dead.

  “How do you know Anastasia?” I asked, stalling before telling him the news.

  He frowned. “I told you she’s a friend of mine. I’m visiting from out of town for your festival, and I wanted to drop in and see her while she was here. She was the one who told me about the reading. Where will it be? I must have written the time down wrong.”

  I shook my head. “You didn’t write it down wrong. The reading should be starting up again at any moment. We took an”—I searched for the word Grandma Daisy had used—“intermission.”

  “Is Anastasia inside, then?”

  He claimed to be Anastasia’s friend. Was he her boyfriend? I wondered. I supposed that it was possible. The man was at least ten years younger than Anastasia, but that was no reason to disregard the possibility. “Are you a close friend of Anastasia’s?” I asked, testing the waters and watching for his reaction.

  “Not a very close friend. I’m more of—a family friend.”

  He was lying. A family friend had to be a euphemism for something else, but I didn’t think there was a romantic attachment either. I couldn’t keep pumping him for information all the while knowing that Anastasia was dead. “I actually have some bad news. There’s been an accident.” I paused. “Anastasia died earlier this afternoon. It was completely unexpected. I know the police must be trying to notify her family. Maybe you can help them since you are a close friend of the family.”

  “She’s dead?” He staggered as if the news were some type of physical blow. “That’s not possible.”

  “Maybe you should talk to the police.” I stepped toward him with my hand outstretched to keep him from falling.

  He dodged out of the way. “No—no. I have to go.”

  Before I could stop him, he ran through the gate, his black scarf flying behind him like a cape. Part of me wanted to run after him, but I knew I would never find him as he melted into the crowded street. I needed to tell Chief Rainwater about my encounter. I was kicking myself that I hadn’t asked the man his name.

  Grandma Daisy waved me over to the cash register, where she was ringing up another sale.

  I scanned the yard for Rainwater or another of his officers I could tell about Anastasia’s friend, but the only officer I saw was Wheaton standing on Charming Books’ wide front porch with his arms folded across his chest genie-style, watching the activity in the front yard. I most certainly didn’t want to talk to him. He had thought Grandma Daisy committed murder that summer. Even when it was obvious Grandma Daisy had nothing to do with Benedict’s murder, Wheaton was determined to prove she did it because he disliked me so much. The feeling was mutual.

  “Violet, Richard and Trudy have everything together to resume the Poe-try Reading.” She pointed to the far side of the yard where the podium and microphone now stood in the corner. “We were wondering if you could draw the crowd’s attention.”

  I grimaced. As a college professor, I wasn’t afraid of speaking in public, b
ut I didn’t know why Richard couldn’t grab the crowd’s attention.

  “All right,” I agreed. Before I crossed the yard, I turned back to my grandmother. “Grandma Daisy, did Anastasia have any family? I can’t remember her speaking of anyone. You’ve known her much longer than I have.”

  Trudy overheard my question. She was still wearing her pin-striped dress, which was perfectly suited for her. It was like she stepped out of a garden party on Martha’s Vineyard over a century ago. The only thing that ruined the image was the tourists milling about in jeans and sweaters. “She has a brother. He doesn’t live in the village any longer, but I imagine her estate would go to him unless she wrote a will cutting him out of it.”

  “Would she do that?” I asked.

  Trudy sniffed. “If he upset her for some reason. I wouldn’t put it past Anastasia to cut family out of her life and her will.”

  “Do you know him?”

  She nodded. “I knew him. I had both he and Anastasia in school. She was two years ahead of her brother. Coleridge lit out of the village almost as fast as you after he graduated high school.”

  I grimaced. “You had Anastasia in school?”

  “Of course, I did. I had everyone in my class if they grew up in the village while I was in the classroom. I taught the first graders for over forty years. They finally had to force me to retire to get me to leave the students. Being a teacher is what I excelled in.”

  “But now in retirement you have time to fulfill your lifelong dream of being a published author,” Grandma Daisy said. “You wouldn’t have time for that if you were still teaching.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. Everything seems to work out just as it should.” Trudy stamped the end of her cane in the grass as if for emphasis before joining Richard near the microphone.

  “Where’s Sadie?” I’d just realized I hadn’t seen her since I changed out of my dress and that had been several hours ago.

  “She asked if it was all right if she went back to Midcentury Vintage for the rest of the day,” my grandmother said as she adjusted the bookmark display on her makeshift sales table. “I think what happened to Anastasia really shook her. I told her that Trudy and Richard would have no trouble keeping the reading going. You know, those two love the spotlight.”

  I glanced across the street at the yellow cottage that was Midcentury Vintage. Tourists went in and out of the shop, and it seemed to me that the ones leaving were carrying shopping bags. It would make sense if Sadie wanted to focus on her own business during such an important weekend for commerce in the village, but her absence made me edgy. I still couldn’t get out of my head how upset she’d been last night after being alone with Anastasia in Charming Books’ kitchen.

  Grandma Daisy shooed me over to the side of the yard where the microphone was. Behind the mic, I cleared my throat. “Thank you all for coming out here today. After a break, we are about to resume our Poe-try Reading, where we share with you the works of the literary genius Edgar Allan Poe. Poe has been credited with being the first man to pen a true detective story as well as being best known now for his terrifying work. . . .” I trailed off as Chief Rainwater followed by Wheaton and Clipton marched down the front steps of Charming Books and walked through the front gate and into the street.

  I turned to Richard, completely forgetting what I had to say about Poe. “Dr. Bunting will be able to share much more about Poe’s life and work than I ever possibly could.” I stepped away from the mic. “Richard?”

  He gave me a curious look, but I ran after the officers before he could protest. Just as Rainwater and his officers hit the sidewalk on the other side of the street, I dashed across the road, nearly getting run over by a horse and carriage in the process. Sadie was right. Those carriage drivers need to pay more attention to pedestrians.

  The three officers had just reached the gate around Midcentury Vintage’s tiny yard when I caught up with them. “David!”

  Chief Rainwater turned around to face me, and I gasped for breath. I hadn’t run very far, but my heightened anxiety made it hard to breathe. “Where are you going?”

  The corner of Officer Wheaton’s lip turned up in a sneer. “We don’t have to tell you anything.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” I snapped.

  Officer Clipton started to open her mouth, but then she caught the chief’s eye. She closed it tight.

  “We need to talk to Sadie,” Rainwater said. By his tone I knew it wasn’t a casual call. “Now, go back to Charming Books.” He turned and he and the two officers headed for Sadie’s store.

  Go back to Charming Books? Like that was going to happen.

  ELEVEN

  Completely ignoring his direct order, I followed them through the gate. “Sadie? Why do you need to talk to Sadie? You already took her statement. She didn’t see anything or speak to Anastasia before she fell down the stairs.” I jumped in between Rainwater and Midcentury Vintage’s front door.

  The police chief sighed. “It’s part of the investigation. Now, step aside, Violet. Please.”

  He sounded so tired by the task ahead of him that I did what I was asked, but I still had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Grandma Daisy joined me in Sadie’s front yard, holding a hand over her heart like she was caught in the middle of giving the Pledge of Allegiance. “What’s going on? What is David doing marching toward Midcentury Vintage like he’s leading Pickett’s Charge?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He said they have to talk to Sadie. It has to be related to Anastasia’s death.”

  “What are you doing standing here, then?” Grandma Daisy gave me a little shove. “Go find out what’s going on and see if you can help her.”

  Grandma Daisy was right. I half ran, half stumbled across the yard and through the open door into Midcentury Vintage.

  Sadie stood by the sales counter. Her blue eyes were the size of dinner plates as she stared at Rainwater and his officers. “B-but I don’t know anything about what happened to Anastasia. I told you that I was outside when she fell down the stairs. I hadn’t seen her since the night before when we were all together at the Red Inkers meeting.”

  “At Charming Books when you gave her the dress she was to wear at the Poe-try Reading,” Rainwater said as if he was trying to clarify something.

  The hairs stood up on the back of my neck.

  “Y-yes,” Sadie stammered. “You were all there. All the Red Inkers were there.”

  “Tell me about the dress,” he said.

  “Are you trying to tell me the dress is the reason she is dead? Did she trip over the hem and fall down the stairs? Anastasia was a tall woman. The hem should not have even touched the floor, but I can understand how her heel could have gotten caught if she wasn’t careful.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “How terrible! I feel responsible if that’s what has happened.”

  Rainwater held up his hand. “No, she didn’t trip on the hem of her dress. That is not what caused her to fall.”

  “Then, I don’t understand. Why would you ask me about the dress if it’s not related to how she died? Was the dress damaged somehow when she fell? Because, please know, I don’t care. I don’t want it back, if that’s what you think. I don’t want it back after what happened. It’s just too morbid. I could never sell it.”

  “The dress Anastasia was wearing when she died, was it a new acquisition for your shop?” Rainwater asked in a calm and steady voice.

  Sadie shook her head. “No, I have had that dress well over a year. When I heard about the Poe-try Reading, I knew it would be perfect for the event. It does have a very goth look to it and it was approximately Anastasia’s size. I had to do some alterations, but they were very minor.”

  Rainwater’s amber gaze narrowed. “What alterations did you make?”

  “I let out the middle a little bit, not much, just enough so that she could br
eathe comfortably while wearing it, and the dress was short, so I let out the hem a little. There wasn’t enough fabric to make it the perfect length considering how tall she was.”

  “Was Anastasia present when you made the alterations?” the police chief asked.

  She shook her head. “I had her measurements from some tailoring I’d done for her a little while back.”

  “Where did you keep the dress?” he asked.

  “Why, here, in the shop. That’s where I keep all my clothes to sell. If someone came in asking to buy that dress, I would have sold it and found something else for Anastasia to wear. I can’t take a chance on missing a sale.”

  “You never took it anywhere? A customer never borrowed it for a special event?” He asked these questions as if he wanted her to tell him that someone had borrowed the dress.

  “Did someone tamper with the dress?” I asked, speaking for the first time since I had stepped into Midcentury Vintage. “Is that what you’re implying?”

  Rainwater’s eyes slid in my direction, but he didn’t seem the least bit surprised I was standing in the doorway.

  “Is Violet right?” Sadie’s lips trembled.

  He pursed his lips. “It does look like someone did something to Anastasia’s dress.”

  “I told you I made some alterations, but I can hardly believe that the dress itself was related to what happened to Anastasia.” Sadie looked as if she was about to cry.

  “I’m afraid that it might,” Rainwater said. “Would it be all right if we searched your shop?”

  “Don’t you need a warrant for that?” I asked.

  “A—a warrant,” Sadie stammered.

  “Not if Sadie says that it’s okay.” He didn’t look at me as he answered the question.

  “Sadie,” I began. “I think—”

  “I have nothing to hide.” She cut me off. “Go ahead. Look.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “But I thought you were my friend, David.”

  The police chief looked pained, and for the first time since he walked into Sadie’s shop, I felt sympathy for him. Just a little, but it was there.