Publishable By Death, Andi Cumbo-Floyd [interesting books to read TXT] 📗

When I got back to the shop that afternoon, the place was full of people quietly reading or sipping coffee. Mart gave me a wave from the register as I came in and gestured toward the fiction section, where Sheriff Mason was reading the back cover of an Inspector Gamache mystery. “Didn’t take you for a police procedural kind of guy, Sheriff?”

“You know, I’m probably not. Somehow, reading about a murder in a small town isn’t really appealing just now.” He carefully slid the book back into its spot and aligned the spine with the rest of the shelf. “Maybe when I retire though.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d worked in a bookstore before.” I gestured toward the tidy shelf.

“Right about now, I’d take the quiet of books,” he looked toward the storeroom door, “although it hasn’t exactly been the easiest of openings for you, huh?”

I shrugged. “Not really, I guess, but even when I think I just want to recommend books and spend time reading, I find that I get into something else anyway. This time that something else just found me.” I puffed out my cheeks and blew a long stream of air. “Did you need something?”

“Just wanted to give you a quick update. But before I tell you what I know, I need you to understand something. I’m only telling you all this so that you don’t try to snoop it out yourself. I’m hoping that if I satisfy your curiosity, you’ll take a step back and just let us do our jobs.” He raised his eyebrows and looked at me.

I gave him a small nod.

“Okay then. We did find Stevensmith’s hair on the handle of the umbrella, so it looks like it was the murder weapon.”

I shuddered. I had held that handle.

“Any fingerprints?”

He scrutinized my face. “No. Nothing usable. And nothing particularly unique about the sage ash either.”

My shoulders dropped. “We’re no further along than we were.”

“The police are no further along than we were, Harvey. I know you want to help, but you are not a part of this investigation.” His voice was kind but forceful, and I felt color run up my neck.

“I’m sorry.” I let out a long sigh. “I feel kind of helpless, though. These people died at my shop, and I feel responsible somehow, like I need to do right by them.” I slid my hands through my hair. “Plus, I’m just a really curious person. My mom used to say I was a Nosey Nellie, like that girl on Little House on the Prairie.”

The sheriff put a hand softly on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t say you’re anything like snooty Nellie Oleson. And curiosity is a good thing. But Harvey, in this case, you could be putting yourself in real danger.”

I knew that all too well, but apparently I didn’t seem to care. I did care, however, that I not make things harder for the sheriff. “I hear you. I’ll stay out of things and just share information that might come to me.” He gave me a stern look. “You have my word that I won’t go looking.”

He gave my shoulder a squeeze and turned toward the door. “Thanks, Harvey. Glad you’re here.”

I waved as he headed out to his patrol car. I was glad I was part of this town, too, but I’d be even happier when they caught the murderer.

Even though Mart was there to walk home with me, Daniel and Taco still showed up right on time to join the entourage back to the house. Daniel always smelled just a little bit like motor oil and cedar, and tonight, the odor was even stronger. Leave it to Mart to leave no sensory experience unnoted. “Do a little slip-sliding in an oil slick, my friend?” she asked as she slipped her arm playfully into his.

He shrugged, but I saw pink tinge his ears. “I lost my grip on an oil pan under a Dodge 1500 and got soaked. Guess my shower with Lava soap didn’t cut it, huh?”

“I like it,” I said quietly as I slipped my hand into his. I saw the color in his ears deepen.

Mart chattered away while we walked, and I loved it. She made sense of the world by talking, so I’d long ago learned she didn’t need – and sometimes didn’t even want – my responses. She was quite content to fritter on while Daniel and I walked quietly and enjoyed the cool evening.

At the door, Mart slipped inside with Mayhem, giving me a wink as she went. Daniel and I stood on the small front stoop under the old-fashioned barn light and just looked at each other. “I could get used to this,” he said.

“Me, too.” Then, he leaned down and kissed me softly.

I took a step back to head toward the house and fell as Taco’s long sausage of a body took me out at the knees. I landed with a thud and just enough sense to catch my head before it smacked the concrete.

Daniel knelt down quickly with a look of great concern on his face. My tailbone definitely hurt, and I suspected I’d have quite the neck ache in the morning. But I started to snicker and then laugh until I was crying and rocking back and forth as I tried to catch my breath.

Eventually Daniel sat down next to me and waited for me to settle. When I could talk again, I said, “You better get used to that, too. I’m not the world’s most coordinated person.”

“Me neither. Like my new cologne, Eau de Pennzoil?” Then, he laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

10

I was right. My neck was so stiff from my fall that when I woke up, I could only tilt my head but not turn it. I’d been here before. Too many hours reading books in awkward positions had led me to stiff necks many times. I recalled a tip that author Laraine Herring had shared at a book reading for her novel Ghost Swamp Blues. She said that for a stiffness, you needed to move that body part a hundred times in every direction. It had worked for me before, and I sure hoped it would work again. I had a lot to do and no time to have to rotate my entire body every time I had to make a turn.

I started by doing simple head turns while I was in the shower. The hot water helped, and by the time I’d turned a hundred times in each direction, I was beginning to feel the muscles give. Then, while I made Eggo waffles – the whole wheat ones because I wasn’t entirely a lost cause when it came to my health – I tried to