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

By the time we opened the next day, we’d arranged to have Marcus move into the room above Daniel’s garage. It had, apparently, been a studio apartment at one time, so it just needed some appliances, a little repair to the floors and walls, and a good cleaning to be a perfect apartment for a twenty-year-old man. It took some convincing to get Marcus to agree to take the apartment rent free for the first month, but when Daniel pointed out that his rent would be sweat equity in fixing the place up, Marcus finally said yes.

He even started talking about getting a cat since he’d been so enthralled with Aslan at our place the night before. She had also been quite taken with him and had given up her spot at my feet to set up shop on the guest room bed with him. In the morning, when I peeked in, she had wiggled her way up to the pillow and was draped across Marcus’s forehead. If his snore was any indication, he didn’t mind at all.

But we didn’t have time this weekend to move Marcus in . . . the aftereffects of Michiko Kakutani’s tweet combined with the response to Galen Gilbert’s Insta post were still sending book buyers from all over Maryland, Virginia, and Delaware. And the murder tourists – who knew there was such a thing? – were still coming, too. Plus, now, we added the people who had come to town for the street fair . . . and we were slammed. Lines at the register, five pots of coffee by eleven a.m. Rocky had to ask her mother Phoebe to come help, we were so busy.

It was amazing.

Marcus took to the register like a champ and was chatting with customers all the while he scanned books. If I hadn’t known better, I’d think he’d been doing this for years. Mart was on hand to help with bagging and to take over if he needed to walk a customer to a particular book recommendation. I’m pretty sure he hand-sold more than a few dozen books that day.

I had my handy people counter out again, and by noon, we’d had 743 people in the store. Every seat was taken at almost every minute, and Rocky and Phoebe were doing a brisk business of customers both in the café and with take-out cups. I was very glad Phoebe had come in and also that I’d asked Woody if he could be on call to help out as needed. Turns out our need involved more paper cups, so he contacted the Baptist church down the street and asked if we could buy theirs. The pastor donated them, said she was happy to help support the local bookstore and would replace the church’s supply with her own money. I loved this town more and more.

Daniel had a full slate of customers of his own that day, but he did drop by just after lunch to marvel. “Whew! Look at this place.”

I took the minute to sit down in the chair I’d tucked in the storeroom first thing that morning just so that all of us could get a break for a few minutes at a time. I still didn’t love this room, but it was the only private space in the shop, and with this many customers, we needed a little private space. “I know! It’s amazing, but holy cow do my feet hurt.”

I was wearing my trusty Danskos, which my forty-four-year-old feet appreciated, but even their mighty arches weren’t enough to keep the ache away altogether. I’d been walking customers to and fro all morning and bringing out new titles or replacement copies in every spare minute. I was glad I’d ordered a lot of books for the week and super grateful to have the cash to do that.

Daniel sat down on a stack of boxes next to me. “I think we can safely say that your store is officially viable.”

“You think?” I laughed, but inside, I was profoundly grateful. The kindness of strangers . . . it was an expression I’d heard a lot, but now I was on the receiving end of it. I felt humbled and even more determined than ever to make this shop do its good work.

I could hear the sound of conversation through the door. “Thanks for stopping by.” I gestured toward the door. “I probably need to get out there.”

“Oh right. Definitely. But before you go, I almost forgot the second reason I stopped by.”

I turned to look at him. “Okay, but first, what’s the first reason?”

He put his hand on my cheek. “I think you know that one. But the second one. Max Davis came by. He wanted my opinion on a sound he was hearing in his car, at least that’s what he said, but I think he was fishing for information.”

“Information about what?”

“Well, that’s the thing. He kept talking around something, at least I think so. Said something about us being in the restaurant last night, that maybe I needed to think more about myself and less about helping ‘our new neighbor.’”

Our meal the night before had been perfect – crab cakes with remoulade sauce for the guys. A really amazing quiche for me. I think Max had been mortified at my poor taste when I ordered the quiche for dinner. He even came out to suggest the chicken fricassee instead, but I held firm – I wanted cheese and eggs – and he’d relented. It was so good.

“Clearly, he knows I’m a bad influence,” I said, trying to make light of the insult.

Daniel laughed, but the chuckle didn’t reach his eyes. “He was being casual, Harvey, but I don’t think he was kidding. I think he was really trying to warn me off of you.”

I felt tears clawing their way up my throat, but I couldn’t let Daniel know how much that bothered me . . . or how much I was afraid Daniel would listen. “Is it working?” My laugh came out crackly.

“Not for a second.” He leaned down and gave me a gentle kiss. Then he pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “He got me worried, though. I know he and Stevensmith had a falling out . . . do you think he could be the murderer?”

The thought had crossed my mind. Between the very palpable resentment he had about the reporter’s reviews and the potential that he might have been faking his paranoia about being a victim at the street fair, I thought it quite possible that he might be our guy. But I still had a question. “Why would he warn you off me, though? What’s the value in that?”

Daniel gave me a very serious look and then widened his eyes as if he couldn’t believe I wasn’t getting it, but I wasn’t getting it. “Harvey, he’s trying to get me out of the way so he can get to you.”

I shook my head. “Nah, that’s ridiculous. Max is also ridiculous, but he’s not dangerous . . . and he’s definitely not this conniving.”

“You sure about that?” Daniel wasn’t convinced, and as confident as I was trying to sound, I wasn’t completely convinced either. “At least, make sure you’re not alone okay? Keep Mart or Rocky or me nearby.”

I wanted to protest,