Proof of Murder (Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery #4) - Lauren Elliott Page 0,25
mouth. “I’ll call you later.” He tilted his head. “You all right?”
She wanted nothing more than to throw herself in his arms. But she had her pride, and the studied attention of Marc, and the added addition of Special Agent Brookes.
“Just peachy.”
“You were saying?” Marc brought his attention back to her after Simon left. “Did you have anything else to add to what you’ve already told Jerry or Agent Brookes?”
“It’s just that I couldn’t help but overhear”—she ignored Marc’s snort—“that you don’t feel that it’s important to keep the house locked down as a crime scene, and I just wanted to point out—”
“You wanted to point out what?”
“Only that even though it appears Charlotte’s death might have been natural, I can’t help but think that her death coincides with the disappearance of some very valuable books . . . and I think the two are related.”
Marc rubbed his jaw, his eyes fixed on Addie’s. “That may well be, Miss Greyborne, but you’re forgetting the number-one rule of conducting a police investigation: Follow the evidence. And all the evidence points to a poor woman who had the misfortune of having a heart attack or a stroke or something else naturally occurring and then dying.”
“But—”
“So, at this time, I”—he glanced at Ryley—“we can only investigate the missing books and the other items Mr. Edwards has reported stolen from the property. There is no evidence suggesting a murder was committed, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“What if some proof turned up proving otherwise?”
“If that happens, then I would be bound to follow that new evidence, but right now, based on preliminary findings, it was an unfortunate death and a purely coincidental event.”
“Then don’t you think that until proved otherwise the auction should be canceled? Is it really a good idea to allow all those people to traipse through the house until you do find the evidence to prove they are connected?”
“Are you questioning my authority in this matter, Miss Greyborne?” Addie shook her head. “Good, because I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you, should I? What I’m saying is that unless my officers find any evidence of forced entry into the house or come across the missing items in question while they’re completing their search, there is no reason the auction cannot proceed tomorrow.”
“Does that mean you’re convinced the thief is feeling pretty smug about getting away with it for so long that he or she will return to the scene of the crime by attending the auction? Then you’ll be around to catch him or her red-handed?” Addie’s smile wilted at the expression on Marc’s and Agent Brookes’s faces.
Brookes’s eyes narrowed in on Addie’s. “Tell us why you’re convinced that Charlotte McAdams’s death is related to a set of valuable first-edition Arthur Conan Doyle books in the first place.”
Addie’s gaze went from pinning Brookes with a glare to an indignant wide-eyed stare at Marc. “I don’t mean to be flippant, but since she’s on leave, can she officially be asking me questions?” Marc looked away and nodded.
Brookes didn’t flinch except for a short hitch to her breathing. “Yes, even though I am not officially investigating this incident, an FBI agent is really never considered to be off-duty. However, as I explained earlier, I am not acting in the capacity of a federal agent. I’m here as a friend who is familiar with police procedure. This is a matter for local law enforcement—unless, of course, something came to light that would make it fall under federal jurisdiction.”
“Satisfied, Addie?” Marc fixed a steely, slightly dazed gaze on her. Addie understood. She had shocked herself, too, with her outburst. “Now answer the question. Why are you so convinced that McAdams’s death is linked to those books?”
“Because the books left as replacements would have to have been previously purchased. They aren’t something that would be found in this collection.” She waved her hand around the library. “Whoever exchanged them planned it ahead of time, perhaps in the hope that it would take longer than the next day for the fake books to be discovered.”
“And,” Brookes said as she studied Addie’s face, “what makes you think that this person who exchanged the books wasn’t Charlotte herself?”
“Because I had only made her aware of the first editions’ existence yesterday. There wouldn’t have been time for her to go out and buy the replicas. The closest place where she could have found any would have been Boston.”
“And you’re certain that the actual first editions and not these reproductions were