Proof of Murder (Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery #4) - Lauren Elliott Page 0,27

his—her eyes pleading with him to stop this insanity. “Marc, say something. You can’t really believe that I had anything to do with any of this.”

Her question was met by his stone-faced silence.

“Marc, please! Tell her.”

“I believe,” Ryley said, her tone as cold and distant as the emptiness in her eyes, “that the cup we took in for evidence will test positive for sleeping drugs or . . . maybe even poison?” Her brow rose with a questioning tic.

Addie sagged back into the chair. None of what she was hearing could possibly be real. She leaned forward, her hands between her knees. This couldn’t really be happening. It was all so surreal. The ache in her chest landed in the pit of her stomach like a rock.

“Do you have an alibi for last night, Addie?” Marc’s voice rumbled in her ears.

She locked eyes with him. “Are you actually charging me?”

“Not at this time, Miss Greyborne.” Ryley’s smug face swam before Addie. “However, I am fairly certain that after Dr. Emerson completes an autopsy, we’ll find the victim was indeed murdered, and the analysis of the contents of the teacup will prove it. You are the person who had the means and motive to pull off such a feat.”

“Marc, this is me.” Addie jumped to her feet. “You know me. I couldn’t have—no, wouldn’t have killed Charlotte for some books. No matter what she says.” She pinned him with a glare. “Now, if you’ll excuse me as my head explodes with your sudden U-turn. Because it’s getting hard to keep up. First, you said there was no evidence of a murder, and the two weren’t connected, and now you’re accusing me of poisoning Charlotte?” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. Her gaze shooting from Ryley’s to Marc’s. “Explain that sudden turnaround, Officers.”

“We’re not saying you did at this point. Only that I have to follow the evidence, and right now, as Detective Brookes has made apparent to me in her investigation so far, all the evidence about this particular set of missing books points directly to you. The final determination of the cause of death will decide if other charges might be pending.”

Addie’s cheeks burned as if Marc’s words had slapped her. “I see. Well then, Officers, if I’m not being charged right now, I assume I’m free to leave.”

At Marc’s head nod, Addie bolted past them and ducked under the crime-scene tape. Serena’s words of warning, “Don’t go to Hill Road House,” rang clearly through her mind as she made a dash for the front door. This house had become Addie’s own personal horror story, and it was smothering her right now. She needed air. When she passed the study on her way to the front door, she heard men’s voices. Jerry’s and Garrett’s.

She skidded to a stop. “Garrett, have you seen Kalea today?”

“No, I thought she was meeting you this morning.”

“She was supposed to. Do you know if she’s still at the Grey Gull?”

Garrett shook his head. “We had dinner last night, but then she got a call and said she had to take care of something. That was the last time I saw her.”

“Is everything okay?” Jerry closed his notepad.

“Yeah, I just have to find my cousin. Knowing her, she’s still sleeping, though. Thanks, Garrett.”

It was past noon the last time Addie had checked. Surely she still wouldn’t be sleeping, would she? Addie gave herself a mental shake. None of what just happened made sense. Fresh air. She needed fresh air. She flung the door open to Blake announcing the cancellation of today’s auction to a large gathering of brokers on the lawn below him. His words were met with whispers and jeers. Even his explanation that, by all indications, the public auction would proceed tomorrow as scheduled didn’t appear to silence their annoyance. Addie slipped past him and sidestepped her way past the bidders, searching faces for Kalea. When Addie made her way through the group with no sign of her cousin, panic snaked up her spine. Something had to be wrong. Even the flake she knew ten years ago wouldn’t have disappeared like this. A cold hand clasped her forearm.

“Leaving so soon, Miss Greyborne?”

Addie spun at the Irish lilt behind her. “Philip Atkinson.”

“Is everything okay?” An amused gleam twinkled in his eyes.

She yanked her arm free and darted past him. Simon. She needed Simon. He was always there to pick her up when she fell, and right now she was spiraling down a rabbit