Proof of Murder (Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery #4) - Lauren Elliott Page 0,34

pressed Catherine’s fingers around the book. “Take it. It would make me feel better.”

“Okay, I won’t argue. This one completes my collection, so it’ll soon be time to find another favorite author to obsess over.”

“When you’re ready let me know. I have lots of excellent recommendations.”

“You’ll be the first I ask since mystery appears to be your forte.” She chuckled and squeezed Addie’s hands. “Remember, I’m here for you whenever you need me. I’m fairly busy next week with all the events planned down at the harbor for the inaugural docking, but don’t forget I’m always just a phone call away.” She kissed her cheek.

“I know, and I appreciate that. You’re a good friend. Thank you.” Addie waved as Catherine made her way out, the tinkling sound of the bells announcing her departure.

It had been a long time since Addie felt mothered, and she smiled to herself as she inched her way toward the front of the store, uprighting books that had fallen over. Judging by all the empty shelf space, she’d definitely been wrong about the VIPs: they weren’t as discerning as she’d first thought. Some of them, at least, appeared to be just as happy with quality old and used as they were with rare and valuable.

When she rounded the end shelf by the door, she came to a stuttering stop. Philip Atkinson was sitting at the counter, bent over a book. Her cheeks puffed out as she released a deep breath. Keep it together, Addie. Right now he’s just a customer. “Philip, I see you found something you like.”

He raised his head. “Miss Greyborne.” His steel-gray eyes softened to dove gray, small crinkles forming at their corners. “How lovely to see you again so soon, but I must say, you are popping up everywhere today, aren’t you? Although . . . ” He closed his book, his eyes holding a gleam of deviltry. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were following me.”

“I own this bookstore. Therefore, I’m exactly where I should be. Shouldn’t you be in Dublin or Madrid or New York, or wherever?” Heat crept across her cheeks. “What brings you to Greyborne Harbor of all places? Or did you know I live here and came by just to torment me again?”

“You own this delightful little shop? That’s why you were at the auction.” A soft laugh escaped Philip’s lips. “I was afraid when I saw you that you had changed careers and were now my competition. Because I do remember how tough you were to deal with, and I didn’t relish the thought of going head-to-head with you again.” The corner of his lip turned up in a half smile. “And to answer your question, I had no idea where you were living. My appearance in your quaint little town is purely coincidental.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Addie made her way around the counter and stood beside Paige. She glanced down at the book Philip had been reading. It was her book-club edition of A Study in Scarlet. “I see you’re a fan?”

Philip glanced down at the book cover, then back up to Addie. “Why, yes I am. It is disappointing only to find this reproduction in your shop.” The muscles in his forehead tightened. “You don’t happen to know if there are any first editions of this around, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. Did he know about them or is he fishing?

“That’s too bad.” His fingers stroked the book cover. “What I wouldn’t give to have an original copy of this.”

“Is that what brought you here to the auction? Were you hoping to find one?”

“One could only hope.” He tossed some cash on the counter. “Fifty should cover this.” He tucked the book under his arm and headed out the door, the overhead bells expressing their delight at his leaving.

Chapter 12

Addie went through the motions of closing the store for the day. To say Philip had unnerved her would be an understatement. She’d even gone as far as double-checking the classic murder mystery books. It was exactly as she’d thought. There were still two other editions of A Study in Scarlet on the shelf. It was interesting to her that Philip had selected the book-club copy, a similar edition to the replacements she’d found at Hill Road House.

All the way home, she replayed their conversation in her head. What haunted her wasn’t so much what he said but how he said it. He seemed so certain and