Proof of Murder (Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery #4) - Lauren Elliott Page 0,4
Addie studied the hawkish woman, who peered back at her just as intently—except in the woman’s case, she appeared to be ready to swoop in on her prey. This, and something in her mannerism struck a familiar chord with Addie. She flipped through her mental files but came up empty. Nothing in her recent memories could help her place this woman.
“Addie, I can’t believe it!” A tall, middle-aged man with hair graying at the temples swept past the bird creature in the doorway. “I had no idea you were in Greyborne Harbor,” he said as he rushed over to plant a light kiss on her cheek. “As soon as I saw your name on the registration sheet, I had to come and find you.”
“Blake, it’s great to see you.” Still struggling to place the woman hovering in the door, Addie took one more glance at her before refocusing her attention on her old family friend. “I don’t think it’s been since my father’s funeral, right?”
His lips tightened and he dropped his darkening gaze, nodding. “Well,” he said, apparently shaking off his melancholy, “I see you’ve had the pleasure”—he cleared his throat—“of meeting Charlotte McAdams, co-owner of McAdams Insurance. Our appraisers on this contract.”
A light switch flipped on in Addie’s head, and a smile tickled the corners of her lips. “We never got as far as formal introductions.” Now she knew who the woman was—at least by reputation and observation of her sometimes testy encounters with Addie’s old supervisor at the Boston Library. Part of Charlotte’s reputation was how disagreeable she could be to work with, but no one ever negated her abilities as a topnotch appraiser. Addie couldn’t help but feel a little starstruck and awed in her presence.
“You know these two?” Charlotte glared at Blake.
“Yes, this is Addie Greyborne, the daughter of my dearest and oldest”—he crossed his heart—“friend. And, if I’m not mistaken”—he looked at a silent Kalea—“this is her cousin Kalea Hudson.”
“I’m surprised you remember me, it’s been years.” Kalea blinked in surprise.
“It’s the big hazel-green eyes—they’re the same as Addie’s. One of the many wonderful features she inherited from her beautiful mother, as I’m sure you did from her equally beautiful sister.”
“Umm, thank you.” Kalea hesitantly smiled, glancing from Blake’s beaming face to the piercing birdlike eyes scrutinizing them from the doorway.
Charlotte’s nostrils flared. She stomped her clickity-clack, gray high-heeled shoes across the wooden flooring to the leather chair behind the desk, and noisily began to shuffle a stack of papers. “Well,” her voice sliced the air. “This reunion is touching. However, I have work to finish before the auction tomorrow, so if you don’t mind . . .” She waved her hand. “Take this somewhere else and let me finish up here.”
Blake’s jaw tensed. “Charlotte,” he said, his voice straining to remain level. “My company has used the services of McAdams for over thirty-five years. At no time under the direction of your father were either I or any of my clients ever subjected to such contemptuous treatment. Now apologize to these young women and don’t ever let it happen again.”
Charlotte rose to her feet to meet his narrowed glare as she leaned on the desk toward him. “You do realize, Blake, that we would not be in this mess if you had listened to me a month ago, when I informed you that there wasn’t enough time to appraise and catalogue the contents of this entire property in time for the premature auction date you set.”
“You’ve had well over four months to do a job that would have taken any other insurance team two months to complete. What am I paying you for? The wasted time you’ve spent driving back and forth to Boston to check up on your incompetent brother and so-called partner, Duane?”
“How dare you speak about incompetency, when just this week your crew discovered that”—she pointed to the barrister’s bookcase—“in a storage space in the attic. Something they should have found months ago.”
“And they would have,” Blake’s eyes flashed, “had it not been for all the distractions you and your brother created with the inconsistencies between your appraisals and inventory lists.” The explosion of hatred in Charlotte’s eyes matched Blake’s as his voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “Remember, my dear, your father is not dead. He’s retired, and he’s only one phone call away. How do you think he will react when I tell him what I suspect the two of you have been up to? Especially when it’s