Proof of Murder (Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery #4) - Lauren Elliott Page 0,65
out of here.”
“I can’t go now.” Addie jerked her head toward the officers by the door. “I have to wait until they’re done.”
“Unfortunately, I have to get back to my shop. Elli’s in a tailspin over all this and was terrified about me leaving her alone just to pop in here.”
“I think we’ll need to reevaluate our working alone policies after this episode.”
Serena’s gaze went to the floor. “Do you think this is related to the book thefts?”
“Not when nothing was stolen. I think, if it is related, it’s more like a warning.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been so consumed with my arrest I haven’t had time to look at any of the evidence yet.” She glanced at her back-room door. “Maybe it’s time I start to try to put some of these pieces together.”
“Well, stay out of trouble, and as soon as the police leave, lock your door. We don’t want another attack happening in case the person comes back. Maybe the first time was just a recon so they could see what was in the store and how many staff was in here.” Serena gave her a quick squeeze and trotted out the door.
“I’ll be in the back room if you need me,” Addie called to an officer by the door.
He ticked his head in acknowledgment, and she marched toward the storage room. Maybe if she got lucky, she’d discover who the book thief was and figure out if Charlotte’s death and the missing books were related. The same theory she’d originally presented, and one that Marc had yet to embrace. She flipped the drop cloth off the board, picked up the chalk, and tapped it on the black surface. He said he needed evidence before he could ever consider that her hunch was right, so evidence is what she would find. “Okay, girl, start with what you know.”
Library door bolted from inside
Windows securely latched from inside – sash warped, unable to be opened without breaking window
No other entrance to room
Tipped over teacup
A tipped-over teacup. The contents had obviously dripped down the side of the desk onto the book below it. Charlotte must have been working on these books when . . . When what? The stains weren’t evident under the book, so the book was dropped first, and then the tea was spilt.
Heard something behind her
Dropped the book
Spun the chair around
Her left elbow knocked over the cup
Contents spilled across the desk onto the book on the floor
???
She drew a vicious line under the question marks. How did everything play out? She needed proof, not conjecture.
Reading over what she’d written, Addie added:
Books on floor dropped after tea spilt. She circled the word after.
Feather pen from inkwell on desk missing
Missing laptop? She’d have to ask Marc next time she saw him if it had been recovered yet.
Rare books and original magazine edition of debut story exchanged for cheap reproductions
Angle of the desk chair turned toward fireplace
Books on center display table, disturbed missing price/info cards
Firebox ashes smeared across hearth and floor
Faint footprint on throw carpet by desk – stepping in spilt tea?
My fingerprints on window ledge and pry bar and broken acrylic nail found outside of window!
Books in shop on floor???
Paige attacked in the store!
She smashed the chalk onto the board, sending bits flying.
“Addie?”
She spun toward the door. “Marc?”
“I hoped we could talk for a minute.” He stood in the doorway, cap in hand, a sheepish look on his face.
“Where’s your partner?”
“She’s at the hospital, taking a statement from Paige.”
“She’s awake?” Addie checked her phone for a message from Simon. Nothing. “I’m not sure what we have to talk about. After arresting me, you made it very clear about what kind of relationship we have now: you the cop, me the perp. So unless you’ve come back to accuse me of something else ridiculous like knocking Paige out and are going to haul me into the station again, we really don’t have anything else to say to each other.”
“I’m just trying to make sense of all this. Of me, what I’m feeling.” His gaze met hers. “Of us? When I held you, I . . .” He slumped back against the doorframe.
His gaze locked with hers, but instead of feeling what she would once have felt, that shiver of excitement about being captured in his deep brown eyes, she only saw a haunted expression of a man she no longer knew.
He must have sensed their distance, too, and picked up on the fact that unless what he had to say