Proof of Murder (Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery #4) - Lauren Elliott Page 0,68
he was leaning after you presented him with my alibi?”
If Simon noticed the change of subject, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he was just as relieved as she was not to talk about Marc anymore. “Not really, but my gut says he was going to look into it deeper. All we can do is wait now and see what he decides.”
“I can’t wait anymore. So far this week that’s all I’ve done, and I can’t help but think that this attack on Paige was a warning.”
“What makes you say that?”
“All the books that were on the floor that covered her were ghost story books or books about the supernatural. Someone is really trying to make this look like a paranormal event.”
“Especially given that Paige didn’t hear or see anyone behind her when the books started to fly around.”
“Yeah.” She pressed her lips tight. “But I just can’t see how they could have pulled it off, though. The police didn’t find any strings running along behind the books. You know, something someone could have planted earlier that they could tug on to make the books fly off, and I can’t figure out another way it could have worked.”
“The culprit might have taken any trace of the threads or other props they used when they left?”
“You’re right.” She shook herself. “But regardless of how this was staged, my gut tells me it was a warning sent to scare me off.”
“Scare you off of what? So far you haven’t done anything except get arrested for robbery and spend the night in jail.”
“I know. That’s why it doesn’t make sense. Tonight was the first time I’ve even written any of the clues on the board, so it’s not like someone has seen them and got scared because I’m on to something.”
“But you did have names on there before.”
Addie blew out a deep breath. “You’re right.”
“Do you think Paige’s attack and the book thefts are related?”
“My instincts tell me they are, just like they tell me Charlotte was murdered and didn’t coincidentally die.”
“Addie, I still haven’t completed the autopsy, but what I have so far shows no indications of any cause of death other than what I reported to Marc. It appears to have been a heart attack.”
“Okay, then what can cause a heart attack?”
“Poor lifestyle choices, hereditary factors, illness, disease. There’s a number of factors that can contribute to heart failure.”
“Poison?”
“Yes, but I haven’t found any indication of that.”
“On the upside that means at least one of Ryley’s theories about me giving Charlotte some tainted tea was wrong.”
“The woman died, and someone took advantage of her death to steal the books. That’s what happened.”
“Okay, Sherlock, then how did they get into the library and achieve that?”
His face went ashen.
“Exactly. We need to get back into that house without Jerry hanging over my shoulder.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing, come on. It sounds like the police are finishing up out front. We need to take a drive.”
Addie locked the front door after the last officer left and hopped into Simon’s Tesla Sport Coupe. He drove to the corner, turned right up Main, and then a few blocks down he turned left on the winding street toward Hill Road House.
Addie glanced at the dashboard clock. She was pleased to see that it was past six. That meant the yard sale had been over for a couple of hours and shoppers would be long gone. Simon pulled into a space in front of the main gate. They started up the sidewalk but stopped midway under a bough of the old maple tree when the front door burst open. Blake appeared, his hands clenching the shirt collar of a short, balding man.
“I told you to stay away from here!” Blake hauled him out onto the porch and shouted mere inches from the man’s flustered face. “You’ve caused enough trouble for all of us lately!”
“She was my sister, and that means I now have the legal right to the money you still owe for the work she did.” The man poked his finger into Blake’s chest.
“Exactly. The work she did. Remember that and get out of here. I already told you that the firm will receive what’s owed to them after the private bidders’ auction is completed.”
“But that’s not for weeks, and I . . . we have bills to cover.”
“Your gambling debts aren’t my problem, and they should never have been Charlotte’s, either.” Blake shoved the man and he tumbled, arms flailing, down the stairs.