Page 13 of Murder on the Page

The stockroom light was on, but the rest of the shop was dark. The sales counter was empty of the stacks of books that were piled on it yesterday. The rolling ladder was repositioned at the end of the left aisle, nearest the window.

Noeline sighed. “You don’t think she’s had another fainting spell, do you, Allie?”

A frisson of concern skittered down my spine. Was Marigold’s condition something worse than dehydration?

“Oh, if only I had my keys,” Noeline said. “I left them at home. I didn’t think—” She poked Rick’s arm. “Can you pick the lock?”

He laughed uncomfortably. “I’m skillful, sweetness, but that’s one talent I lack.”

“You said you’re a whiz at all things technical.”

“ ‘Technical’ is the operative word.”

If only Marigold had given me a key to the shop. I’d suggested it once, saying that way I could set up earlier for teas and she could sleep in, but she’d pooh-poohed the idea.

“Do you know where Tegan is, Allie?” Noeline asked.

“She wasn’t at the B and B this morning?”

“No. She texted me last night to say she was staying with you.” Her face paled. “I hope she didn’t go home. What if she got into a fight with Winston?”

“You know about the problem with their marriage?”

“Yes.”

I rested a hand on her arm. “I’m sure she’s just running late, thinking her aunt has this covered.”

“Except she doesn’t.”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” I said, though a twinge of worry for my pal nipped me in the gut. Tegan always responded to texts in a timely manner. So, why hadn’t she this morning? Was she all right?

“Everyone, move away from the door, please.” Chloe Kang, the twenty-something junior clerk at the shop, who possessed the vim of the Energizer Bunny, beat a path through the crowd while waving her key chain. Her almond-shaped eyes sparkled with joy. The outfit she had on—plaid poncho, red dress, and Sherlock Holmes–style hat—made her look like a character on a Nancy Drew book cover. “Where’s Marigold?”

“We don’t know,” Noeline said.

Chloe cupped her hands and peered through the window. “This reminds me ofThe Secret of the—”

“Not now, Chloe,” Noeline snapped.

Chloe could rattle off tidbits about every novel she’d ever read. She’d never held a job that wasn’t in a bookstore or library.

“Open up,” Noeline demanded. “We’re freezing.”

“Here we go.” Chloe, always chipper, inserted her key into the lock, twisted, and pushed the door open. She switched on a single light. “Give me a sec. I’ll make it brighter.” She bustled toward the panel of light switches at the rear of the store, rounded the sales counter, and screamed.

CHAPTER4

“Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly.”

—Elizabeth Bennet, in Jane Austen’sPride and Prejudice

“Marigold has fallen again!” Chloe cried.

I cut around the other patrons and spotted Marigold lying faceup on the floor. My breath snagged. Blood had pooled beneath her head. Her face was blue. But that was all I could see of her. The rest was buried beneath a pile of coffee-table books, cookbooks, and hardcover fiction. I bent to clear them.

“Oh, my!” Noeline whimpered.

I glanced over my shoulder at her. The knuckles of her right hand were pressed to her lips. Though my insides were chugging with adrenaline, I shouted like a trained paramedic, “Everyone, back up! You too, Noeline.” I started pushing books off Marigold. “Give us room. Chloe, call 911.”

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