Page 21 of Murder on the Page

Tegan opened her eyes wide. “No.”

“It was a legal envelope about yea big.” I gestured with my hands. “With the words ‘Private and Confidential’ on it. It was empty.”

“What do you think was inside?”

“She might have kept records in it or notes for books that were reserved.” Neither of those seemed like something worth stealing.

“How did the killer get in?”

“Not sure.” At one point, Bates had gone to the stockroom. He and Zach must know by now whether the door had been locked or unlocked. “Do you have your key?”

“Sure do. I don’t leave home without it.”

“Your mother left hers at the B and B.”

“Understandable. She doesn’t open the shop. Her key is purely a backup.”

“Why do you think your aunt was holdingPride and Prejudice?” I asked.

“Conceivably, she was reading it for the umpteenth time when the killer showed up. It was her favorite book. She could quote every passage.” Tegan dumped the remainder of her cinnamon bun into the carry bag and wadded her napkin. “She once told me that if she was reincarnated, she wanted to returnas Elizabeth Bennet because Lizzie was smart yet tender, and she adored her silly family.” She smiled whimsically. “I guess that was her way of saying she thought we were silly.”

“Not you.” I patted my friend’s hand. “Not your mother, either.”Possibly Vanna,I reflected, but didn’t say it aloud.

Tegan rotated the bag with one finger. “Do you think the police will find clues? Fingerprints? DNA evidence? That kind of thing?”

“Let’s hope.” Before leaving the bookshop, I’d heard Bates requesting that another technician come to the site.

“When do you think they’ll let me in?” She sighed. “There will be so much to do.”

“As soon as they have everything they need. I’d guess around twenty-four hours.”

Had someone from the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner shown up yet? The OCME investigated all deaths due to injury or violence.

“Do you know if your mother will hold a funeral?” I asked.

“Auntie wanted to be cremated.”

That surprised me. I would have thought Marigold would have preferred a traditional burial. “You know what we should do to honor her, then?” I polished off my latte. “We should host a memorial tea, and we should center it aroundPride and Prejudice.I can make food from the era, and we could ask everyone to dress up in costumes. I’m sure Lillian, with her connections at the theater, could get her hands on a variety of Regency Era getups. They’ve done plays from that time period. Or she could design some.” I remembered admiring the clothes she’d made forSense and Sensibility, in particular the bonnets.

“What a wonderful idea! Auntie would love that.” She clapped a hand to her chest. “We could have a string quartet playing music from that era, too.”

“If you want, we could even make it a book club–type event. We could read passages from the book.”

“Yes.” Tears leaked down Tegan’s cheeks. “That’s perfect. When?”

“Saturday, two weeks from now. That should give us plenty of time to prepare.”

“I’ll alert my mother, and we’ll clue in the bookshop customers and Auntie’s friends and the theater foundation folks.” She squinched up her face. “I can’t believe Vanna thinks—”

“You didn’t kill your aunt, and your sister knows it. If your aunt really did write a letter, like Vanna says, she’s feeling maligned. We’ll get her on board. You’ll see.”

“I need to be with my mother.”

“Go. I’ll dispose of our trash.”

Needing a project so I wouldn’t dwell on Marigold’s demise and sink into a dark emotional abyss, I delivered all the goods in the van to a nearby women’s shelter—I didn’t want to throw it all out—and then I drove to Dream Cuisine to deal with the decimated ants. By now, the pest company would’ve sprayed, but they wouldn’t have cleaned up. Most importantly, I had to figure out where the critters had entered. If Vanna hadn’t instigated the attack, and to be honest, I doubted she was smart enough to have dreamed it up, caulking might be in order.

After opening the door and tapping in the security code, I hurried to my teensy office, where I disrobed, wriggled into a one-piece jumper I kept on hand, slipped into a pair of clogs, and headed to the kitchen. When baking, I used my scrubbed, bare hands to decorate cookies and cakes and to arrange fruit in tarts and such, but when cleaning, I always covered up. Disposable latex-free gloves were one of those items I kept in stock at all times. I opened a new box, pulled on a pair, and scoured the corners of my specialty kitchen.

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