Page 71 of Murder on the Page

“She rebounded after Dad died and put all her efforts into opening a restaurant. She owns Jukebox Joint.”

“No way. I thought she was a farmer.”

“Grandpa was the farmer. Mom couldn’t wait to leave the nest and forge her own path. When Dad was alive, she managed a couple of restaurants, but she couldn’t find the courage to start one of her own.”

I’d been to the Joint, as locals called it. It was known for its tasty barbecue. I looked at Zach harder, trying to see the resemblance. Like him, his mother had dark hair and bright eyes, but she was petite and delicate. He must have gotten his strapping physique from his father.

I said, “I’ve been trying to land the Joint as a customer. The desserts menu is limited.”

“I know,” he said sheepishly. “She plans to call you soon.”

A bard in a Tudor flat cap, brown cape, canvas pants, and ankle-high leather boots jauntily strolled past our table playinga tune on a lute. He wasn’t singing, but he was humming in a throaty baritone voice. He tipped his head and winked at me.

“Seems someone has forgotten the words,” Zach said, mock-jealousy in his tone.

I laughed. “Don’t worry. I don’t date anyone who wears a feather in his cap.”

Oops.I’d said the forbidden word . . . “date.” What was I thinking?

We both grew quiet and ate our meals.

After a long moment, I said, “What more have you unearthed about Graham Wynn? By the way, he has a bandage on his arm. Did Marigold scratch her killer?”

Zach’s gaze grew flinty. “You’re going there? Really? You want to hear about the investigation? We were having such a good time.”

I grinned, but my smile faded quickly, because he wasn’t kidding. He was ticked off. His cheek was twitching the same way my father’s would when I didn’t complete a homework assignment. I held up both hands. “Please don’t be mad. I simply wanted to tell you what Tegan dug up on him.”

“Why was Tegan looking into him?”

“Because she wants her aunt’s killer to be brought to justice as much as I do, and he’s on her suspect list. After his neighbor mentioned that he might be into drugs—”

“You never told me that.”

No, I didn’t, because I hadn’t taken the accusation seriously. Years ago, a friend in college had been into drugs, and his eyes were always rheumy, as if he’d checked out. Whenever I’d talked to Graham, his eyes had been clear. On the other hand, if he wasn’t doing drugs, but he was selling them . . .Hmm.“Have you questioned Celia Harrigan?” I asked.

“Bates did. Like me, he thinks she’s a rumormonger.”

Why dismiss her out of hand?I wondered, but let it go.

“FYI, there was no scratch on Graham Wynn’s arm,” Zach said. “He got a new tattoo.”

Like I’d first surmised. Rats. “What about the people who had keys to the bookshop, you know, security people and such?”

“All cleared. All have alibis.”

“Ruling out suspects is important, right?”

“Allie.”

“As for Tegan,” I said to divert him. “She’s an ace researcher. It’s the almost librarian in her.”

“Almost?”

“She intended to become one, but when she started working at Feast for the Eyes, she fell in love with bookselling and working alongside her aunt. Even so, she never lost the skills she honed in her undergraduate library science studies.” I took another bite of my meal and offered Zach a taste. He declined. “If Graham is somehow involved with drugs, does that put him back on your radar?”

“Let’s discuss Tegan,” he said.

The way he said it made my blood go cold. “Okay.”

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