Page 18 of Murder on the Page

I narrowed my gaze. “What were you doing hanging around here after closing?”

“If you must know, I had an appointment nearby. The Bramblewood Inn was asking about my services.” The inn was located around the corner, on Mountain Road. “I decided to stretch my legs before going home. I swung through the alley and saw Auntie in her car.”

An alley ran behind the shops on the north side of Main Street to make deliveries easier and keep the thoroughfare free of overly large trucks. “Anyway, Auntie wasn’t home when I arrived this morning at eight.”

“No,” I said, “she was at the shop already. So, why did you go into her house?”

“I needed to use the loo,” Vanna continued. “That’s when I noticed the letter was gone. She must’ve mailed it or something.”

I scoffed.

“What did the letter say?” Zach asked.

“That Tegan, a great lover of books, would be a fine bookshop owner, one that Auntie would entrust with her life’s work.” Vanna whirled on Tegan. “You saw the letter. I know you did.”

“I did not.” Tegan eyed Zach. “I swear I didn’t.” She glowered at her sister. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“I saw a crowd out front.” Vanna harrumphed. “If only Auntie had hired me to do the catering for the tea, instead of Allie, she wouldn’t have died, because I would have been hereat the crack of dawn, and no killer would have been able to get past me.”

“But she didn’t hire you,” Tegan said acidly. “Do you know why? Because she didn’t like your food. Oh, sure, you’ve got a fine reputation, and you’ve got clients, but your food is too frou-frou. Auntie didn’t like it, and that’s why she hired Allie. My friend makes down-to-earth, good-tasting food that sticks to your ribs, and cookies that taste like cookies, not flowers.”

Zach cleared his throat “Ladies, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to each of you individually.”

Vanna huffed. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Tegan said.

“Let’s start with you, Tegan,” he said, gently guiding her toward the rear of the store. “Tell me your whereabouts for this morning.”

Tegan gasped. “You don’t think . . . You can’t think . . .” She glanced over her shoulder at me, and her eyes told the story. She’d balked when Vanna had demanded her alibi, because it was as flimsy as wet cardboard.

CHAPTER5

“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he; “that is rather singular.”

—Mr. Hurst, in Jane Austen’sPride and Prejudice

Itrucked after my friend, earning a caustic stare from Zach. “Does she need a lawyer?”

“Not if she has nothing to hide,” he replied.

“I d-don’t,” Tegan said, but she didn’t sound certain.

Zach waited for me to leave, but I held my ground. Sighing, he said, “Okay, Tegan, fill me in.”

Beyond Zach, I noticed Bates and the female officer eyeing the empty water bottle and sniffing the cold cup of tea. The tech took photos of each, bagged the water bottle, and then pulled a glass container from her carryall and placed the teacup, including the liquid, into it.

“I was at Allie’s until . . .” Tegan paused.

Until three a.m.,I reflected. After that, it was anybody’s guess.

“Around three,” she said, stating the truth.

I breathed easier.

“I couldn’t sleep because Auntie had a scare yesterday. She fainted, and I was worried sick, and—”

“Wait,” Zach cut in. “She fainted?” He regarded me. “You neglected to mention that.”

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