Page 20 of Murder on the Page

I carried my purchases to where Tegan was standing and unpacked our treats. Rhythmic reggae music played through speakers, but I sure didn’t feel like dancing.

“You really didn’t know about the inheritance?” I nibbled the scone. The extra lemon zest I’d added gave it a real zing.

“Not a whit.” She sipped her coffee, flinching from the heat. “I mean, Auntie might have mentioned it, but I thought she was kidding. After all, she shared the shop with Mom. I figured if she died, she’d leave her portion to my mother and let her figure out, you know, if she even wanted to keep it. Mom’s been so busy at the inn, she’s taken no interest in the bookshop.” She took a bite of her cinnamon bun and hummed her approval. “Mmm.Moist. You should make these.”

“I’ll test out a few recipes.” I popped the lid on my coffee to let it cool. “Where did you go this morning? What’s your alibi? And don’t lie. I can read you like a book. A memorized book. And is Winston really out of town on a trip? Zach can verify that.”

“He is on a trip. I didn’t lie about that.”

“But you didn’t go home.”

She picked up a crumb of cinnamon bun with her fingertip and sucked it off. “No. I visited a friend.”

“A friend?” I was stunned. How could she be seeing someone so soon after learning of Winston’s deceit? “What’s his name?”

“Not a guy friend. A girlfriend.”

“Golly! Why didn’t you tell Zach that? She can vouch for you.”

“No, she can’t.”

“Why not?” I asked. “What’s the big secret?”

“I can’t say. Please don’t make me. Just believe me when I say I was with her until eight forty-five.” She slumped as if the weight of the world had landed on her.

I patted her shoulder. “Okay, for now, I won’t press. You were somewhere. With someone. That’s good.” I took another bite of my scone and sipped the latte.

“Who killed my aunt?” Tegan said, her voice crackling with sadness.

My insides wrenched. My sorrow couldn’t be as poignant as hers, but I’d lost a good friend, a fellow bibliophile. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Auntie didn’t like Rick.”

“He didn’t kill her. He barely knew her.”

“She was edgy around him.”

“She would have been prickly around any of your mother’s boyfriends. She loved your father. She thought he and your mother were the perfect pair. Who else?”

“Auntie was always complaining about her neighbor Graham.”

“He’s the one you were referring to yesterday. She wanted him to get his act together.”

She hummed.

“What was the problem?” I asked. “Did he throw loud parties?”

“No. He watched her.”

“Like a stalker?”

“Not exactly. More like he kept eyes on her. He watched other neighbors, too. He doesn’t trust anyone.”

“That reminds me of the neighbor who lived across the street from Samantha inBewitched.Remember her?”

“Gladys Kravitz!” Tegan cried. As girls, we’d watched reruns in the afternoons and had tried in vain to twitch our noses. We’d failed miserably.

“Yes, her.” I polished off my scone and brushed my fingertips on the napkin provided with the treats. “Did you see the envelope near your aunt’s head?”

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