“Ms. Ivey didn’t say anything about a ‘Private and Confidential’ envelope. She said she put it into a bank envelope, and Auntie slotted the envelope into her satchel.”
“You’re right! Do you remember seeing your aunt’s satchel at the shop?”
“Yes. It was tucked under the sales counter. The police went through it. They didn’t find any cash or bank envelope in it.”
We both fell silent. Cars whooshed by.
A recent exchange with Marigold came to mind. Last week, when I went to Feast for the Eyes to pick up the Jenn McKinlay mystery I’d preordered, she asked me if I’d read Grisham’sThe FirmorThe Whistler,or Puzo’sThe Godfather.I said yes, I’d read all three—each of the books had bribery as a theme—but before we could discuss them, a customer entered, desperately in need of a book for her granddaughter’s birthday, and I had to depart to deliver lemon-lavender scones to a client.
“Or . . .” I said softly, letting the word hang.
“Or what?” Tegan glanced at me.
“What if someone wanted to blackmail her?”
“No, no, and no. Auntie never did anything wrong in her life. She was as honest as the day is long.” Tegan took the turns at too high a speed. She’d never been involved in an accident, so I didn’t ask her to slow down, but I gripped the door handle in case she was tempting fate.
A minute later, she pulled into her parking spot in the alley behind the shop, and we hustled through the rear door. The aroma of burned coffee wafted to me.
“Chloe,” I muttered, and switched off the coffeepot. “Tegan, it’s time you invest in a Keurig. It’s not worth the waste . . . or the stench.”
“You mean, it’s timeweinvest.”
My head ached at the thought of partnering with my best friend. Would we face the same kinds of conflicts Dennell was experiencing with her business partner? Maybe it would be better if I was a silent partner, like Noeline. On the other hand, I could instigate some specialty events at the shop and drum up business utilizing my catering skills. Throw a few teas. Even open up a small café in the far-right corner. There was room. What kind of license would we need?
We weaved between a new shipment of book boxes, and I said, “I’ve got an idea. Let’s go through your aunt’s email andtexts and see who she was communicating with. She might have mentioned the cash.”
“The police confiscated her phone, and they browsed the shop’s computer, as well as her personal one.”
“Okay, but how thoroughly?”
She threw me a sideways glance. “You read too many mysteries.”
“Get with the times, girlfriend. Fresh eyes on the prize . . . or, in this case, clues.”
We passed through the arch to the bookshop and came to a halt. Lots of people were browsing books in the aisles. A line of customers was waiting at the sales counter ready to check out. Chloe was trying furiously to keep up. Her red scarf was askew. Her usually smooth black hair looked as if she’d combed it with an eggbeater. Evidently, one person managing the bookshop that was overrun with traffic was not enough manpower.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Lillian Bellingham said to Tegan. She was standing on the other side of the sales counter. In her tailored 1940s-style suit, with its broad shoulders, tapered waist, and large lapels, she looked like she could be cast inWitness for the Prosecution.All she’d need was a fancy fascinator hat to complete the ensemble. “I have sample costumes for the memorial.” She’d draped a travel dress bag over one ladder-back chair and had stacked a bunch of hatboxes on the other.
“In a sec,” Tegan said, and sidled next to Chloe to tend to customers. “Allie, would you bag the books?”
I saluted.
Lillian said, “Your aunt would be so happy you’re having the memorial for her. How she treasured the theater, and she lived for afternoon tea.”
Minutes later, when the line of customers had dwindled to one, Tegan rounded the counter and splayed her hands. “Show us what you brought, Lillian.”
“What do you think of this little number?” Lillian unzipped the dress bag and pulled out a lacy sage-green gown with empire bodice, puff sleeves, and an elegant train.
“Ooh,”Tegan said. “Pretty, but not for me. It’s perfect for Allie, though it might need altering. This green is her favorite color. Got anything in blue?”
“Of course, but nothing with anime characters,” Lillian teased.
“Ha-ha.”
“Check out the hats I brought, too.” She gestured to the stack of boxes. “Open the top one.”
Tegan did and pulled out a baby-blue boater. “Love it.”