Page 50 of Murder on the Page

“Quinby,” Tegan said even more sunnily. “Is your better half Candace with you?” she asked, confirming my suspicion that the singer was his wife.

“No.”

I’d never seen Quinby Canfield before. Angular, with jawbones that could cut ice, he had a feral look in his eye, like he was itching for a fight, but Tegan seemed steady and unworried.

“I didn’t like the beginning of this book,” Quinby said. “I want to return it.” He shoved it at her.

Tegan inspected it. “The spine is broken.”

“Not my fault.”

“It was intact when you purchased it.”

“Says who?” He balled a fist.

My shoulders tensed. Would I need to intervene? I was bigger and stronger than my petite pal.

Tegan remained calm and continued to scan the book. After a long moment, she said, “Okay, then. I’ll give you a refund. Get in line.”

Ugh.Was the customer always right? Would the book now go on the discounted table? How was Tegan staying so nonchalant? I wanted to punch the bully in his pointy nose.

Chloe approached the desk with Stella, who was carrying anarmload of cozy mysteries. From the spines, I could see one was a Honeychurch Hall mystery and another was a Paws & Claws Mystery. I’d read both of the delightful books and couldn’t wait for new releases in the series. Stella lined up behind Quinby.

Sotto voce, but loudly enough for all to hear, Quinby said to Graham, “If you ask me, that raven-haired she-wolf Piper Lowry killed Marigold.”

I gasped. That was some accusation and some description—yes, Piper had dark hair, but she wasn’t at all predatory. In fact, she struck me as a docile woman with a kind word for everyone. Did Quinby know Graham personally, or was he spouting off because he felt Graham was a kindred spirit?

“She’s a bad influence on the young,” Quinby continued. “She taught my son squat. He had to do an extra year at the JC in order to better his grades before he could get accepted at UNC Asheville. She thinks we all have money to burn.”

“Quinby Canfield, that’s not true,” Stella said. “I know Piper very well. She would never make anyone do an extra year unless he or she needed it. She’s devoted to her students.”

I’d have to agree. Once when I was browsing the bookstore, I’d spotted Piper with a small group of students she’d brought in on a field trip. She was teaching them in the nook area. Her manner was excellent and enthralling. Each of her students was paying rapt attention.

“Bah, Stella!” Quinby sliced the air with a hand. “Keep your trap shut.”

“Do you two know each other?” I asked.

“I’m Quinby’s accountant,” Stella said. “And I’m Piper’s neighbor.”

Small world.But, then, Bramblewood’s population was a mere nine thousand.Six degrees of separation was a real thing here.

Graham finalized his purchase, threw me a curious look upon exiting, and Quinby stepped forward.

“Piper Lowry is bad news,” Quinby continued, palm out, ready for his refund. “That’s all there is to it, and I’ll make sure the police know it.”

“Quinby,” Tegan said, “for your edification, Piper and my aunt got along famously. They could wax rhapsodic about any kind of fiction or nonfiction, and Piper is always up-to-date on the latest books her students might enjoy.”

“Well,” he said, “I don’t like talking out of turn . . .”

Sure you do,I thought.

“But I saw her sneaking around the bookshop a few days before the murder, peeking in the windows after hours. Why was she doing that? Not to get ideas for the classroom, that’s for sure. My guess? She was trying to find a secret way in.”

A niggling sensation ran down my spine as I recalled Chloe saying Piper had seemed more than curious about the murder—so curious, in fact, that she’d come into the shop Sunday under the pretense of needing consoling and asked to see exactly where Marigold died. Was I wrong about her? Did a killer lurk beneath the surface of her sweet personality?

“Quinby, there’s no way she killed Marigold,” Stella said. “No way.”

I hoped she was right.

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