Page 84 of Murder on the Page

“Piper, I have it on good authority that you weren’t alone. Someone saw a man in the house with you.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. Her chin began to tremble.

“Piper.” I reached out, but didn’t touch her. “I don’t think you harmed Marigold, but someone has fingered you, and that someone is talking to the police.”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you his name.”

“Aha.It’s a he.”

“The witness saw you peeking in the bookshop’s windows a few days before the murder, after the shop closed.”

“I needed some YA books. The YA aisle is the one facing the window.”

That sounded reasonable.

Tegan said, “You also came to the shop Sunday when we weren’t open and asked Chloe if you could see the crime scene.”

Piper studied the cup she was holding, as if formulating a response. After a moment, she raised her gaze to meet ours. “Being at the shop that morning, knowing Marigold had been murdered, rocked me to my core, and . . .” She gulped down the rest of her water, crushed the paper cup, and tossed it into the refreshed garbage can. “And I’ve been shaky ever since. I hoped seeing the site, making sense of it in my mind, might help.” She paused, looking as if she wanted to say something more.

I waited.

“Okay, that’s a lie,” she said with a sigh. “I came to the shop Saturday morning at seven a.m., and I met with Marigold.”

Tegan and I exchanged a glance.

Piper continued. “She wanted to talk to me about something in private. I brought my cat with me, and Marigold held him.”

“What did she want to chat about?” I asked.

Piper shook her head once, not willing to cough up that particular answer, but she pressed on. “I was in the shop less than five minutes. Marigold and I worked out the issue, and I left.” She screwed up her mouth. “After she was killed, I got to thinking . . .” Her shoulders slumped. “I got to thinking someone could have seen me and believed I killed her. I’ve read enough mysteries to know the smallest clues might lead to an arrest. So I returned, after the fact, to check out something.”

“What?” Tegan and I asked in unison.

“See, every spring, my cat sheds like crazy. The thick layers he grew for the winter come out in clumps. I worried that thepolice might find his hair in the shop and on Marigold’s clothes.” Her face pinched with pain. “I didn’t kill her. You’ve got to believe me. I went home and came back later, when others were already there. I didn’t do it.”

“Tell us who was with you in your house that morning,” I coaxed. “He’s your alibi.”

Piper regarded the children at the art table and returned her focus to us. “You can’t tell the police.”

I almost said I wouldn’t, but stopped short, because if I needed to, I would.

“A homeless student has been staying with me. That’s what Marigold wanted to discuss. She knew.” Piper wheezed as if all the air was leaving her lungs. The relief on her face after uttering the truth was palpable.

“Go on,” I said.

“College students are struggling right now. Leasing an apartment is expensive, especially with no credit record. Some students are able to rent rooms, and many find RVs to live in, but a few don’t have the funds and decide they need their education more than housing, so they wing it.”

“Wing it?” Tegan asked.

“They live on the street. In tents, if they can afford them.” Piper worried the sapphire gem on her necklace with her thumb and forefinger. “One of my former students is now a junior at UNC Asheville. He knew a young man who was in such a situation. He would have taken him in and hidden him in his dorm room on campus, but if he got caught, he could be ousted and didn’t want to risk it. He asked if I could help out.”

“How old is this young man?” I asked.

“Nineteen.”

Of age. I breathed easier.

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