Page 98 of Murder on the Page

I removed a bowl from the crate and filled it with water. While setting it at the foot of the bookshelf, I remembered the female officer at the crime scene putting the teacup into a glass container. Had the killer laced the tea with poison? Was that how Zach had figured out tetrahydrozoline had been used, or had the coroner deduced it by testing the contents of Marigold’s stomach? The teacup had looked full, so I didn’t think Marigold had drunk any of the liquid, but possibly the poison was so lethal one sip would have killed her. My insides ached at the notion of how she must have suffered.

I rejoined Tegan in the main shop. She was poring over a list of quotes Chloe had gleaned fromPride and Prejudice.

“I like this one,” Tegan said. She showed us the selection:“Do you prefer reading books to cards?” said he; “that is rather singular.”

Chloe laughed. “Good one, Tegan. Marigold would agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment.”

“And this one,” Tegan said. She pointed at:“Nothing is more deceitful,” said Darcy, “than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast.”

I nodded. “Truer words were never said.”

“Here’s one Vanna might enjoy,” Tegan said, giggling. Shemotioned to:“Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied.”

Chloe cackled.

So did I but instantly felt bad about it. “Tegan, we can’t hang that one.”

“Auntie would have found it amusing.”

“Okay,” I said, “but let’s put it in an aisle Vanna won’t browse.”

Tegan fanned a hand. “We’re safe. She won’t peruse any books other than cookbooks.”

For the next half hour, we selected another dozen quotes. Chloe marked them off to take to the printer. Then we decided on the artwork—still images from thePride and Prejudiceseries—that Chloe had downloaded from the computer and had printed in black-and-white samples.

“They’re publicity photos,” she said. “No rights required. Besides, we’re not selling them. We’re purely using them for decoration.”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy is dreamy, isn’t he?” Tegan sighed, putting a checkmark on six of the images Chloe had downloaded. “I like these. Let’s have the printer make sixteen-by-twenty posters.”

Chloe collected them into a file folder and set off on her task.

“Tegan,” I said, “speaking of Fitzwilliam Darcy, I haven’t heard diddly from that detective agency.”

“Maybe Auntie didn’t follow through with them?”

“But she had with Oly Olsen, as I told you.”

“What if . . .” Tegan spun around. “What if the police haven’t solved Auntie’s murder by Saturday? It will cast a pall over the proceedings.”

“A memorial is already sad, my friend. There’s nothing we can do about that.” I petted her shoulder. “But we’ll do our best to make it a celebration of your aunt’s life, even if there isn’t closure. We’ll tell stories about how she started thebookshop and how she donated her time and energy to worthy causes.”

She rounded the counter and sank onto the ladder-back chair. I sat in the one beside her. “If Graham didn’t kill her, and Piper didn’t do it—”

“Katrina is my bet.”

“But she has an alibi.”

“Not confirmed yet. I wish we knew who might be savvy about poisons.”

“Poisons?” She arched an eyebrow.

I wanted to kick myself. Until now, I’d kept my promise to Zach and hadn’t told my best friend I knew the method of murder.

“Auntie was poisoned? With what?”

“A decongestant that comes in nasal sprays and eye drop forms and might have been administered in the bottle of water or cup of tea the police took for evidence.”

“Was that why you were asking about which of our customers might be doctors or scientists?”

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