Murder by the Book (Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery #1) by Lauren Elliott (38)

Double-checking its security her line of vision drifted up to bay windows on either side of the glazed entrance. She stood back admiring the new Founders Day displays she’d created to commemorate the day in the 1700s that her forefather declared Greyborne Harbor a town site. A smile tugged at her lips. Yes, it was going to be another good day. Business had picked up since she was cleared of any wrongdoing in the Greyborne Harbor murder case of the century, and she had become more accepted in her new town. What could go wrong?

Back inside, she paused to adjust the fishnet backdrop in one of the windows to give it a more billowing appearance, straightened the starfish, adjusted the pirate galleon in the sand-and-sea diorama, grinned, placed a pod in the coffee machine, and waited. The aroma of a fresh brewed cup soon filled the air, taunting her nose. The doorbell chimed behind her, and she turned to see a petite, fiery, redhead at the corner of a bookshelf.

“Serena, good morning, do you want a cup?”

Her best friend and the local tea merchant stood unmoving except for one finger coiling a lock of her long, crimped hair.

“Are you okay?” Addie glanced at Serena sideways and stirred cream into her coffee. “You seem a bit foggy this morning, and look as though you need coffee more than I do.” She offered Serena the cup of fresh brew.

Serena shook her head.

“Okay . . . ? Is everything alright?” Addie’s brow furrowed. “You don’t look well. Did something happen?”

Serena’s hand trembled as she pulled a newspaper from under her arm and then stood, wringing it in both hands, the color draining from her usually rosy cheeks.

Addie’s eyes narrowed. She set her cup down. “What’s this?” She snatched the paper from Serena’s slender hand.

Her eyes scanned the front page of the Greyborne Harbor Daily News . She turned the page, searched the next, then the next, and the next, and stopped. Her fingers clutched the edges of the paper. Her bottom lip quivered, and she leaned against the counter.

“I thought you might need some company when you read this,” Serena’s usual silvery voice tightened.

Addie stared down at the article. “How could they?”

“What? How could they publish something like this?” Addie stared wide mouthed at Serena. “No proof, no evidence, they have nothing to substantiate the claim that I would know anything about her disappearance.” She shook the paper in Serena’s face. “Besides, I wasn’t even a librarian. I was in research. Something that reporter had better learn how to do.” She crumpled the newspaper.

“I know, I know.” Serena grasped the paper from Addie’s white knuckles and tossed it on the counter. “I think you need to sit down. Your coffee’s cold. I’ll make you a nice, hot, fresh one.”

“I don’t want another coffee.” Addie smacked her fist on the counter. “I want answers.”

“I know you do.” Serena took Addie’s vibrating shoulders and ushered her onto a counter stool. “Please sit and I’ll try to explain something about the Greyborne Harbor Daily News .”

“You shouldn’t be explaining. They need to. I’m going over to the newspaper office right now.” Addie sprang to her feet.

Serena placed her hands on Addie’s shoulders and pressed her back onto the stool. “Not a good idea with you in this state. First sit and listen.”

Addie raked her hands through her long hair.

“Take a deep breath.” Serena’s fingers pressed firmly on Addie’s shoulders. “Count to ten. Let me make a coffee and we’ll talk.”

Addie nodded reluctantly.

“Promise me that if I turn my back on you, you won’t bolt out the door and do something rash.”

Addie clenched her teeth.

“I’ll take that as a yes, you will behave.” Serena slowly released her grip on Addie and backed toward the coffee maker at the end of the ornately carved Victorian bar Addie used for a cash and coffee counter.

Addie let out a deep breath and bit her quivering bottom lip. “I thought all this speculation about me being one of the bad guys was over, but now this?” Her hand brushed across the newspaper sending it fluttering to the floor.

Serena sighed and placed a steaming cup on the counter in front of her. “And it should have ended any talk of you being part of or trying to evade some Boston crime ring, but . . .”

“But what? Did it just fuel the flames for some very small-minded people around this town? And who on earth is this Miss Newsy?”

“Miss Nosey is more like it,” snickered Serena.

“Exactly and how in heavens name can she get away with printing something as libelous as this about me? I’m going to sue.” Addie huffed into her cup then set it down. “Really, I don’t get it. How did fake news and false reporting become so acceptable today?” She shook her head and picked up her cup, taking a large gulp.

Serena cringed. “That’s the hot one.”

Addie flinched, and the cup slipped from her fingers. She leapt to her feet as hot coffee poured in all directions and ran down the counter edges toward her lap. Serena jumped up and raced toward a roll of paper towels behind the counter. Addie started to laugh, then cry, then laugh again. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Soon Serena, too, doubled over holding her stomach gasping between fits of laughter. A voice boomed behind Addie. She spun around coming face to face with Chief of Police, Marc Chandler. She gasped, lost her footing and stumbled toward him.

He grabbed her mid collision, and up righted her before she head butted his chest. “This isn’t quite the scene I envisioned walking into.” A broad smile swept across his face. “But glad you girls can see the humor in it.”

Addie glared up at him.

His smile crumbled.

“Humor in this?” she snapped.

“But I just thought . . .” Marc’s face turned ashen. “I mean you were—”

“Were what?” Addie planted her feet firmly, swept a strand of honey-brown hair from her eyes, and straightened her shoulders. “Actually, you’re just the person I want to talk to Chief .”

Marc took a step back. “Okay . . . Miss Greyborne, how can the Harbor Police Department be of assistance today?” He looked warily from Addie to Serena who had slid up beside her friend. Addie spun around, snatched up the newspaper from the floor, and thrust it at Marc.

“This, this . . .” Addie’s voice vibrated, “this piece of trash that was printed about me.” Her finger stabbed at the page.

Marc clutched the brim of his police cap in his hands and rocked back on his heels. “Well, Miss Greyborne,” he cleared his throat, “I can take your statement . . . I guess. But,” he sucked in a deep breath, “I must caution you. That article was published in the gossip column of the paper and doesn’t have to be factual to be printed.” Addie’s eyes flashed. He glanced sideways at his sister Serena, his dark-brown eyes pleading for help.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you Addie,” Serena crooned from a safe distance. “Come on, let’s sit down and I’ll try to explain how this newspaper works. It’s probably nothing like the big papers you’re used to in Boston, London or New York.”

“No, it’s not. A gossip column where anyone can print anything they like, true or not! I’ve never heard of such shoddy journalism.” She threw the newspaper to the floor and stomped on it on her way to the counter stool.

“Good, that’s right. Sit down, and I’ll make you another coffee,” Serena chirped and headed to the coffee maker. “It’s a tradition that’s been followed since the paper first printed in the early 1700s. It was a way for people to find out the goings on in town for such things as bazaars, deaths and births, who was new to town and stuff like that.” She called over her shoulder as she stirred cream into Addie’s coffee. “Here, this will help.” She grinned and then looked at Marc still standing stiffly by the doorway. Her head motioned toward the stool beside Addie, and he plopped down beside her, laying his hat on the still damp counter top.

Addie turned, lifted it up, and placed it back in his hand. “Don’t ask,” she muttered and turned back to Serena. “Go on, this is fascinating,” she said between gritted teeth.

Serena looked briefly at Marc, took a gulp and continued. “Well, like I was saying. It’s always been a harmless piece in the paper that just kept the town folk in touch with what wasn’t headline news but still little things that helped connect them.”

“Yes,” Marc piped in, “like when old man Watterson broke his leg a few years ago and couldn’t get out to grocery shop or shovel the snow from his sidewalk. It brought the whole town together to help him until he recovered.”

Addie looked from Marc to Serena, her cheeks flushed.

Marc reached over and patted Addie’s hand. “I know it doesn’t help you today to see the good in what that column brings, but it’s important to the people in this town.”

She snatched her hand away. “Good, you call this good? How would you feel if you were accu—” A face in the window caught Addie’s eye, and she leapt to her feet. “Here we go again.” There was no mistaking Martha’s pudgy face, and her bakery flour stained hands shielding her eyes from the sunlight as she pressed her face against the glass. “She’s probably waiting for you to cuff me and haul me away, and I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to substantiate the gossip and keep it going.” Addie collapsed back into her seat, her head in her hands. “From day one, she never liked me.” She groaned. “This will fuel that even more, and I haven’t done anything to deserve it. Have I?” She glanced from Serena to Marc.

“Don’t be silly. It’s like I told you before, it’s jealousy. You are a direct descendant to the founding family of Greyborne Harbor and new in town and people are just, well . . . they’re just—”

“Leery,” Marc jumped in. “They only need to get to know you better, and then they’ll accept you.” His eyes softened and a slight smile curved the corner of his lips.

Addie shook her head and turned toward the window. “Do you really think they will ever give me a chance?” She pointed to the now three faces pushed up against the windowpane. Two other town merchants Addie recognized from her travels around the Harbor had joined Martha. “It looks like this gossip has made me a suspect, again.”

Marc stood up, adjusted his police cap on his head, placed his hands on his hips, and turned toward the window. The women dispersed. He took his cap off and at back down. “They won’t be bothering you again for awhile.” He sipped on the coffee Serena had given him.

Serena crossed her arms and leaned her back against the counter. “I just don’t get it. Miss Alice wrote that column for what, fifty years, and she never published something as inflammatory as this.”

Marc nodded in affirmation.

Addie sat upright. “So who is this Miss Newsy then?”

Marc shrugged and set his cup down. “She must be the new replacement. Miss Alice passed away about two months ago, she was ninety-two and not well, but the town was in such an uproar that they weren’t getting their daily dose of ‘what’s what,’ that Max Hunter, the editor in chief, was desperate to replace her. I guess he did.”

“But, he didn’t do a very good job of training this replacement did he?” Addie shook her head and pushed the paper way. “Didn’t he make it clear to this new person that libel is an offense? I’m certain the long-standing goodwill portrayed by the previous columnist is not being adhered to now.”

Marc rubbed his neck. “Look, it’s a gossip column, it was referred to as a rumor and you weren’t actually accused of anything, so the standard rules and laws don’t apply here. There is no actual legal violation.”

“Just a moral one that implies I had something to do with her disappearance.” Addie fumed, tapping her fingers on the counter.

“She’s right Marc.” Serena scowled. “This does cross the line. We need to find out who this Miss Newsy is and stop her before she does any more damage.”

“Okay, okay, against my better judgment I’ll stop in and see Max now and try and get a retraction printed, but don’t count on it. As it wasn’t front page news and just gossip, and there’s no law against that.”

“Yes,” Serena cleared her throat, “or Martha and her posse would be in prison for life by now.”

Addie nodded.

“Don’t worry, Addie,” he stood and placed his cap on his head, adjusting it so the chestnut-brown waves falling across his forehead were securely tucked under the brim, “we won’t let this go any further than it has and I’ll try to find out what’s behind it.”

“Just remind Max that even implying that I had something to do with June Winslow’s disappearance, without a shred of evidence, isn’t a bit of harmless town gossip and isn’t exactly in keeping with the long history of his newspaper.” Her jaw tightened.

“That’s right,” Serena shouted as Marc disappeared out the door. “Besides,” she pursed her mouth and looked at Addie, “it was a relative of yours who printed the first edition of that newspaper and Max better remember that before he goes messing with your family’s good name.”

Addie jumped at a sharp thwack against the window. She spun around and darted toward it, peering out in time to see an older model, green and white pick up speed off down the road. She looked at the two splatter marks on the glass and groaned at the sight of the thick, oozing drizzle running down the pane.

Serena stared at the innards of raw eggs running down the glass. “I’ll get the window cleaner and a mop.”