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“Though her physical heart turned out to be weak, her metaphorical heart was strong, brave, and true. She was fiercely sure this bookstore would do well and ignored all the naysayers, putting in the hard work it took to make it succeed. She was the best aunt my sister and I could ask for. We’ll miss her, and we won’t forget her.” Scott lowered his head.
As her brother finished speaking, Paige wiped away tears with a tissue and moved to give him a hug. She had been staring at all the mourners at the memorial to see if anyone looked capable of murder. She had a few ideas.
Beachside Books was packed with people. Most of the businesses in the area had closed down for a few hours, and the owners had shown up to pay their respects. Neal had helped Scott and Paige arrange as many chairs as possible in the small store space, and two foldable eight-foot tables stood shoved against the walls. Sarah had brought some cream-colored tablecloths for them, and the tables were piled high with food carried over from Just Baked.
“Thanks for representing us,” Paige whispered to her brother as she hugged him. Taffy had spoken too, but her eulogy was fairly awful. She had gone on and on about herself and her sister and only mentioned Aunt Nora briefly and superficially.
“Do you think it’s safe to eat the food?” Paige whispered to her brother.
“Of course. Why would you ask?”
“You know. Because of the muffin.” When Scott gave her a clueless expression, she explained, “Nora had one of Lucy’s muffins the morning she died. Maybe that’s where the poison came from.”
Scott shook his head. “I don’t think so. But you might want to steer clear of the coffee.”
“Why? Did the lab find something?” She felt a shiver run down her spine.
“I wasn’t going to tell you until after the service, but yeah. The drug was in the coffeepot and the mug.”
Paige’s eyes turned immediately to the empty spot behind the counter where the coffeepot had sat, burning the last of its contents that first morning she’d come in. Who else might have drunk from that pot? Neal? He hadn’t mentioned anything about being sick. Well, at least Lucy was off the list of suspects. Or at least near the bottom.
“So, is the captain going to open an official investigation?” She crossed her arms against the cold chill, although it was warm inside the shop with all the people milling about.
“He wants to keep the info under wraps for now since it could be related to the drug sting. I wasn’t even supposed to tell you this much, but I know how nosy you are.” His eyes scanned the crowd as he spoke. “Plus, it’s uncanny how you can read me like a book. I knew you’d get it out of me anyway. But don’t tell a soul—not even Sarah. We don’t want to let on that we know about the poisonous drug in Nora’s system.”
How was she expected to keep a thing like that a secret when the killer could be someone in this very room? Her eyes met Scott’s, but he just shook his head. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The crowd thinned as people finished eating, stopped by to pay their respects to Nora’s family members, and left. Soon, there were just twenty or so attendees remaining, mostly those who had been closest to the bookstore owner, like Lucy. Jay from the bike store stood chatting with Neal and munching on a cornbread muffin. She’d wait to get Neal alone and ask how he’d been feeling. Scott said she couldn’t tell anyone about the poison, but he didn’t say she couldn’t do some snooping around on her own. After all, she’d taken over Nora’s business. Did that mean she could be next?
A deep voice caught her attention. She looked toward it to find Horace Bellevue. It was shocking she’d missed seeing the gigantic man earlier. How had he found out about the memorial? As he stood gazing into the locked case containing the logbook, Paige felt a stab of discomfort. He sure was being persistent about that thing.
“Try some of this dip.” Taffy didn’t always honor personal space customs, and her cousin’s body and the platter of dip she held were suddenly uncomfortably close. Paige moved to step back but landed on Patty’s toes. Great, she was trapped.
The dip did look pretty good though. “Did Lucy make that?”
“Of course not!” Taffy sounded offended. “We made it ourselves with herbs the guys grew.”
“How is Bickle Brothers Nursery doing?” Paige had to remind herself it was true that her twin cousins had married twin brothers who owned a business together.
“Great now that the horrible misunderstanding with the cops has been all sorted out,” Patty answered. “You really should try this. We used dill and lemon balm from the nursery. It’s delicious.”
Taffy pushed the bowl of dip and crackers even further toward Paige’s nose. She grabbed a cracker and used it to scoop some dip, hoping her cousins would back up and give her some space if she agreed to taste it.
“Paige, don’t!” Her brother’s raised voice alarmed her, and the cracker tumbled out of her hand onto the floor. She looked around for a napkin as Taffy and Patty backed up to let Scott approach. “I heard Patty say it has lemon balm in it,” he explained. “You’re allergic to lemon balm, remember?”
No, but something in her brother’s eyes made her agree. She nodded. “I forgot. It’s not an herb I run into that often.” She shrugged at her cousins. “Sorry.”
The twins huffed and snorted as they moved away. Paige heard one say to the other, “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” and the other responded, “She always did love attention.”
“What was that about?” she asked when the twins were out of earshot.
“I don’t trust them. Who knows what they are really growing at that place.”
“You don’t think they could have something to do with the drug ring and Aunt Nora’s death, do you? I mean, it would make sense that they might have wanted her dead to collect the inheritance.” Her eyes grew bigger. “And now they may want me dead!”
“Don’t get too carried away,” Scott said as he cleaned up the dropped cracker and dip. “But remember I told you to trust no one.” He straightened up and craned his neck until his eyes connected with the twins, who were still out of earshot. “You know, it’s pretty amazing they aren’t embarrassed about what happened with the nursery last year.”
“Does Paige know about that?” Sarah approached, holding a plate piled so high with vegetables some teetered on the verge of toppling to the floor. She spoke around a mouthful of orange that must have been carrot. There was no dip on her plate.
“I remember Scott telling me something, but I can’t recall all the details.” Paige hadn’t always been able to keep up with everything her brother told her over the phone when she was in Italy. There had been so many other things to occupy her attention there.
“They got busted for growing weed,” Scott said softly. “Claimed they didn’t know what it was and somehow got off with a slap on the wrist.”
Sarah snorted. “Can you imagine? The judge really believed the Bickles thought they were growing some exotic vegetation or something?” She expertly rooted through the veggies on her plate without losing any to gravity until she snagged a cauliflower floret and began nibbling on it.
Paige’s imagination promptly shoved an image of a bunny over her sister-in-law’s face, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling.
“I guess they did have to pay a pretty hefty fine,” Scott added.
“Don’t forget the community service,” Sarah reminded him. “They looked pretty funny out on the highway cleaning up litter, bickering back and forth the entire time.”
Scott grinned and nodded. “I guess they thought they could get rich quick, but they didn’t get away with it.” His eyes scanned the room as he talked. Paige had gotten used to that a long time ago. Her brother was rarely out of cop mode when they were in public. He was always at least a tiny bit on edge, ready for anything.
Paige wanted to press Scott for more information on how the drug case was going but couldn’t with Sarah standing there. It didn’t matter since Horace Bellevue lumbered toward them. She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. Of course, she had no hope of making herself tall enough to meet his eyes, but she wanted to look as powerful and poised as she could.
“My condolences on the loss of your aunt,” he said. “I shoulda said that when I was here last time, but I do get fired up about things sometimes.”
“That’s okay. I understand. This is my brother and sister-in-law, Scott and Sarah Murphy. This is Horace Bellevue, rare book dealer?” She made the statement sound like a question as she realized she didn’t know exactly what Horace did or why he wanted Nora’s logbook so much.
The giant man practically glowed red as he bobbed his head. “Aye,” he said, and then, as though he’d read her mind, “Have ya given any more thought to sellin’ that there logbook? I’m willin’ to offer twenty-five hundred dollars, like I said yesterday.”
Paige shook her head. “I’m not selling it. I’m sorry.”
Horace winced. “I was afraid o’ that.”
“What’s so special about it?” she demanded. “I mean, why do you want it so much, and why do you think my aunt kept it in her personal collection instead of offering it for sale?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Paige saw Neal move closer, a small cup of punch in his hand. With the other hand, he rubbed the back of his head. Next to Horace, the college kid looked positively tiny. She moved her attention back to Horace.
The huge man puffed his cheeks, blew air out, and then raised his eyebrows. “How much do ya know about Comfort Cove’s history?”
Paige glanced at Scott, but he shrugged. “Not much, I guess,” she admitted.
“Well, back in the day—say, the late 1800s and early 1900s—this town was a popular port for ships travelin’ from New England to South America and back. Crews would rest here for a few days or a week and then move on. That’s where the name comes from, ya see? It was known as a place ships could come to wait out storms at sea or hide from pirate ships that sometimes lurked around the waterways. That wasn’t the only comfort to be had here, o’ course. That also came in the form of good food, hot baths, cheap whiskey, and eager women.”
The already red-skinned man flushed and ducked his head at Paige and Sarah. “Apologies, ma’ams. Anyway, eventually, evangelicals came in and cleaned up the town’s rougher side. Houston and Galveston took over as the big ports, and Comfort Cove receded into small town status—more of a tourist spot.” Horace paused and his chest heaved. Telling the story seemed to have left him out of breath as though he’d been running instead of talking. Paige waited patiently for him to regroup and continue.
“O’ course, you don’t have a town that’s frequented by sailors, pirates, and undesirables for a few decades without it producin’ a legend or two, and that there logbook is connected to one. Story goes that Captain Elias McDougall, way back in 1888, was sailin’ through a storm when his ship ran aground just outside the cove and started takin’ on water. All the crewmen jumped overboard and made it to safety, but the captain wouldn’t go until everyone else was off.”
Why did the name McDougall seem familiar? Paige tried to chase down the wisp of thought, but Horace was still talking, so she had to let it go and listen.
“At first, people thought he was an honorable captain, goin’ down with his ship. But then word was that he drowned because he was tryin’ to swim with a huge bag o’ gold coins in his hand. Made it close enough to the beach that the bag swept to shore, and a brothel owner found it. He was scared to spend any of it, thinkin’ the gold might be cursed, so he hid the coins somewhere. The bag had a logbook in it too, and that’s the very one there in your aunt’s locked-up case.”
As Paige followed Horace’s gaze toward the case, she realized Taffy, Patty, and Neal had all gathered close to listen to the towering man’s tale, and their eyes tracked toward the book too. Great. Now the cousins knew she had a valuable book in her possession.
Horace glanced up and around himself at the rest of the bookstore. “This very building was a brothel way back then. O’ course, it was sold in the 1920s to a group of Italians who transformed it into a speakeasy. They used to hide their booze and gamblin’ trade by sneakin’ through underground tunnels. Kept one step in front of the law. For a while, that is. Since no one’s seen the gold, everyone figures those guys found it. Part o’ the Italian mafia, it’s said.” He raised a bushy eyebrow. “Anyway, when your aunt bought this place in 1971 and started remodelin’ it, some people became interested in the building’s history and rooted around the public library and such until they uncovered the legend o’ Captain McDougall and the gold. They hounded Nora for a while, wonderin’ if she had found the stash, but she said she never did. She did confess that she’d found the captain’s logbook, but never would let anyone look in it.”
Scott moved next to Paige, drawing her attention. His gaze was uncharacteristically shifty—not nearly as focused and intense as usual. He studied his feet. She wondered what that was about.
Horace’s voice interrupted her thoughts again. “Anyway, somebody wrote a book about the history o’ Comfort Cove, but I’m after the logbook so I can learn more about the gold and write a better, more interestin’ one. Whataya say?”
“Are you sure you aren’t just hoping someone added a notation in the logbook with the whereabouts of those coins?” she asked playfully.
His eyes practically spit fire. Then he took a moment and seemed to regain his composure. “I heard you’re an author. Maybe we could make a deal and co-write somethin’?”
Paige smiled. “I have enough half-finished drafts on my writing desk right now,” she said. “I can’t take on another project. Thanks for the history lesson—I’m glad to know more about this building my aunt loved so much.”
She turned and walked away, leaving the gruff man fuming. Then, like a bolt of lightning, it occurred to Paige where she’d heard the name McDougall. From Aunt Nora! On her deathbed, she had asked Paige to take care of him. She must have meant the logbook.
A wave of relief flooded through her. She was so glad she had listened to Neal and not sold the book. A vision of her aunt holding it and talking to someone crossed her mind. In an instant, it was gone. Aunt Nora had been smiling. Paige found herself smiling too.
She looked up to watch Horace. He didn’t grumble or stomp off like before. He simply nodded slowly and wandered over to the food tables.
The next half hour was a blur of more people paying their respects and filing out of the bookstore. When most of them were finally gone, Paige sought out Neal to ask if he could close up for her. She wanted to go back to Scott and Sarah’s and relax for a while. The emotion of the day had taken a lot out of her.
Neal agreed and Paige started to walk away, but then she hesitated and turned back toward the young man. “You know, some of the books in the first edition section aren’t first editions,” she said, watching him closely. “Plus, there are more missing than the one you went to look for in the attic the other day. Do you know anything about that?”
Neal used his fingers as a comb, ruffling his messy hair even further. “No,” he stammered. “I don’t.”
“Did ya say you’re missin’ some rare books?” Horace, a plate of cookies in his hand, spoke from behind Neal.
Paige resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. The man really was nosy. “Yes, my aunt’s inventory isn’t adding up in a few instances,” she confirmed.
Horace pursed his lips. “I deal in lotsa rare books. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for ya. Maybe I’ll hear somethin’.”
“Thank you.” The jingle of the bells made Paige turn toward the front door. She was ready to smile, explain about the memorial, and ask the patron to return the following day. But the words caught in her throat and seemed to stifle her airflow when she saw the young man standing in the doorway beaming at her.
Marco.