The saddest moments in my young life:
- Saying goodbye to Mistress Sue.
- Finding out I’d been named after a scoundrel.
- Seeing Miss Josie’s face as she assessed the damage to her shop.
A few hours later, after showering and dressing at Mr. Nate’s apartment, Miss Josie and Mr. Nate went into the shop to check out the damage. It was extensive. The only books not affected were the ones inside the sealed vault. Everything else ended up being nearly a total loss.
Ms. Anne came to get Gracie as soon as she’d heard about what happened. Gracie kissed me on the lips and told me I was the best and bravest puppy she’d ever met. Jackson attempted to do the same, his kiss so slobbery and disgusting I had to wipe my face off afterward. He made inappropriate noises as he did it and tried to slip me the tongue. It grossed me out, but Jackson was being Jackson, and I knew he felt proud of me, too.
“What am I going to do?” asked Miss Josie. She had on a pair of Mr. Nate’s sweats and one of his First Impressions T-shirts. Both seemed miles too long for her, and she looked like a lost waif as she stared around the ruined remains of her shop.
Mr. Nate put an arm around her shoulders. “This is why you have insurance. It’ll be fine.” But the look in his eyes told me he worried, too.
We stayed the night at Mr. Nate’s. He and Miss Josie slept in his bed, but there was no hanky panky (as Jackson put it) going on. They both fell into a deep sleep, locked in each other’s arms. Romantic, and even better because they forgot to close the door to the bedroom, and we spied on them (aka watched over them) all night.
Mr. Nate’s apartment, ultra-modern, sleek, and expensive looking, was the exact opposite of Miss Josie’s. He did not own a single piece of antique furniture, and most of his books were either business related or sci-fi, except for the little leather-bound one with gold lettering Miss Josie had given him. Although it looked a bit out of place, it belonged there, the same way Miss Josie belonged with Mr. Nate.
How had I been so wrong? They could have been kissing and canoodling ages ago if I hadn’t interfered. I never should have stuck my snout where it didn’t belong. A mistake I hoped to soon rectify by doing what I could to make sure they ended up together forever.
Rocco came to Mr. Nate’s apartment, too. He’d hidden under the bed at Miss Josie’s after the incident, and it took us a while to get him out. He tried to act cool about it, but the poor cat seemed traumatized.
“There was so much smoke,” he said with a shudder. “I thought we were all going to die.”
“Did you see who threw the smoke bomb into the shop?” asked Jackson.
Rocco shook his head. “I was asleep. I never saw a thing.”
“I think I might know who did it,” I said, pausing for dramatic effect. “Mrs. Norris.”
“The old broad with the hats?” asked Jackson, his eyes bugging out in surprise. Well, maybe not in surprise. Jackson’s eyes tend to be buggy in general.
“Yes,” I said and explained about the feather.
“Not exactly proof,” said Rocco. “It could have come from her shop. It might be a coincidence.”
My gut told me otherwise. “I think it’s Mrs. Norris.”
“What reason would Mrs. Norris have to vandalize the shop?”
We got our answer the next day when the insurance agent came. Mr. Nate sat next to the cash register, going through piles of books to see if anything escaped damage from the sprinklers. Mr. William Lucas, from the Big Beaver Insurance Agency, walked around the shop, ticking off boxes on a clipboard and murmuring to himself as he took notes. He turned to Miss Josie, who’d managed to procure an outfit of her own which didn’t smell like smoke and gave her a tight smile.
“The good news is all damage to the building is covered, including both your shop and apartment.”
“And the bad news?” asked Miss Josie, wringing her hands. She had on a somber grey dress and a black cardigan. It suited her mood.
Mr. Lucas eyed her with a sympathetic gaze. “Your inventory is, unfortunately, not covered by your current policy.”
Miss Josie leaned against the counter. “What do you mean?”
He cleared his throat. “Insurance on something as valuable as books is a complicated process. Mr. Bartleby used a company called Regency for it. They’re based out of New York.”
“Why two companies?”
“Most experts agree you shouldn’t insure rare and valuable books under a homeowner’s or business insurance. A separate, fine arts policy is always a better idea. It’s more cost efficient as well. Books like yours are like artwork, you know.” He took a piece of paper out of his briefcase and adjusted the glasses on his nose. “According to our records, Mr. Bartleby’s policy with Regency was up to date. The only problem is Mr. Bartleby did not list you as the beneficiary.”
Miss Josie’s eyes shot to Mr. Nate. “Who did he list?”
“Mrs. Henrietta Norris.”
Miss Josie frowned, visibly confused. “How odd.”
“Mr. Bartleby should have made you the beneficiary when he left the shop to you.” Mr. Lucas took his glasses off his face and put them into the left breast pocket of his suit. “If Mrs. Norris is a friend of yours, perhaps you could explain the situation and ask for her help.”
Miss Josie’s face brightened. “You’re right. I’m sure Mrs. Norris will understand.”
After Mr. Lucas left, Miss Josie called Mrs. Norris. A few minutes later, the older lady arrived at the front door of the shop, accompanied by her boyfriend, Billy.
“Gracious, Josie.” She stared around the shop in horror, hands on her cheeks. “Whatever happened?”
“Someone threw a bunch of smoke bombs into the shop.” Miss Josie gazed at the damage, as if she still couldn’t believe it herself. I stood next to her, protectively, wanting to shield her from any further pain. “It activated the sprinkler system and ruined most of the inventory.”
“How horrible. Whoever would do such a thing?”
“I have no idea,” said Miss Josie. “But I need a favor from you, Mrs. Norris. Mr. Bartleby forgot to change the name on the insurance policy, and you’re listed as the beneficiary. Would you mind going to the notary with me to correct it?”
“Why, no.” Mrs. Norris spoke in her sweet little old lady voice, but I saw something cold and calculating in her eyes. “I will not.”
Miss Josie frowned in confusion. “Well, I can ask the notary to come here, if it’s easier for you.”
“No, dearie. You don’t understand. I won’t sign the policy over to you.” Mrs. Norris had on a pale green dress with a matching hat. She adjusted her gloves, a smile playing on her lips. “The money is mine. Benjamin wanted me to have it, and, frankly speaking, I deserve it. He was my lover for a long time. Before I met Billy, of course.”
Billy beamed at her, his expression positively gloating. As I stared at him, things clicked in my mind. His broad face. His big head. His barrel-shaped chest. The cold look in his eyes.
Billy was Charlie No Face. I mean, not the actual Charlie No Face, but the one who’d tried to break into the shop with pantyhose over his head.
How had I missed it? I inhaled deeply the way Uncle Clancy had taught me, and it confirmed my suspicions. I recognized his scent, and I recognized something else as well.
Note to self: Billy smelled like a criminal.
I should have picked up on it right away, but I’d been so focused on trying to be a gentleman that I ignored what my Capone-ish instincts told me.
And Mrs. Norris smelled like more than mint and mothballs. She looked like a sweet, little old lady, but she smelled like a criminal, too.
“This will destroy me,” said Miss Josie, coming out of her stupor. “It’ll put me out of business.”
“Tut, tut,” said Mrs. Norris, squeezing her hand. “You’re young. You’ll be fine. I need money to finance my retirement. Young Nate here was extremely generous when he purchased my shop, but I could easily live another ten or even twenty years. I require liquid assets. Cash. It’s fortunate Benjamin came through for me in the end.”
“You can’t do this,” said Mr. Nate, his hand balled into fists by his side. “It’s unethical.”
“Unethical? A signed and notarized insurance policy?” She pulled an envelope out of her small, green handbag. “Here it is. Clear as day. If you have any questions, call my lawyer.”
She and Billy turned to leave the shop just as Mrs. Steele arrived. She stiffened when she saw Mrs. Norris. “Henrietta,” she said, giving her a curt nod.
“Lucy.” Mrs. Norris inclined her head ever so slightly as she spoke. “Such a sad day. Poor Josephine lost nearly everything. You might be out of a job.”
She emphasized the word “job” strangely, and Mrs. Steele’s normally rosy cheeks paled. “I’m sure it’s not so bad.” Her eyes went to the soggy interior of the shop. The entire room smelled like stale smoke, and water still dripped from the ceiling in places. “Holy smokes.”
“Exactly,” said Mrs. Norris, with a sigh. “It’s tragic. Well, we’d better be off. Billy and I are heading to Florida tomorrow. Good luck, Josephine. I wish you well.”
They left and Miss Josie looked like someone had kicked her in the stomach. Mrs. Steele didn’t appear to be much better. When the phone rang, Mr. Nate answered it. After he spoke quietly for a few minutes, he hung up, a strange expression on his face.
“Officer Stahl called,” he said. “They questioned Cedric, who claimed to have been at a marriage counseling session with his wife at the time someone threw the smoke bombs into the shop. His alibi checked out. They have no other suspects.”
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “It keeps getting worse and worse.”
They watched Mrs. Norris and Billy cross the street arm in arm. The couple moved slowly, thanks to Mrs. Norris’s advanced age. As Mr. Nate stared at them, his mouth drew into a hard line.
“Don’t you think it’s odd she carries the insurance policy around in her purse? Rather random, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
He stared down at her. “Perhaps the police are right. Maybe Cedric isn’t the one who tossed the smoke bombs into the shop.”
Miss Josie blinked in surprise. “Wait…you think it was Mrs. Norris?”
He shrugged. “Or Billy. And I might have a way to prove it.”