After the Red Inkers meeting, I went into the woods to get water for the birch tree. Surprisingly, Emerson didn’t want to come along even though I’d invited him this time. Instead, the tuxie decided to stay home curled up in his warm cat bed. Perhaps the last trip to the springs had taught him a lesson. I can’t say I was thrilled to have to go out on another cold night after dark to fetch water. It was only eight thirty in the evening, but it was as black as midnight. I knew it wasn’t even Christmas yet—that was still a couple days away—but a large part of me was already longing for spring. Winter in Western New York was long and deep. It wasn’t likely that we would see grass again until late February, and even after that snow melted, it could and most likely would snow again through the beginning of April.
Walking along the forest path, I was on edge. Every rustle of bare branches or snap of a fallen twig made me jump. I made it to the springs and back in fifteen minutes flat, which was the fastest time I had ever clocked. I didn’t stop to take in the beauty of the springs or look around for animal tracks like I normally would have. The man chasing me through the forest that morning of my wedding day had thoroughly spooked me.
I let out a deep breath when I walked through the garden gate. I opened the back door to the shop and cried when I saw a shadow in the kitchen. “Ahh!”
I hugged the full watering can to my chest. I wasn’t going to lose one drop of water, even if I was murdered in the process.
The overhead light came on and Rainwater stood in the middle of the kitchen in sweatpants and a T-shirt. His feet were bare, and he had a glass of water in his hand.
“David!” I cried.
“Who did you think it was?”
“I—I don’t know.”
He set his glass on the counter.
“I guess I’m still not used to having you around.”
He smiled. “Well, I haven’t made that any easier on you since I haven’t been around much since we got married.” He took the watering can from my vise-like grip, set it on the kitchen island, and gave me a hug.
I didn’t disagree with what he said.
“I wish that you waited until I was home to get water for the tree. I don’t know how I feel about you going into the forest at night.”
“David, it’s part of my job.”
He sighed. “I know, but I can go with you.”
I bit my tongue to keep myself from reminding him that he wasn’t around enough to go with me. The birch tree needed to be watered when it needed to be watered. I couldn’t just work around his schedule.
“Just with you being chased out of the forest the other morning,” he said. “It doesn’t feel safe.” He frowned.
I gave him a squeeze, and my heart softened a bit. I picked up my watering can. The sooner I watered the tree, the better it was for the shop.
Rainwater followed me into the main part of the store. “I have just about everything set up to get away for a few days. Wheaton is thrilled. I think he’s been waiting for his chance to be in charge. I won’t be surprised if I get back and learn that he was after my job.”
I glanced at him. “Are you worried about that?”
He laughed. “Not as long as Grandma Daisy is the mayor of Cascade Springs. I’d say my job is safe while she is in office.”
I knew he was right. Grandma Daisy had been a great champion of Rainwater being the chief of police in Cascade Springs even before I’d met him and before she’d been elected mayor.
“I’m just not sure Wheaton is the right officer for this job.” I poured the water into the ring of dirt around the birch tree. I shook the last few droplets from the can. Not a drop should be wasted.
“He’s a good cop, even if he has a sour personality,” Rainwater said, defending his choice.
Sour personality was putting it lightly. I pressed my lips together. I surely wouldn’t want Officer Wheaton to be the face of the department. No one would like the police in Cascade Springs if he were.
“You still think the case will be closed by Christmas Eve?” I held the empty watering can to my chest.
Rainwater sat on the arm of one of the couches. “It’s closed now. At least as far as the death is concerned. The only reason we’re sticking around is to find that book. It may have been stolen, and that’s still very much a crime.” He held out his arms, and I walked over to him. I was still in my winter coat, hat, gloves, and boots. I must have looked a fright. However, from the smile on Rainwater’s face, he didn’t think that in the least. He put his hands on my hips.
“Speaking of the book, I learned some new things today.” I went on to tell him about meeting Edmund, my visit to campus, and the conversation with Richard during the Red Inkers meeting. I bit my lower lip. “I suppose all that proves is how much Imogene wants her idea of being Thoreau’s great-great-great-great-granddaughter validated. We are no closer to knowing what happened to Roma along the river or the location of Imogene’s book.”
Rainwater nodded. “I think we already knew that about Imogene from meeting her.”
“Still, Richard can’t be the only person she asked for help. We know she asked Roma too of course, but I’m betting there were others. I’m going to check in with the rare bookstore in Camden tomorrow. I tried to call a few times today, but there was no answer. The store might be closed for Christmas week, but I’m going to check it out anyway. I’ll just go there tomorrow and knock on the door. My guess is that the bookstore owner is there even when the door is locked.”
“Can someone make a living off of being a rare book dealer?” Rainwater furrowed his brow.
I frowned. “If they have the right rare books that serious collectors want, they can. If they have books worth collecting, like this particular copy of Walden.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
I cocked my head. “David, if I show up with a cop, he’s not going to want to talk to me.”
“It’s in Camden. No one knows I’m a cop there. I’ll go undercover.” He wriggled his eyebrows at me. “I’ll blend in.”
I gave him a look. “You never blend in.” I smiled. “You’re just too good-looking.”
He grinned. “You think I’m handsome.”
“Very.”
His grin widened, and he kissed me.
Faulkner flapped his wings in the tree over our heads. “Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth. Give me truth!” he cawed.
“Why did you teach that crow Walden again?” Rainwater pulled away and asked.
“I didn’t,” I said.
The next morning, Grandma Daisy came into Charming Books. She took off her puffy winter coat and tossed it onto the coat tree with a flourish. “Violet, my dear, I have news!”
I was on my second of cup of coffee that morning even though it wasn’t yet nine o’clock. I hadn’t slept well the night before. My brain had been whirring over the missing Walden and where it could be. I finally gave up trying to sleep at four in the morning, left Rainwater in the bedroom, and went into the living room to read from Thoreau’s classic text. I’d hoped the shop’s essence would give me a new clue to what may have happened to Roma and the book. But I got nothing. It seemed the shop’s essence was as fast asleep as Rainwater, the cat, and the crow.
“News?” I asked around a yawn.
Grandma Daisy stopped smoothing her silky silver hair and squinted at me. “Did David keep you up late?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Grandma!”
“What? I’m over sixty, but I’m not dead.”
I rubbed my right eye to head off the twitching that was bound to start any minute. “I was up late reading.”
She walked across the room and sat on one of the sofas. “You know, dear granddaughter, I advocate for reading as much as any other bookstore owner, but that’s not going to give me great-grandchildren.”
“I’ve been married for four days,” I said.
“And you’re reading?” She sighed.
I suppressed a groan. “Can you just tell me what your news is?”
She clapped her hands. “Yes. The village hall will reopen in April.”
“That’s just a little over four months away.”
“I know! And it’s less than a year from the foundation collapse of the building. Everyone said I couldn’t do it, but I proved them wrong again.” She pumped her fist in the air.
“That’s amazing, Grandma Daisy. But I thought you still had a lot of money to raise before work on the village hall could begin?”
“Oh, I do. I can’t be lax on that, but Edmund said we have enough to make the building safe again, and work can begin the Monday after Christmas. I told him, ‘Let’s do it!’”
I gave her a hug. “I’m proud of you. You’ve worked so hard.”
She glanced at the birch tree. “I have. When you became the Caretaker of this shop, I felt obsolete. I had been the Caretaker for so long that I didn’t know what else to do. Like I said, I’m not dead yet, and I need a purpose. It’s good to have a project. Everyone needs something to work for. It keeps you young.”
“It’s certainly kept you young, Grandma.”
“What’s kept Grandma Daisy young?” Rainwater asked as he came down the spiral stairs that led to our apartment on the second floor.
“There’s my handsome grandson,” Grandma Daisy crowed. “What’s this about Violet staying up all night reading? I’m not sure that’s what a new wife is usually doing just days after her wedding.”
“What?” Rainwater asked, clearly confused by Grandma Daisy’s hints. “Violet is always reading, just like you.”
“Ignore her,” I told Rainwater. “Grandma Daisy just told me the village hall should reopen in April.”
“Not should, Violet. Will. It will open in April. Nothing can stop it.”
“Well, congratulations, Grandma Daisy,” Rainwater said. “If anyone can get that done, it’s you. No one in the village should have doubted you could get it done.”
“Thank you, grandson. Now talking to you as your mayor, where are you on this awful death of Roma Winterbourne? I need a report.” She stood up a little straighter and smoothed her jingle bell-clad scarf over her shoulders.
“It was ruled an accident,” Rainwater said.
Grandma Daisy waved her hand dismissively. “I know what the coroner said, but it can’t be the end of it. If I had to nominate anyone for most likely to be killed, it would be Roma Winterbourne. My guess is there is foul play afoot.”
“Why do you say that?” Rainwater stood a little straighter, now giving Grandma Daisy his full attention.
“Because she was always cheating someone. She cheated on grades all the way through college, and she cheated at work. I made a few calls to old college friends who I thought might know a thing or two about Roma.”
“And?” Rainwater asked.
“Well, she’s been able to keep herself from being arrested, but just barely every time. She has been involved in several scams in which she fleeced senior citizens.” Grandma Daisy smoothed her scarf again. “A friend of mine invested with Roma on some multi-level marketing scheme of hers. The scheme failed, and my friend never saw one red cent. Roma took her money and ran. When my friend called the main number to complain to corporate, they said they’d never heard of Roma Winterbourne and that Roma must have been impersonating one of their sales representatives. Can you even imagine?”
“Why didn’t your friend sue?” I asked.
“After she’d handed over the money to Roma, she couldn’t afford a lawyer. Also, she couldn’t sue the company because Roma had lied, and they weren’t involved at all. She had to reverse mortgage her house to live after that.”
“Poor woman,” I said, but I thought this was a good suspect too. “Where does your friend live? Would she have been in Cascade Springs on Saturday?”
Grandma Daisy perched herself on the stairs around the birch tree. “I know what you’re getting at, and my friend would make an excellent suspect to be sure, but she retired to Florida. She hasn’t been back to New York State in over twenty years. She left soon after Roma ripped her off. She lives in one of those planned senior communities down there. I wish she had reached out to me for help. I had no idea. She said she was too embarrassed to tell anyone what had happened. I believe the only reason she told me now was because Roma died.”
I sighed at the idea of a viable suspect lost.
“Well, that does coincide with what Imogene claimed.” I looked at Rainwater. “She said that Roma convinced her she could prove Imogene was the descendent of Thoreau if she lent her the book.”
“Which she did,” Rainwater said.
“Another scam.” Grandma Daisy clicked her tongue. “What I have learned in this life is that once a person is shady, they’re always shady. I don’t like to be such a naysayer like that, but it’s been proven time and again. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt and believe that they can change, but that’s just not realistic, especially when it comes to Roma.”
“So, like Imogene says,” I said. “She gave Roma the book, hoping Roma could prove her lineage. Meanwhile Roma was trying to sell the book to the highest bidder and make a quick seven thousand dollars.”
“We don’t know if she wanted to sell it to anyone else but you,” Rainwater said.
“We will soon. Grandma, can you watch the shop for the morning? David and I are making a stop at Tattered Spine, the rare bookshop in Camden. If she wanted to sell the book around Niagara Falls, that would have been the place to go.”
Grandma Daisy fluffed her jingle bell scarf. “Sure thing, but I didn’t even know Tattered Spine was still open. If it is, it must be some kind of miracle.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“Because Heath has been desperate to get out of the business for years. Before you moved back to the village, he tried to talk me into buying his entire inventory. I declined. First, I could never afford it. Many of his books are very expensive, much more than retail. Second, I had no place to store thousands of rare books, and third, that’s not what Charming Books is about.”
I wrinkled my brow. This was news to me. The few times I had spoken to Heathcliff Howell, the owner of Tattered Spine, he had said that business couldn’t be better. I realized even then that he might have been lying. Working any specialty retail store had its fair share of challenges. By the way that Heath had put it to me, though, it was a breeze.
“I guess we had better ask him about that,” Rainwater said.
“We should,” I agreed.