A Page Marked for Murder Page 3
“I’m fine,” Martha said, waving her tissue in the air and drawing herself up stiffly. She rose to her feet. “I think I have everything Gloria will need in the hospital. We should go.”
The knot in Addie’s stomach felt more like a sinking rock now. “Okay.” Her gaze rested on a book lying open on the nightstand. “Should we take that? She might enjoy reading while she recovers.”
“Nah, she’s too doped up right now, and if she has surgery, she’ll be even worse for a while. Pretty sure if that happens, she’ll send me back with another list next week anyway, so I’ll get it then.”
“Okay, you know her best.” Addie’s gaze remained on the book as she moved closer to the night table. “Say, isn’t that a copy of The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett?”
Martha glanced at it. “Yeah, it’s Paige’s. She loaned it to her when Gloria told her it was the book your little club was reviewing this month.”
Addie caressed the green cloth, her fingers tracing over the gilt title and illustration on the upper board of the cover. She flipped open the title page, and her breath caught in her throat. “You say this is Paige’s copy?”
“Yes,” Martha said, hauling a small suitcase off the bed. “Why?”
“Does Paige know it’s a 1911 first edition?”
“I don’t know. It’s just some old book her useless father left her when he ran away from us when she was about three.”
“Martha”—Addie snapped her mouth shut and stared at the woman—“this old book is worth about twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“What?” Martha’s hand flew to her chest.
Addie feared the older woman would keel over right then and there.
Chapter Three
“Jeez Louise!” Martha snapped off her phone and jammed the car key into the ignition. “My useless assistant, Betty, has really gone and done it this time,” Martha ranted as she pulled away from the curb in front of Gloria’s house. “If I had a nickel for every time—”
“Betty? I thought your assistant baker was Glenda?”
“What? No, she was three assistants ago. Keep up, girl.” Martha snorted a short, harsh laugh and turned onto Main Street. “And it seems this one’s going to make number four, as in past tense.”
“Why? What happened?”
“She’s gone and started a fire in one of the ovens. Can you believe that?”
“Oh no, is the fire department there? What about Paige and the bookstore—”
“Don’t worry. Betty said she put it out, but the place is filled with smoke. I’ll have to drop you off at the hospital and get back there to see what damage that fool caused this time.”
“This time?”
“Yeah, it’s not her first catastrophe but definitely the last one.” Martha stopped in front of the hospital entrance. “I’ll take Pippi to Paige at the bookstore, and you go in and give Gloria her suitcase. You’re going to have to hoof it back though, I’m afraid.”
Addie, still trying to digest the flurry of information Martha had thrown at her, handed the small dog to Martha, got out, grabbed the suitcase from the back seat, and stood flabbergasted on the sidewalk as Martha pulled away. “Well then. That was interesting,” she muttered, and entered through the hospital’s main door. She located Gloria still in the emergency department, apparently waiting for a room upstairs, sound asleep in one of the side cubicles. Addie searched for a nurse to leave the bag with, but they all appeared to be busy with other patients, and Simon was nowhere in sight. She hesitated. Should she or shouldn’t she just leave the bag unattended at Gloria’s bedside?
Addie shook her head. What bizarre alternative universe had she woken up in this morning, because nothing about today resembled normal. Wherever it was, it was affecting her ability to make even the most minor decisions. How on earth had she let Martha persuade her to foster a dog? It’s not that Addie disliked animals, but she had never had a pet in her entire life, not even a goldfish. Knowing she would be responsible for another life—well, frankly, it terrified her. Now here she was unable to decide what she should do or not do about a stupid suitcase.
She dropped the bag on the bedside chair and tiptoed away from Gloria’s cubicle with the hope of not waking her. There was no way she could hide how overwhelmed she felt. That alone would give Gloria more cause to worry. No, Pippi and she would be fine. Somehow she’d find a way to make it work, and that was the mantra she repeated to herself as she headed to the park behind the hospital. Maybe the walk to her shop was just the thing she needed to help her regain focus and come back to earth.
Once outside under the first crystal-blue sky Greyborne Harbor had seen in weeks, her brain fog began to lift. Her jaunt through the park seemed to be the best decision she had made so far today even though it was, once again, made by Martha. However, it was exactly what she needed. Not only did it help clear her head, but it also allowed her a few minutes to search for Gloria’s missing keys. No doubt finding those would help ease the poor woman’s mind. She had enough other stuff to worry about.
Much to Addie’s surprise, the park was buzzing with activity. The decorating committee was hard at work dismantling the Christmas displays and exchanging them for festival decorations, which included banners depicting past winning sculptures and winter carnival activities. The thirty or so teams of two sculptors were also setting up their assigned carving stations. They would guard these posts until after the final judging of the competition on Sunday evening when the winner in each category—novice, intermediate, and master sculptor—would be announced. These seasoned carvers took their craft very seriously, and none would risk vandalism or jealous sabotage of their creations. At this point, there were only blocks of ice, many of which were draped in tarps to protect them from the sun’s heating rays. But soon the competition would officially begin, and that was when the magic of true artistry would take shape.
Addie sidestepped a group of volunteers deep in discussion of which lights and decorations should remain around the gazebo eaves for the ice festival. The sun’s reflection off the glistening snow had Addie wondering where she had left her sunglasses as she shaded her eyes and squinted up to the top of a ladder.
“Hi, Cliff.” She waved to Gloria’s most diehard committee volunteer.
“Hi, Addie,” he called, allowing a Christmas banner to fall through his hands and drop to the ground, sending up a flurry of snowflakes in its wake. “How’s Gloria doing?” he asked as he descended to the bottom.
“She’s okay and resting right now.”
“What about her little doggy? Is she okay?”
“Yeah, Pippi’s just fine. I have her. Say, she wasn’t up on the ladder with Gloria when it happened, was she?”
“No, Gloria leaves her at the bottom in her basket when she has to go up.”
“I guess that’s something to be thankful for.”
“Except that little basket was crushed like a pancake underneath Gloria. I’ve been just sick thinking about what could have happened.”
“It sounds like Pippi escaped it just in time.”
Cliff nodded. “Pretty sure there were only seconds between the scream and the thud.”
“Wow, in all the confusion around her, the poor little thing must have panicked. At least she managed to remember that I’ve walked her in the park and how to get to my store from here because she came running right to me.”
“That’s a relief, because that little dog is Gloria’s whole life, and I don’t know how she’d handle it if something ever happened to her, especially if she was responsible,” Cliff said, folding the ladder legs together. “Well, I guess I should see what those”—he jerked his head toward the group still in discussion—“have decided to do about the gazebo. No one has the vision Gloria has, and everyone’s running around like chickens with no heads right now.” He hoisted the ladder under his arm and started toward them.
“Wait, Cliff,” Addie called. “Did you happen to find Gloria’s keys after the accident? They seem to have dro
pped out of her pocket.”
He shook his head. “Can’t say as I did, but I wasn’t the first on the scene. I was over on the other side of the gazebo when I heard the scream and the thump. By the time I got around here, there was a crowd surrounding her.” He shrugged.
“Maybe someone picked them up for her?”
“Maybe. I’ll ask around and keep my eyes open though.”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
“Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho, it’s back to work I go!” he sang as he waved over his shoulder and then plunked the ladder down in front of the group of volunteers.
Addie’s gaze dropped to the trampled snow piles where the indentations of the feet of the ladder were and scanned the snow. She kicked up clumps here and there, gradually enlarging her search circle until she wasn’t far from the utility shed behind the library, and she still found nothing.
Not far from her was the taller man in the navy-blue jacket from Martha’s Bakery talking to a dark-haired man in a trim-cut black trench coat. With the crowd of people milling around the park today, Addie normally wouldn’t have thought twice about them, but she heard their raised voices over the din of chatter behind her. They definitely drew her attention. She put her money on Trench Coat Guy being one of the organizers because she was certain she had seen him before, and Bakery Man was most likely a disgruntled contestant.
She shrugged and made a mental note to ask Martha who Ken left the bakery with this morning. Their rapid-fire discussion piqued her curiosity, and she wanted to know if her instincts were right, or if she had lost those in the parallel universe she was floating through today. She shoved her hands in her pockets and headed toward the park entrance across the road from her shop.
When she got to the big maple tree by the side entrance, her heart lurched at the sight of Old Bill wearing what was obviously a charity donation navy-blue parka, at least two sizes too big for his meager frame, combing through a trash can. He was a local homeless man, and someone whom Addie had gotten to know a little as he often frequented the bin behind Martha’s shop. However, the last time she had run into him, he told her not to worry anymore, that he had gotten a bed for the winter at one of the shelters. Yet, here he was, armpit deep into a trash can again. Her heart ached.
“Good afternoon, Bill.” She waved. “I thought you were living at the church shelter down in the harbor area now?”
Bill stopped and stared at her over the rim of the trash can. His eyes peered out of his red-splotched, weather-etched face. “Afternoon, Miss Addie.” He nervously pulled his arm out of the bin, stood upright, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. A sheepish look crossed his face. “Yeah, it’s just that, well . . .”
“I hope you understand that I was serious when I told you to come to me when you’re hungry, and I’ll make sure—”
“Oh, I know. You and Miss Martha have both been good to me. It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s just that—” He shuffled his oversize thrift store boots in the snow. “It’s that during a festival, there’s always good pick’ns, and well . . .” A shy smile pulled at the corners of his winter-chapped lips. “I like festival food, too.”
His weathered crinkles vanished, and Addie had a glimpse at the little boy he once was who was filled with hopes and dreams. “Tell you what. Anything you find in there today”—her eyes darted down at the trash can then back up to his—“has probably been in there since New Year’s Eve. So when the food fair booths start to open up later tonight, why don’t you come find me, and I’ll make sure you get some fresh festival food?”
A shy smile that reached his smoky-blue eyes touched the corners of his mouth. “Sure thing, Miss Addie. See you later.” He tugged his coat around his thin body and shuffled off toward the library parking lot.
Addie’s heart was lighter, but she knew that wouldn’t be the last trash can he would dip his arm into today. That was a sad part of life on the streets, and she hated everything about it. Since she had become more accepted in her new community, perhaps it was time she also picked up where her great-aunt Anita’s legacy left off and become more involved in volunteering. She smiled and glanced back at Bill. What better way than to work with the homeless? After this weekend was through, she would go down to the shelter and offer her services. Now, this was a New Year’s resolution she liked better than her original one of drinking less coffee and getting more exercise. She chuckled and dashed across the street.
She popped her head into Martha’s Bakery to ask about the smoke damage. Although it wasn’t too bad, Martha informed her that she would have to remain closed the next day for cleaning. Addie looked around for signs of Betty’s body, because by the fiery look in Martha’s eyes, it wouldn’t surprise her if Martha meant cleaning up a murder scene. Once Addie was certain that no dead bodies were stashed on the premises, she headed next door to her shop, the overhead doorbells ringing out her arrival.
Paige looked up from the books she was sorting on the counter and grinned. “I take it we have a new addition to the team.”
“What do you mean?” Addie wiggled out of her red wool coat and placed it on the counter.
“I mean”—Paige dropped down behind the counter and stood back up, cradling a squirming Pippi in her arms—“our new mascot.”
Addie shook her head and dropped a coffee pod into the one-cup machine. “At least she’ll be more dependable than the other token employee we have.”
Paige let out a half-laugh, half-snorty thing and hoisted the dog over the counter to Addie. “Speaking of her, did you happen to run into her in the park?” Paige waved away Addie’s questioning glance. “I saw you come out of the park, so I was just wondering.”
Addie shook her head and secured Pippi under her one arm as she stirred cream into her cup of fresh brew. “No, is that where she went?”
“I have no idea. She just said she was going to run out and grab us both a tea, and she never came back.”
Addie walked over to the window, cuddling Pippi closer as she took a sip from her cup. When a black BMW sedan pulled up in front of the shop, her wayward cousin got out and dashed over the curb to the front door. Addie turned and glared at the tall, lanky, auburn-haired woman who rushed in to the greeting of bells.
“Hi, Cuz.” Kalea waved over her shoulder as she click-ity-clacked her high-heeled shoes—Addie could have sworn she was wearing flats when they drove into work together this morning—across the wooden floorboards to the back room. “I’m just going to pick something up, and then I have to go back out.”
Addie’s mouth gaped. She glanced over at Paige, whose mouth was as open as Addie’s. A moment later, her cousin and roommate flounced back toward them. “I won’t be back today and probably won’t be home tonight. So don’t wait up. Tootles.” She waved and sauntered out the door.
“Wait, Kalea, we have to talk!” Addie dashed to the door, but she was too late. Trench Coat Man from the park held the car door open, and Kalea slipped into the passenger seat. “Paige, do you know who that guy is?”
Paige came to her side and glanced out. “I don’t know who he is, but it’s the same guy that’s been picking her up all week.”
That’s why he looks familiar. “Funny, she’s never mentioned him. Kind of unusual, don’t you think?” She glanced sideways at Paige.
“Especially for her. She’s always talking about the latest man in her life.”
“Yeah, she is. I wonder what makes him so different.” Addie’s eyes narrowed as she watched the BMW pull out into traffic.
Chapter Four
Addie waved good-bye to Paige through the glass window of the front door and flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and caught a glimpse of Cliff hurrying across the street from the park, making a beeline directly to the front door of Beyond the Page. His ruddy face brightened with an ear-to-ear grin when he spotted Addie in the door-window. “You look like a man on a mission,” she said, chuckling as she opened the door.
“Take your time.”
“I’m okay now.” He stood upright, patting his chest, tugged off his gloves, and fished around in his jacket pocket. “Here.” He held out a key ring with a little dog charm dangling from the brass clip. “I found Gloria’s keys.”
Addie’s eyes widened. “Where? I searched the entire area around where she took her fall and couldn’t find them.”
“They were right where the foot of the ladder must have been.”
“Really?” She turned them over in her hand, staring at them unbelievingly. “But I looked.”
“So did I, a few times, after you mentioned it,” he puffed. “But the last time, I kicked over a clump of snow, and there they were. I’m thinking they just got trampled down in all the commotion and buried deeper than I’d been looking.”
“Yes, that must be it.” Addie eyed the keys warily. “Well, thanks, Cliff. I know Gloria will be relieved. One less thing for her to worry about.”
“I guess I better get back. We’re almost done, but there are a few final touches to add on a couple of the booths.” He pulled his gloves back on and headed across the street.
“Thanks again,” Addie called as she closed the door. Shuddering, she watched him disappear into the park obscured in the early dusk of winter. Cliff was getting on in years, and if he had medical issues, she hoped he had the sense to know when to say enough was enough and head home. However, knowing him, he would be the last man standing when younger, healthier volunteers called it a day. He adored Gloria, their volunteer coordinator, and would never think of leaving the work half done.
“Well, my little friend,” she said as she turned to the squirming fur ball at her feet, “I think you definitely know when to call it a day, don’t you?” She grinned and scooped Pippi up into her arms. “Should we take you for a walk and then go meet Serena and Zach and see what’s going on across the road?”