A book to kill for, p.4
A Book to Kill For, page 4
“What? Who told you it was being closed?” Maggie was suddenly wide awake as if she’d just gotten a shot of caffeine injected directly into her heart.
“Well, I just assumed, since Mr. Whitfield’s son hired my carpenter, Bo Logan, to tear the inside of it down and that he had decided to sell it to Roger Hawes to be turned into a pawnshop,” Mrs. Peacock said, her eyes narrowing. “Have you heard something different?”
“I haven’t heard anything. But that’s because I’m the last to know everything,” Maggie huffed. “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Peacock, I have to get to the bookshop.”
“Well, let me know what’s happening so I know I’ll be able to count on rent. I am on a fixed income, you know,” Mrs. Peacock replied.
If Maggie had had a nickel for every time she’d heard Mrs. Peacock say she was on a fixed income, she’d have been able to rent the big house for more than a year.
“Yeah, Mrs. Peacock. I’ll do that. I’m sorry, I have to get to work.” Maggie smiled and shut the door as Mrs. Peacock stepped off the tiny porch and walked toward the big house in fuzzy slippers that click-clacked along the sidewalk.
Without wasting any time, Maggie jumped into the shower, washed, and dressed in her most sensible black slacks and a pink cardigan. Before she hurried out the door, she dabbed on a little of the perfume she usually saved for special occasions and quickly snapped on a vintage pearl pin that she’d found at a thrift store for a few dollars. She had no time to do her hair and quickly piled it on top of her head in a tight bun.
As she hurried to her car, she saw the sky was the same dreary gray it had been for the past few days. It matched her mood.
Without a drop of coffee or anything in her stomach, she sped to the bookshop. She gasped when she saw the front door wide open, with men with tool belts and bulky boots carrying planks of wood inside. She parked the car almost up on the curb and marched into the place as if she was going to war.
“Margaret, I’m glad you’re here,” Joshua said as soon as he saw her walk in.
A fresh hole had been knocked in the wall that, for years, had separated the bookshop from the empty furniture storefront next door.
“What are you doing? Don’t you realize that some of these books are valuable? All this dust and dirt…or are you just planning on throwing them all away?” Maggie demanded without preamble.
“Well, good morning to you,” Joshua said.
“Am I fired?” Maggie asked.
“What?”
“Am I fired? Or are you just going to torture me until I quit so you don’t have to pay unemployment?” Maggie snapped.
“No, you aren’t fired. But if you want to quit then quit,” Joshua replied.
“Of course I don’t want to quit. I loved this job and the bookstore. But you’ve just come busting in here like a tornado, and it looks like…you’ve made a real mess of things.”
Maggie’s voice and temper lowered when she looked into Joshua’s face. She didn’t dare look anywhere else, as he was absolutely delicious in his tool belt and jeans. She shook her head to dispel the image and instead looked into his hazel eyes. She felt the tension leave her face and quickly turned to examine the big hole in the wall.
“I’m not getting rid of the bookstore,” Joshua said.
“You’re not? I can still work here?” Maggie blurted without thinking.
“Yeah,” Joshua said with a smile. “I don’t really like to read.”
She recoiled as if Joshua had just revealed he had a touch of Ebola. Didn’t like to read? How could he be Alexander Whitfield’s son and not like to read?
“You don’t?” Again, the words just fell out.
“No. I’d rather watch a movie.” He chuckled.
Maggie squared her shoulders as if she were getting ready to slap Joshua across the face for saying something so offensive.
“But I know that a bookstore can be a good business if you know how to run it. My dad, God bless him, had good intentions. But he wasn’t a good businessman.”
“Your father was an extremely intelligent man. He kept this place open, and there wasn’t a book on the planet he hadn’t heard of. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Library of Congress could learn a thing or two from him. And his knowledge of old books was…” Maggie defended her old boss but stopped speaking when Joshua put up his hand.
“Yes, he knew a lot about old books. But he didn’t know how to sell them. And if he did, for one reason or another, he wouldn’t. It was almost like he didn’t want to make any money.” Joshua shook his head. “Well, that is why I need your help. I need you to help me rearrange the bookstore so we can bring in some new inventory.”
“What?”
“Yeah, we need to get some of the popular stuff in the windows to attract more customers.” Joshua smiled.
“Popular stuff?” Maggie’s stomach twisted. “To get more customers?”
“Yeah, you know, like that series with the vampire teenagers or that one with the weirdo lawyer who has a dungeon in his house and his secretary likes it. You know what I’m talking about?” Joshua nodded.
“Yeah, you’re talking about filling your dad’s store with garbage,” Maggie blurted then swallowed hard.
“It might be garbage, but it’s what people want to read. I’m not here to defend or deny them their poison. I’m just going to put it out there, and hopefully they’ll get it from us instead of Amazon.” Joshua smiled. “And once we get all the new inventory, people can enjoy a hot cup of coffee or tea next door. Or, if they’d prefer to come at night, wine or beer after five.”
“You’re kidding,” Maggie huffed.
“No. That’s what I’m doing. Bo, that big guy over there, he’s got the blueprints, and we should have the whole place completed in less than two weeks.” Joshua clicked his tongue and winked at Maggie as he pointed to a man who looked like a bear in a flannel shirt. He waved to Maggie, but she quickly looked away, her cheeks blazing.
“If people want coffee, they can just go to Tammy’s Bakery down the street,” Maggie said, hoping to discourage Joshua’s plans. But the twinkle in his eyes told her she was too late.
“Aha. See, I already made a deal with her that I’d sell her pastries here if she would be willing to make me a few exclusives just for the coffee shop.” Joshua rocked on his heels.
“When do I have to order these stupid trendy books? And what about your father’s library?” Maggie was sure she was going to either cry or throw up.
“There will be room for both. But the old stuff will go in the back. I want at least the front half of the store filled with the new stuff. I’ll have a list for you by tomorrow. Today, maybe you could start moving some of the books to the back shelves. Get rid of anything that you don’t think is worth keeping,” Joshua said.
He went to talk to Bo. She stood there with her mouth open.
Get rid of anything that you don’t think is worth keeping. The words echoed in her head as if he’d just told her there was a nest of wasps he expected her to stick her hand in. As long as she was in charge of this task, there wouldn’t be a single book thrown away. She’d find a place for everything, even if she had to hide some of them to save them from such a fate.
Chapter 6
A couple of days had gone by, and Maggie had to admit she was enjoying going through all the old books. And true to the promise she had made to herself, not a single book was tossed away. Carefully, she emptied one shelf of books only to reshelve them behind another row. No one would know they were there but her, and that was okay, since she was the only one who would return to read them.
With a pit in her stomach, she placed an order with the distributor Joshua had contacted and ordered the contemporary books he’d requested. In between her tasks, she found herself peeking in Joshua’s direction, watching him help hold a stud in place or use a nail gun. Once, she watched as he balanced on top of a ladder and was about to screw something into the ceiling when Bo came charging out of nowhere.
“Whoa! Whoa! Don’t touch that!” Bo shouted. “Did you turn the electricity off?”
“Uh, no,” Joshua admitted.
“Please, get down off the ladder, Josh.” Bo shook his head. “Can you leave the electrical work for us licensed electricians?”
“Just trying to help,” Joshua said as he climbed down.
“Yeah, getting electrocuted is not helping,” Bo replied and clapped Joshua on the back as soon as his feet were on the ground.
Maggie chuckled a little but then went back to work. She came across a couple of copies of old books she’d never seen before. Their pages were like tracing paper, and they were musty and powdered with dust, making her sneeze.
“Bless you,” Joshua called.
Maggie felt butterflies take off inside her chest. What was wrong with her? Mr. Whitfield had said “bless you” every time she sneezed, and she didn’t get all goofy inside.
“Thank you,” she muttered as she peeked from behind the bookshelf.
Joshua hadn’t looked in her direction. He probably didn’t even know it was her who’d sneezed. But as she watched him leaning on the new counter next to the new doorway that, just a few days ago, had been nothing more than a hole in the wall, she wondered if he had a girlfriend.
Where did that thought come from? Maggie, get a hold of yourself, she thought and shook her head. A guy like him probably had more than one girlfriend. And even if he didn’t, he would have no interest in a girl who read.
When the boxes of new books arrived, Maggie stood and stared at them as if they were a gift of fruitcake at Christmastime.
“Are those the books?” Joshua asked.
Maggie was sure he was inquiring just to tease her. He knew how she felt about them. This was just his way of reminding her that he was the boss. And that he was still handsome.
“Yes,” she muttered.
“Okay. I was going to get one of the girls from the beauty-supply store down the street to display them in the windows. They’ve got great displays and…” Joshua started.
“Uh, no,” Maggie replied. “It will look nice. I promise.”
Joshua looked at Maggie for a minute with a kind smile on his face. “Okay. I just thought you might be too busy clearing away the other titles that…”
“No. If your dad were here, I’d make it look nice for him. I just don’t like…never mind.” Maggie shook her head.
“Don’t like what?”
“I don’t like that people will see what I’m doing in the window. I wish it could be more like a surprise.” She pushed her glasses up and pinched her lips together.
“I’ve got an idea.” Joshua clomped to the back of the store and upstairs. Within seconds, he returned with three big sheets. “I can tack these across the window for you. A big reveal for the grand opening might be nice.”
Maggie almost smiled and said a sincere “thank you” before she caught herself. Instead, she just nodded as he stapled the sheets in place. Part of her would have liked to keep them up permanently. She didn’t want anyone looking in or seeing new things then coming in to disturb her and make small talk about the rain that was on its way. The forecast gave the people of Fair Haven one respite from the gray and drizzle. That was today. Starting tonight, rain was predicted for the next week.
“If you need anything else, let me know. I’m going to get back to work,” Joshua said.
Maggie just nodded as she looked around the dusty window ledge. The very idea that one of those Barbies from the beauty-supply shop had been about to manhandle these books was enough to make her grind her teeth. They were probably just Joshua’s type. How deep could they get when they talked about mascara and lip gloss all day?
First she set to cleaning. Then she scrounged the bookstore for Mr. Whitfield’s old trinkets and tables. She moved things around and made a quaint little space, but it needed one more thing: the highbacked leather chair. Quietly, she slipped upstairs. The door was unlocked. With a little maneuvering, she managed to get the chair halfway down the steps before she heard the argument.
“Bo, now isn’t the time to talk about this. We have a contract,” Joshua said.
“Josh, I told you this was part-time until something came up. My crew has been hired for a real job. I can’t tell them I’m turning it down because I am doing a favor for your old man,” Bo replied. “The holidays are coming up. We need the money. All my guys do.”
“Look, once the place is up and running, I can give you more. But the only reason I hired you in the first place was because you said you’d give me a deal. If I knew you were going to cut and run, I’d have sold the building outright,” Joshua replied.
Sell the place outright? Maggie held her breath and listened.
“I’m sorry, Josh. But Roger says he can…”
“Oh, Roger Hawes? I should have known he’d have work for you right about now. The guy hasn’t bought or sold anything in six months, but now, because I won’t hand over my dad’s business, he’s going to hire every decent crew in Fair Haven out from under me,” Joshua replied.
“Your dealings with Roger are none of my business. All I know is he pays on time and his checks don’t bounce. I’m sorry, Josh,” Bo said.
“This is not how business is supposed to be done, Bo. You know it. Deep down, you know it. And I won’t forget this,” Joshua said.
Maggie heard Joshua heading in her direction, so she quickly pretended to struggle with the chair as if she hadn’t been listening at all.
“What are you doing?” He chuckled when he saw her.
“I need this for the window,” she huffed.
“Well, where am I supposed to sit?”
“There’s the davenport,” Maggie offered.
“If I don’t come home to find someone sleeping on it,” he replied before taking the chair from her and carrying it the rest of the way down the stairs.
Maggie didn’t let on that she’d heard the conversation between him and Bo. She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, once he put the chair by the window, he turned around and stomped off upstairs, slamming the door behind him.
Bo and his men were still working when five o’clock rolled around. Joshua had not come down from the upstairs apartment. Maggie decided to hurry home before the rain started. She’d no sooner set foot in her home than a loud crack of thunder ushered in the rain.
“Made it this time,” she sighed. She walked over to the thermostat and turned the heat up then flipped on the lights. Her kitchen was a cozy place, with a teakettle always at the ready on the stove. Her evening was quiet, aside from the occasional clap of thunder.
Chapter 7
That night, Maggie couldn’t sleep. Nothing particularly pressing kept her awake. After all, she didn’t have anything to worry about if Joshua was going to keep her on in the bookshop. Sure, she’d have to peddle mediocre fiction and nonfiction alike. To her, it was like selling cigarettes to teenagers. But that was part of making a business work. The customer was always right; Mr. Whitfield had said that. Of course, the few customers he’d had were people who appreciated the fine work that went into a first copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles. They wouldn’t have any desire to read the latest tripe that some big-city paper included on its lists.
“Oh, why am I worrying about it?” she grumbled. She flung the blankets aside and swung her legs off the bed. The clock read 4:59. She was usually up by five thirty anyway. That way, she could read a couple chapters from the books Mr. Whitfield had assigned to her, and they could discuss them throughout the day. She was enjoying The Streets of Laredo, but her mind kept drifting. So rather than torture herself this morning, she decided to get up, get dressed, eat something quickly, and just go to work. The window was coming along much better than she’d expected, and having it finished might cheer up Joshua after his argument with Bo.
“Why do you care if he’s cheered up?” she muttered to herself as she shuffled to the bathroom.
Maggie’s home was decorated in what could only be called secondhand-store chic. It boasted lots of flowers on slipcovers, tablecloths, and cheap paintings she’d picked up over the years. She continued to talk to herself as she showered then got dressed in plain tan pants with a green top. She left her hair in a long ponytail down her back. She shoved a peanut-butter sandwich into her mouth and quickly brewed a single cup of coffee she had to balance in a regular cup due to her forgetfulness. Had it not been raining, she might have gone on a hunt to find her old to-go cup. But the gray day and steady drizzle put the kibosh on that plan. With Mr. Whitfield’s umbrella at the ready, she stepped outside.
Thanks to a mechanism that operated like a well-oiled machine, Maggie was able to slide the umbrella open with ease. She smiled, lifted it over her head, and almost skipped to her car. She said a silent thank-you to Mr. Whitfield.
But when she arrived at the bookshop, something didn’t look right. First of all, the front door was wide open.
Immediately, Maggie assumed that Joshua, in his infinite wisdom, had left the door open in order to haul something in. As she feared, the carpet at the entrance was soaked.
“Great,” she muttered. There was a plastic runner behind the counter specifically for the rainy days, which did have a tendency to pile one on top of another at times. “But far be it from the new boss to ask any questions. Nope, just leave the door open and let everything get wet.” She shook her head as she folded the umbrella with ease and stepped inside.
With her temper rising, she stomped over to the counter, where she dropped her purse and umbrella before grabbing the runner. It was rolled up tightly and wedged into the corner behind a ream of paper and a couple of boxes of paper receipt rolls and pens.
With her mind racing with the myriad of things she was going to scold Joshua about, she almost walked past the body on the floor.
As if her shirt had snagged on a nail, she stopped and eased back to take another look. It had to be just a trick of the light. There wasn’t a body there. There were boots, attached to a pair of legs that led up to a torso. Maggie froze as her eyes met the dead stare of Bo Logan.
