The Athenaeum occupied about four thousand square feet, and there were thousands and thousands of books lining the shelves. I could easily spend two hours here—and often had—such was the wealth of the printed word available. I headed for the mystery section, where I usually started. I had been here the previous Saturday, so there might not be anything new in. It never hurt to look, though.
I was checking the Hs for three of my favorites—Haines, Harris, and Hart—when I heard a voice behind me.
“Good morning, Diesel. What a beautiful boy you are.”
Diesel tugged at the leash, and I let him go as I turned to greet Jordan.
“Good morning, Charlie,” she said, bending down to give my cat an affectionate greeting.
Her long red hair pulled back in a ponytail, Jordan looked younger than thirty-one. Tall and willowy, she was a striking woman, with flawless skin and flashing green eyes. “Good morning,” I said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” she said, standing up. “Can Diesel have a treat or two?”
“Sure,” I said. “You spoil him, you know.”
Jordan laughed. “He’s a big guy. Needs to keep up his strength.”
I passed over the leash, and Diesel padded happily after Jordan.
I hoped that by the time Jordan brought Diesel back I could figure out an approach. I scanned the bookshelves in front of me, as if I could find inspiration there.
I heard the bell on the door, and then a voice called out, “Morning, everybody. I brought doughnuts.”
Recognizing the voice of Patty Simpson, I smiled. With Patty here it shouldn’t be too hard to steer the conversation around to the death of the town’s famous writer.
I left the mystery section for the front counter. Her back to me, Patty was setting down a box of doughnuts along with a purse and a bag of books. Jack Thompson had disappeared from behind the counter.
“I finished the galley of that new thriller you gave me,” Patty said without turning her head. “It was pretty awful, so I don’t think you should order more than one.”
Then she turned and saw me. “Oh, sorry, I thought it was Jordan. How are you, Mr. Harris? Would you like a doughnut?”
I would very much have liked a doughnut, but after the breakfast I had consumed, I knew I shouldn’t. “No, thank you,” I said, surprised that the words actually came out of my mouth.
“There’s plenty,” Patty said.
“No, really, I’m okay. But thanks for the offer.”
“I’ll be right back.” Patty grabbed her purse and scurried off in the direction of the back room.
While I waited, I turned my back on the doughnuts, lest I be tempted further. Instead I focused on a nearby display of diet cookbooks. I ought to buy one, but I knew I’d never cook anything out of it.
When Patty returned, she eyed the box of doughnuts. She helped herself to one, stuffing half of it in her mouth. Judging from the plumpness of her figure, she wasn’t interested in diet cookbooks any more than I was.
“Have you heard the big news?” She popped the rest of the doughnut into her mouth while she waited for my reply.
There was no point in playing coy. Sooner or later everyone would know I found the body.
“Yes, I have. Poor Godfrey.”
Patty swallowed. Her expression turned sour, and I didn’t think it was from the doughnut.
“He was a colossal jerk, that’s what he was.” Patty reached for a second doughnut before pulling her hand back.
“I went to school with him,” I said. “He wasn’t always a nice person. Did you know him?”
“Only through the bookstore. And from things my Aunt Melba has told me about him.” She shot me an arch look. “I know you know my Aunt Melba. Don’t you think she looks good for someone her age?”
I suppressed a laugh. Patty was anything but subtle. “She sure does.”
Patty grinned, and I knew the minute I left she’d be on the phone with Melba, reporting my comment.
“So Godfrey came to the store to sign books, I guess.” If I didn’t steer the subject back to Godfrey, no telling what Patty, trying to get a response from me, would say about Melba next.
“Not as often as he should have.” Patty frowned. “You’d think Mr. High-and-Mighty Bestselling Author would have the decency to help out his hometown bookstore. But not him. He was too good for us.”
“You mean he wouldn’t sign here?” That was rather ugly of Godfrey, if it was true.
“Well, he did sign a couple of times,” Patty said. “But the last time he was going to come, he canceled at the last minute and went over to that big chain bookstore out on the highway instead. The jerk.”
“What are you talking about?” Jordan and Diesel walked up to us, and I could tell that Jordan wasn’t happy as she gave Diesel’s leash back to me. Diesel stared back and forth between us, sensing the sudden tension in the room.
“About Godfrey Priest,” Patty said, not the least fazed by Jordan’s forbidding expression. “And about the dirty trick he played on us the last time he was supposed to sign here.”
“We all have better things to do with our time than talk about that jackass,” Jordan said. “You need to finish checking those backlist orders.” She turned and stalked off.
Patty waited until Jordan was safely out of earshot before moving a step closer to me and Diesel. “She used to be in love with him, you know.”
“Really?” I felt awkward. This was the kind of thing I had come for, but it suddenly seemed a bit embarrassing.
Patty was not embarrassed. “Oh yeah, she would go off to those mystery conventions, when he was still showing up at them, and I think they had a big ol’ fling. But then he must’ve dumped her.”
“That’s too bad. He did have a terrible reputation with women, though.” I kept an eye on the back room. Jordan might reappear at any moment, and I didn’t want her to catch us.
“And that was when he stopped coming to the store.” Patty sounded triumphant, as if she’d just solved a puzzle.
That was interesting. Hell hath no fury, etc. Not to mention a bookstore owner whose business could be hurt by the defection of a big-selling writer.
Jordan stuck her head out of the back room. “Patty, have you started on that backlist order yet?”
“Just starting it now.” Patty’s tone was cheerful in reply. She winked at me. “If you need help with anything, you just let me know.” She turned to look around the counter for something. She picked up a printout and brandished it at me. “I have to go through the romance section and decide what we need to reorder. I’m the expert for that section.”
As she turned, her foot caught on something, and she stumbled toward me. I put out a hand to steady her, and Diesel scooted out of the way.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now what’s this doing here?”
She stooped down and picked up a box of books that had been sitting on the floor behind the counter. She set the box, labeled with Godfrey’s name and the title of his new book, on the counter next to the doughnuts.
Julia’s words from last night flashed into my mind. “Could I have a look at one of those? I haven’t read it yet.”
Shrugging, Patty pulled one out of the box and handed it to me. “It’s pretty awful. I gave up after fifty pages.”
I heard her only dimly as I opened the book to the title page. There, below the printed name, was Godfrey’s signature.
And yesterday’s date.
FIFTEEN
“This is pretty interesting.” I held the book out to Patty.
She took it from me and glanced down at the title page.
“Whoa. This is going to be worth something, let me tell you.” She snapped the book shut and stuck it back in the box.
“I suppose so.” I was annoyed she hadn’t given the book back to me, but perhaps she was so surprised she didn’t realize her rudeness.