"Actually, it was a Naked City marathon," said Spencer around his first gooey mouthful of pancakes.
"That old show from the sixties? I didn't know they were running those things."
Spencer nodded. "It was way wicked, Mom. One episode was about a dancing girl who fell down a flight of stairs during a party. Only she didn't 'fall,' you see what I'm getting at?"
"Yes, but you know what I think-" "Somebody pushed her!"
I adjusted my black rectangular glasses. "You know what I think, Spencer?"
"What?"
"There are eight million stories in the Naked City, but you're not old enough to watch any of them yet." Reaching over with a napkin, I wiped a dribble of syrup from his chin. He waved my hand away-a big boy now.
"I got it, Mom."
"I can't believe Bonnie let you stay up to watch that show."
"Bonnie" was Bonnie Franzetti, my son's babysitter, and sister of my late brother's best friend, Eddie Franzetti. The Franzettis owned a successful pizza restaurant on Cranberry Street, but Eddie hadn't followed the family tradition. Instead, he'd become an officer on the Quindicott police force.
"The marathon started at seven," said Spencer. "Anyway, it was no big deal. I usually stay up until ten anyway."
I had the sneaking suspicion Spencer had stayed up later than ten, mostly because it was harder than usual to wake him up this morning-after my own alarm clock had nearly given me a heart attack, that is.
"Enough talk. Finish your pancakes. The coach will be here any minute to pick you up."
"Okey-dokey," Spencer replied, attempting an impression of Edward G. Robinson.
Minutes later, I was shoving my bare feet into penny loafers and we were heading downstairs. I grabbed the store keys from behind the counter and let Spencer out to meet Coach Farmer's minivan. Today was Saturday, no school, but there was an all-day baseball clinic for the regional Little League teams, and Spencer was eager to get tips on fielding and batting.
"See you, Mom!"
I waved to the coach and locked the door again. That's when Jack finally made an appearance.
Was that kid trying to sound like Little Caesar? 'Cause he sounded more like Spanky from Our Gang.
"Edward G. Robinson has become one of Spencer's favorite
Intrigue Channel tough guys-second only to Jack Shield. I haven't the heart to tell him his imitation is a little off."
Maybe Spence should wait until he gets a little hair on his lip, or at least until his voice changes-
"Okay! End of conversation."
I glanced at my wristwatch. It was not yet eight, but with two hours remaining before we opened our doors, there was still plenty to do. I went back upstairs to shower and dress. After blowing out my shoulder-length auburn hair, I buttoned on a simple cream-colored blouse, stepped into pressed black slacks, and returned to the shop to open the register and boot up our computer system.
For years, my aunt Sadie had run the Quindicott shop just as her late father had-that is to say, she received book deliveries and placed them on the shelves for loyal customers to wander in and purchase at their leisure. But as the store's loyal customer base gradually died off and the town fell on hard times, Sadie prepared to pack it in, too. That's when I offered an alternative, along with much of the check from my late husband's life insurance policy.
With the ready cash, we remodeled the dusty old shop, overhauled the inventory, opened the Community Events space in the adjoining storefront, and launched a marketing campaign and Internet site. Sadie had always been New England practical, so she'd been tense about spending the money, especially when it came to mortgaging her original store to expand our space for special events. But now our business was going gangbusters. And this weekend was shaping up to be an especially profitable one for us.
I was just starting to tidy up the front display tables when Aunt Sadie finally made an appearance. She looked lovely this morning in tweedy brown slacks and a forest-green boatneck sweater, which nicely set off her short, newly colored auburn hair.
Dyeing her hair was about the only vanity Sadie allowed herself. She had a few pieces of jewelry, but seldom wore them. Necklaces were "plain useless" and "a waste of money," whereas a chain to hold reading glasses, now that had a functional purpose-which is why she had a serious variety of chains in her collection (today's consisted of small pink seashells). But that was Sadie Thornton: as averse to unnecessary ornamentations as a Shaker chair.
I noticed she was limping as she came down the stairs, which was unusual for my usually spry auntie.
"Backache?" I asked, pushing up my black glasses.
Sadie shrugged. "I woke up in the middle of the night with a sharp pain in my side. I thought it came from sitting so long in that movie theater seat, until I found my remote control underneath me on the mattress." She shook her head. "I don't know how the thing got there."
"I'm pretty sure I do," I said with a sigh. "There was a Naked City marathon on TV last night-"
"Spencer?"
"I'm betting Bonnie sent him off to bed, not realizing there was another television in the apartment." My suspicions vindicated, I shrugged. "That's one mystery solved, at least…"
"What do you mean one mystery?" Sadie's eyes met mine. "Is there another?"
"Maybe," I said, thinking about my dream. "But if I'm going to solve it, I'll need your help."
Sadie raised her eyebrows, obviously intrigued. "What do you need, dear?"
"I'd like you to check your old contacts in the out-of-print book market. I'm looking for any books published about the history of Gotham Features studio."
" Gotham Features?" Sadie said. "Just what are you looking for?"
"A lot of things…"
Yeah, said Jack in my head, like whether Hedda actually had a motive to set up Irving Vreen for the big knife. Or was it Pierce Armstrong setting Hedda up?"
"Or was the whole thing simply a tragic accident," I silently reminded the ghost. "Just like last night's falling speaker. Maybe Hedda really is just accident-prone."
Brrring!
The store's front doorbell interrupted us. I glanced at the locked glass door and saw Dr. Irene Lilly waving at me from the other side.
"What's she doing here so early?" Aunt Sadie asked. "Her book signing isn't scheduled until noon."
"She's probably worried about that overnight shipment of her new book arriving from the publisher. Remember? The first shipment never got here." I grabbed the key from behind the counter and hurried to open the door.
"Good morning, Mrs. McClure. Ready for another big day?"
Once again, Dr. Lilly looked very West Coast in a sunshine yellow ankle-length cotton dress and leather sandals. Her tanned complexion contrasted attractively with her straight, dark blonde hair. Despite the early hour, she was brimming with energy as she entered the store. Laugh lines deepened around her eyes when she greeted my aunt.
"Sadie and I were just about to set up while we waited for the delivery of your books," I told her, closing and locking the door again.
"Good," said Dr. Lilly. "I just know your shop's going to get a big crowd today. I wanted to bring you both coffee and pastry, but the line at your town's wonderful bakery is running halfway down the block!"
"Uh-oh," I murmured, glancing at my aunt. "I hope Linda Cooper remembers the order I placed." I'd requested four dozen of their lighter-than-air doughnuts and two giant thermal containers of coffee to be ready by nine this morning. "I'd better get over there and pick them up."
Dr. Lilly slipped the suede purse off her shoulder and set it down on the counter. "Go," she commanded. "Your aunt Sadie and I can get the event room set up."
"Thank you so much, Dr. Lilly-"
"Please, it's Irene."
"I'll be back with coffee and donuts in no time," I promised, snatching up my keys and purse.
I SHOULD HAVE known this day would be a disaster when I turned the ignition key on my battered Saturn and nothing happened.