Vinny scratched his brown beard. "Penelope?"
"Come in, Vinny, come in!" called Aunt Sadie, walking up behind me. "You know where to take those, don't you?"
"Sure thing," said Vinny, whistling as he wheeled the dead author's books toward the back of the store.
CHAPTER 8. Dead Speakers Don't Talk
Funny how gentle people get with you once you're dead.
– Sunset Boulevard, 1950
STANDING BESIDE ME, Sadie put her arm around my shoulders. "What shall we do with Dr. Lilly's books, do you think? Put them on the selling floor with some sort of note?"
I shook my head. "To tell you the truth, I'd feel terrible hawking them today."
Sadie nodded. "You're right. Let's hold them in the storeroom for now. I'm sure Dr. Lilly would want her book available to the public, but I think it's best if we let Brainert handle the announcement of what happened. We'll just focus on other books today and let the poor woman rest in peace."
"Aunt Sadie," I said in a quiet voice, "what do you think about Dr. Lilly's death? You heard what I said to Chief Ciders. Do you think her death is suspicious, too? Or do you believe Ciders is right, and that she simply fell by accident?"
My aunt's arm fell away from my shoulders and she actually looked a little miffed. "I can't believe you just asked me that, Penelope!"
"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot-"
"Chief Ciders is the biggest blowhard in this town! His opinion isn't worth a hill of beans, and you've proved it more than once in the last few years. That's what's eating him, Pen.
He's obviously determined never to let you get the best of him again. Well, I believe you, dear, and I believe in you."
Sadie smiled at me then; and, boy, did I need that vote of confidence.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Sweetie, you're a wonderful niece, and a very sharp young woman." She put her arm back around my shoulders and squeezed. "Don't you think I feel terrible about leaving that poor woman in our store alone? Whatever I can do to help, you let me know. And for goodness' sake don't you go letting Ciders's idiotic bluster discourage you from following your instincts. They've been good in the past, and I have no doubt that whatever track you're on, it's the right one."
Bang, Bang, Bang!
Sadie and I jumped at the noise, then looked up to find a twentysomething with tattoos, a nose ring, and a SIN CITY T-shirt knocking on the glass window of our front door. "Open up already!" his muffled voice demanded. Then he turned back to his group of young friends and they all laughed.
I sighed. The ambulance, cops, and mysterious body bag wheeled out of our store had made us a local spectacle. The crowd out front was even bigger now, snaking down the sidewalk, spilling into the street. Waiting customers were gossiping with curious tourists. Some were laughing and pointing.
I stepped closer to the front window, overheard some snippets of conversation. "I can't believe it, but I think these people believe we just staged a publicity stunt."
"That's awful!" said Aunt Sadie. "Who would think we'd do such a thing?!"
"It's Film Noir week. Dark and cynical are the words of the day."
"Then I guess we'd better open soon," said Sadie, shaking her head, "or we're liable to get another ticket from the councilwoman for unlawful assembly."
"What do we'd do about the twelve o'clock signing?" I studied the crowd, hoping to spot Brainert. "Should we just send the people away? I don't relish announcing our store's noontime speaker is now a corpse on its way to an autopsy."
"There are a lot of authors scheduled for signings this weekend," said my aunt. "Perhaps we can call someone, ask him or her to step in."
"Isn't that Maggie Kline out there, speaking to a group of college kids?" I pointed to the sixty-something woman with the red glasses and bouncy, scarlet-streaked, cocoa-colored curls.
"The screen and television writer?" Sadie peered through the plate glass, into the crowd. "Oh, yes, that's her. I spoke to her briefly at the party last evening. She's quite smart and articulate. And we have at least three of her suspense novels in stock. She penned them years ago, but their backlist sales have held up well. Do you think, since she's here now, she might step
in for Dr. Lilly?"
I checked my watch. "Ms. Kline's already scheduled for a Saturday signing, but there's such a huge crowd here now, I bet she wouldn't mind doing a little Q and A for us. How do you feel about introducing her?"
"I'd love to!" said Sadie. "I've read her books, of course, and seen most of those television shows she used to write for… Let me see now… there was The Brutal Streets, Manhunt, Shield of Justice. I can certainly think of a few good questions for her if the audience can't."
In the next few minutes, our spirits brighter, Sadie and I helped Officer Eddie finish cleaning the Community Events room, and our young part-time clerk, Mina Griffith, arrived to start her shift.
"I think we should call Seymour, too," I told Sadie. "We'll really need him for crowd control."
She nodded, dialed his cell, and got right through. "He'll be here in ten minutes," she said.
Finally, Mina braced herself behind the counter; Aunt Sadie positioned herself inside the Events room; and I opened the front door. The murmuring, laughing people flowed in like a river released from a dam, many of them heading right into the adjoining space to grab seats for our noontime event.
I stood near the front of the store, watching for Maggie Kline-until a large man in a Hawaiian shirt of neon pink and lime green blotted out my view of practically everything else.
"Good morning… you're Pen McClure right?" asked the man. "You run this store?"
"Yes, with my aunt," I said, weaving and bobbing to see around the man's bulky form.
"I'm here for the film festival, and I was just wondering what the deal was? With the ambulance and police, I mean. Somebody have a stroke or heart attack in here or something?" He lowered his voice. "It wasn't Hedda Geist, was it? The corpse they wheeled out looked pretty small, like a woman."
I moved my gaze north of the large, Hawaiian-shirted obstruction and immediately recognized the round baby face and blond ponytail of the famous Webmaster Barry Yello-the young guy who'd introduced Dr. Lilly the night before.
"Oh, my goodness," I murmured. "You're Barry Yello, aren't you?"
"Rumor has it."
I quickly pulled him aside. In hushed tones, I told Barry that his colleague Dr. Lilly was the one who'd died in our store. "She fell from a ladder."
"God, that's awful." Barry shook his head. "I better get the news out on my Web site."
"Oh, no! Don't do that! Not until we're sure her family's been notified."
"Oh, yeah. Right." Barry frowned. "Sorry, but I didn't know her that well. I mean, I learned a lot from her books. And she seemed like a nice lady, but as far as her personal life?" He shrugged. "I think she's married, but I don't have any contact info or anything. Wish I could be more helpful. You're better off tracking down Dean Pepper for that… or Professor Brainert Parker."
"I will."
"Like I said, I'm sorry about what happened; but I'm glad it wasn't Hedda Geist." He glanced around the store. "You haven't seen her around this morning, have you?"
"Hedda? No. She's not expected here for her signing until five."
"Her signing?" Barry squinted. "What's she going to sign, publicity stills?"
We were standing near the Film Noir Festival display, so I just pointed to Hedda's oversized photo book.
"Oh, yeah. Portraits in Shadow" He grabbed a copy off the stack. "I forgot about this thing. But then it was pretty forgettable. The text is disappointingly minimal… more like extended captions. She should have hired someone like me to write a real book for her. It's no wonder it didn't make any waves. I mean, she didn't do much to promote it, either."