Bookmarked for Blood: A Bookish Cafe Mystery, #5

Chapter 1

Two women loitered at the register, chattering away at a rate of at least three hundred words a minute. At least, that was what Maggie Bell thought as she hid behind the tall bookshelves in the children’s corner of the Bookish Café. On and on the women nattered about how wonderful they looked and how they hadn’t changed a bit and had they heard about so-and-so and whatever happened to such-and-such and remember the blah-blah-blah during homecoming and wasn’t that just so much fun.

Maggie took a deep breath as she peeked around the shelf. Her eye just happened to fall on an old copy of Trixie Belden and the Mystery of the Slinking Shadow. The irony made her pinch her lips together before carefully peeking at the women again. It was as if she’d been hiding for hours. Why didn’t they at least go to the café and take a seat instead of rambling on about their days in high school by the bookshelves?

What are you doing?

The deep male voice shocked Maggie, almost making her yelp. She clapped her hand over her own mouth before any sound came out and turned to face her boss. She put a finger to her lips.

Maggie, are you aware that Valentine’s Day is just around the corner and we don’t have our window display up yet? whispered Joshua Whitfield, the owner of the Bookish Café.

Yes, Maggie whispered back. As soon as those women leave, I’ll get started on it.

Why are you waiting for those women to leave?

Because I don’t want to talk to them, she replied.

Why not? Joshua crouched slightly, like Maggie was doing, trying to remain unseen.

I went to high school with them. They are in town for the reunion. A reunion, can you believe that? The whole thing makes me feel itchy.

Is that all? Joshua finally straightened up and looked down a couple inches at Maggie.

She straightened too, and she could tell by Joshua’s smirk that he didn’t understand her angst at all. But there was absolutely no need for him to look so handsome while missing her point completely.

"Is that all? It’s too much. For the past week, I’ve been shucking and jiving in and out of doorways, behind bushes, and under tables just to avoid the invasion of classmates who have been popping up all over town." She shuddered.

Why? You visit with so many of them every day. Didn’t you and Gary go to school together? Joshua replied.

His inquiry annoyed Maggie because he was totally right.

"I don’t visit with them. I tolerate them."

As she was trying to explain her discomfort with strolling down memory lane without going into great detail about her awkward and embarrassing high school experience, her two classmates left the bookstore. She looked to the door as the jingling bell indicated movement and finally let out a long sigh.

You can’t hide from every customer that comes in. I don’t know why you’d want to. You practically run this bookstore. Our window displays win almost every competition Fair Haven has because they are so beautiful and creative. And you look like you could still be in high school. Isn’t that what you girls are always worried about? Who got fat? Who went bald? You did neither, Joshua said with that adorable smirk that made Maggie want to melt.

She frowned and rolled her eyes. Very funny.

I’m being serious, Joshua said.

For a second, they stood there in awkward silence. Had this been a movie or romance novel, Maggie was sure he would have scooped her into his arms and they would have shared a beautiful first kiss. But this was real life, and instead, Maggie backed into the bookshelf, making Horton Hears a Who and Red Fish, Blue Fish fall to the floor. With both of them scrambling to pick up the books, a headbutt was inevitable. They stood, Maggie rubbing her left eyebrow as Joshua tenderly touched the right side of his forehead.

Could you get away from me now? Maggie huffed.

Yes. I will. You’re dangerous to be around, Maggie Bell, Joshua said. And I’m waiting to see the window display. Valentine’s Day is coming whether you like it or not. You’re running out of time. Here. He reached around to retrieve his wallet.

Maggie, still rubbing her forehead, waited as he counted out one hundred dollars. What’s this for? Settling out of court? she smirked.

Go buy whatever you need for the window. Maybe pick up a couple of things for the café too. I know Babs has some ideas, so maybe ask her if there is anything she might be looking for. Joshua nodded before heading back into the storeroom.

Maggie blushed. She looked around the bookstore and realized that a lot had changed since Alexander Whitfield, Joshua’s father, had run the place. She had worked for him for years, and there were times, like now, she really wished he were there to talk to. When he’d died, it was as if Maggie had lost her favorite warm sweater to a thief who ripped it from her shoulders before running away, laughing loudly.

What would you say to him now, Maggie Bell? That you have a crush on his grandson and don’t know what to do about it? she muttered as she stacked the books back in their places.

The sad thing was she knew she wouldn’t have had to tell Mr. Whitfield a thing about how she felt for Joshua. He’d have known without her uttering one single syllable. There would be that look in his eye that she’d seen a million times when he suggested she read a book at which she’d previously turned her nose up. Like the time he’d made her read The Time Machine.

Ugh. I don’t like science fiction, she had grumbled.

You will enjoy this one. I know you will, Mr. Whitfield had insisted as he handed her the worn-out copy. There is more to it than time travel.

She snatched the book away from him and clicked her tongue. "You remember I wasn’t all that crazy for War of the Worlds. It just didn’t stick with me. The old movie on Family Classics was better. H.G. Wells is just not…"

Just not what? Romantic enough? Mr. Whitfield teased.

‘Just not my cup of tea’ is what I was going to say, Maggie replied. All the descriptions of futuristic machines and the creatures that drive them seems to go on and on…and on. With a deliberate eye roll, she turned from her boss and tucked the book into her backpack to take home.

At least give it a chance. Sometimes, an author doesn’t get into his own voice until after a first book. Sometimes, they lose their voice after a first book. Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you think?

Maggie had always hated when Mr. Whitfield made her reconsider. Since reading was Maggie’s favorite hobby, she had finished the book that night. When she had walked into the shop the next morning, Mr. Whitfield had had that look in his eyes that she loved and hated at the same time.

Well? What did you think? he asked as if he didn’t know the answer.

It was better than I thought it would be, Maggie reluctantly replied.

Not just a science fiction story, now, was it?

After a deep inhale and exhale, Maggie stomped up to her boss and handed him the book.

No, it was wonderful and very moving in parts, and I hope you are happy knowing you are making me annoyed.

Mr. Whitfield chuckled, giving her that look that said he knew he was right. She’d seen that look a lot over the years. It made her smile even as tears stung her eyes. Mr. Whitfield had died at the bookstore while she was with him. One minute, they were talking about a book, and the next, everything was silent, as if a radio had been suddenly snapped off or a washing machine had finally finished its cycle. Not only had Mr. Whitfield died suddenly, but he had died peacefully in the place he loved the most with someone who thought of him as family. Isn’t that what everyone hopes for when their time comes?

Maggie nodded at the memory. Quickly, she shook off the sadness, sniffled, and wiped her nose with her sleeve. By this time, the coast was clear and there was no sign of her classmates anywhere.

Valentine’s Day. Ugh, she muttered as she slipped into her coat and tucked the money Joshua had given her into her pocket.

She’d had a couple of ideas about how she wanted the display window to look. She wasn’t sure they were as lovey-dovey as her boss may have wanted. She was sure that everywhere down the main drag, there would be silhouettes of cupids, red and pink hearts cut out of construction paper, and silly slogans like Love is in the air or that oldie but goodie, Be my valentine, plastered in the windows. Those were the images to be avoided at all costs.

With her hood pulled over her head and her scarf wrapped across her nose, Maggie marched outside, confident that if she crossed paths with any of her classmates, they would not recognize her. The wind had kicked up slightly since she’d arrived at work that morning. The sky had been a bright blue but was slowly turning overcast. Maggie always preferred gray days to sunny ones and took this to be a sign her day was going to get better and be free of any unwelcome visitors and conversations.

Of course, fate had other plans.

Chapter 2

Sell It Again Sam was an old elementary school that had been transformed into a gigantic thrift store off the beaten track of Main Street, tucked behind some of the most beautiful older homes in Fair Haven. Maggie was always surprised at the things people got rid of. She bought almost all of her vintage sweaters and jewelry there, and although she rarely spoke to anyone, the staff did all know her and gave her a friendly wave when she walked in. Today was no exception.

With a quick grin and wave, Maggie acknowledged the woman who was always working at the front register. Maggie wasn’t sure, but she thought her name was Sadie. She looked like a Sadie. Leopard print was a staple in her wardrobe.

Normally, a trip to SIAS would require about two hours because Maggie would slowly meander from room to room. Each classroom was dedicated to a specific subject. One was women’s clothes. Another was men’s. There was a room full of children’s toys and another full of books. Normally, Maggie spent most of her time searching through the stacks of vintage romances and collections that people had donated.

But today, she was on a mission and made her way to the holiday room. Christmas trees and jack-o’-lanterns were displayed side by side all year round. In addition to the big holidays, there were corners dedicated to St. Patrick, the miracle of Easter, and what Maggie was in search of: Valentine’s Day décor. She spied elegant vintage cards, signed by mysterious individuals who Maggie imagined were separated by miles or maybe even forbidden lovers sending daring communications through the US Postal Service. The idea made her smirk, and she came up with a unique idea for the display window. It wasn’t the traditional pink-and-red Be mine kind of décor. She’d leave that to Babs in the café. No, the bookstore was going to have a humdinger of a display. Maggie thought this might be her most creative idea yet.

She managed to scoop up two shoeboxes full of cards and grabbed some paper doilies and a few random bags of tiny sparkly red hearts that could be sprinkled on a table. A couple packs of vintage wrapping paper printed with bulging roses and delicate baby’s breath also found their way into Maggie’s basket.

Just as she was about to leave, feeling light and eager to get back to work, she ran smack into another woman, causing both of them to drop their treasures.

I’m s-so sorry, Maggie stuttered.

It never fails. When I’m in a hurry, something gets in my way, the woman replied.

Maggie couldn’t tell if the lady was criticizing herself or blaming the collision on Maggie’s clumsiness. As soon as she stood up and looked at the familiar face, though, she knew she was going to be one hundred percent to blame.

Oh my gosh! Maggie Bell? the woman gasped.

Shelly Pinkowski? Maggie muttered as if she had a slice of lemon in her mouth. She recognized the pug nose and heavy-lidded eyes that gave Shelly a continual look of indifference.

Wow. Shelly stepped back and looked Maggie up and down as if she was observing an animal in a zoo. You haven’t changed a bit.

Yeah, neither have you, Maggie replied as she wrinkled her nose and pushed up her glasses. I’m assuming you are here for the reunion?

Yes, well, sort of. My aunt passed away, Shelly said as if it was the most boring bit of news she could have to report.

I’m so sorry, Maggie replied. It was what she had been raised to say when people reported bad news. It was what normal people did. But it proved to be unnecessary, since Shelly Pinkowski was not normal.

She and my mother had a falling out years ago. I don’t know what about. But I stayed in touch because, well, she had quite a bit of money, I’ll be honest. And her own children had disowned her. That tells you something about my family, doesn’t it?

Sort of, Maggie replied softly. She watched Shelly as if she was watching a movie on the verge of a jump scare.

To make a long story short, she made me executor of her will. How about that? She also left everything to me, including that old, haunted house she lived in. You can bet I had that on the market as soon as I found out I owned it. Shelly smirked and shook her head.

What house is that?

That big monstrosity on Campbell Street.

You mean the one with the spires and the pillars in front? Maggie asked.

She’d always loved that house and thought with a little paint and some landscaping, it would look like a life-size doll house.

That’s the one. Now, do I look like I could live in a house like that? Shelly chuckled and flipped her hair. I’ve got a house on the coast in California Wine Country. What do I need with a place that gets covered by ten feet of snow every winter?

Maggie squinted at Shelly for a split second. Someone who hailed from the Golden State usually wasn’t as pale as Maggie was. But maybe Shelly was tanless because she worked all the time or didn’t like to sunbathe. Maybe she used SPF 2000 or something. As much as Maggie wanted to call bull on Shelly’s story, she didn’t. What would be the point?

So, are you here for the reunion? Shelly finally asked.

I live in town. I’ve got a little place just… over… Maggie started but stopped when she saw Shelly look at her watch.

I’m sorry, Maggie. I really need to get going. I’ve had so much stuff dropped off here from the house, and I still have at least another truckload to deliver. I have to pack most of it myself. Heaven knows my cousins won’t help.

That’s really sad that they won’t even help with their mother’s things, Maggie said. "Maybe it bothers them more than they are letting on. I lost someone