If Books Could Kill

Book 3: Tomes & Tea Mystery Series

by Karen Rose Smith

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Cozy Mystery; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

Daisy Swanson’s daughter Jazzi has moved away to the lakeside town of Belltower Landing, but the apple doesn’t fall from the tree. Much like Daisy, she’s running a tea bar and bookshop––and has a knack for getting into hot water…

Town librarian Mathilda has a troublesome new emplROSEoyee, and after Jazzi spots the two of them arguing at the ice-sculpture festival, Mathilda asks Jazzi if she’d mind discussing her workplace woes over a cup of tea. During the visit, Jazzi also finds out about Mathilda’s top-secret stash of valuable first editions.

Soon afterward, those rare books have vanished—and Mathilda is dead. As the police check out suspects and a lawyer searches for the next of kin, Jazzi learns that the librarian’s life was as mysterious as any crime thriller. She’d left home and changed her name as a teenager, and always seemed a little lonely. Oddly, it’s her new employee who seems the most distraught.

It’s the off-season, so the upstate New York town is free of the usual swarm of tourists—but the quiet doesn’t last long. The press is descending as the murder makes national news, and rumors start circulating. With Belltower Landing steeped in suspicion, Jazzi must figure out whether the first editions were the real motive for sending Mathilda to her final resting place…

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Something was worrying Mathilda Woods, library director of Belltower Landing’s public library, and Jazzi Swanson didn’t know what to do about it. She watched Mathilda sip at a cup of hot green tea from the tea bar at Tomes & Tea. This Tuesday, the blustery January wind raged against the bookstore’s bay window at the front of the store.

Jazzi had stopped by Mathilda’s chair to chat about the upcoming weekend’s Frozen Beauty event. “Would you like another chocolate raspberry cupcake? This is a new recipe at the Dockside Bakery, and Colleen said her customers are raving about them.” Mathilda had pulled hers apart bit by bit almost automatically, as if she wasn’t cognizant about what she was eating.

“No. No thanks.” Mathilda pushed against her short brown hair fluffing along the oval birthmark on her left cheek. Her chin was delicately pointed, her lips thin, and her nose turned up just a smidgen. In her forties, she usually had a no-nonsense personality. Today, however, she seemed unsettled about something.

“I’m glad for this respite.” She motioned to the seaglass-blue book cubbies where blue and green LED lights glowed. “Your store is upbeat and modern … from the Edison light chandeliers to the colorful chairs at the tables. Maybe I should use a slice of the funds raised by the ice festival to do something like that at the library.”

Belltower Landing, a lake resort town in New York state, had a reputation for its special events that shored up its businesses and drew tourists to the town all year long. The ice-sculpture festival benefitted the library. Mathilda had dropped in at Tomes & Tea today to discuss the library’s tent for the festival because Jazzi had volunteered to help staff it.

“Are you sure you and Dawn can provide hot tea to the number of passersby who file through the library tent?”

Jazzi’s glossy black hair that fell to her mid-back swayed as she sensed a presence behind her and turned to see her partner and best friend behind her chair.

“Hi, Mathilda. Has Jazzi given you our book recommendations to display in the tent?”

Dawn’s bubbly voice brought a smile to Mathilda’s face. That smile made her attractive in spite of the worried lines on her brow.

“She did. Those titles should encourage our visitors to tell us what books they prefer to see in our stacks.”

Mathilda was all about securing books for every type of reader, Jazzi knew. She didn’t abide book banning.

Suddenly Dawn stooped and gathered a beautifully designed and colorfully knitted scarf in an Aztec design that had fallen to the floor. “Is this yours? It’s gorgeous.”

“It is. An artist friend knitted that for me.” Mathilda leaned in to Jazzi and Dawn as if she was telling them a secret. “I do enjoy owning one-of-a-kind pieces. It makes me feel special.”

Mathilda and Jazzi mostly had a surface friendship, and Jazzi had never known that about her.

Erica Garcia, the store’s head of the sales staff, called to Dawn from the computer desk. After Dawn excused herself, Jazzi returned to the conversation she’d been having with Mathilda. “Don’t be concerned about the tea. We have huge insulated urns that will keep it hot.”

Leaning back in her chair, Mathilda sighed.

Jazzi couldn’t help but ask, “Is something troubling you?”

The librarian sat quiet for a few beats.

“I think my age is showing.” Her frown turned down both corners of her mouth until they almost reached her chin.

Mathilda didn’t wear makeup and she usually dressed conservatively. Still, she was attractive when her face held a positive expression. “You’re certainly not old,” Jazzi protested.

“I’m forty.”

Jazzi’s eyebrows rose, asking a question that might be too personal to put into words.

“Maybe I’m not old in years, but in thoughts. I’ve always considered myself a good judge of character, a good employee, someone who could get along with anybody. Look how long I’ve been handling the public, their criticism as well as praise.”

“You handle the library patrons expertly.” Jazzi wasn’t simply praising the library director to lift her up. It was true. Not only was Mathilda knowledgeable about almost every subject, but she was kind, sensible, and a stickler for good care of books and the library.

“Not all of them,” she said with a grimace and a look akin to fear in her hazel eyes. Then that fear dissipated. “In addition, now I’m having difficulty with staff.”

Jazzi used the library, so she knew that the staff worked together like the proverbial well-oiled machine. Juggling patrons, the library board, employees, and the mayor where funding was concerned wasn’t easy.

“I have a relatively recent hire.” She lowered her voice. “Have you met Tinsley Riva?”

Jazzi had a brief recollection of a young woman with purple edging the ends of her blond hair as she shelved books. “I haven’t actually met her. Is she the page with purple hair?”

“She is. She’s young, and I thought she’d connect with our younger readers. She’s smart and IT savvy. I believed she’d be a novel addition to the staff.” Mathilda turned her paper teacup around and around, staring in at the tea. “We’re clashing. Either she has an attitude, or I just can’t relate to a twenty-one-year-old. And that’s enough said on the subject. Let’s return to the most important and joyful topic in life—books.”

Jazzi agreed. Yet her natural curiosity urged her to learn more about Tinsley Riva.

On her way out of Tomes & Tea on Friday, Jazzi zipped up her teal parka with its faux-fur trimmed hood and pulled on her gloves. On this thirty-degree January afternoon, the sculpture to the side of the bookstore’s bay window sparkled in the sunlight. An ice-sculpture artist had created the figure of a sitting child with a book in her lap. A placard with the artist’s name stood in front of it.

The ice-sculpture festival that was publicized as the Frozen Beauty Weekend drew tourists from New York, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and even Canada. Jazzi could attest to that from the Tomes & Tea sales receipts as well as the license plates she spotted along Lakeview Boulevard and in the public parking lots. Buses brought tourists to the Belltower Landing resorts in packaged deals for the weekend.

Tomes & Tea was located on the boulevard about a half block from the town green, where the bell tower chimed on the hour. The boulevard and the community center near the marina were included in the Frozen Beauty activities. Ice sculptures decorated the boulevard at entrances to the businesses that sponsored the weekend with donations.

Jazzi was helping Mathilda staff the library tent this afternoon. Under the bright powder-blue sky, even in this cold, tourists strolled the boulevard. Booths were set up for crafters and artists not only on the green but also in the community center’s gym.

Crossing the median-divided road at the light, Jazzi veered toward the bell tower. The library’s tent was bright green and easy to locate. The bell tower clock chimed two as Jazzi made her way past an ice sculpture of a dragon about ten feet tall. Then another of a wolf. As she turned to enter the tent, she spotted an artist working on the face of a lion. For the next two nights the green would be lit up for viewers to see the ice spectacles.

Once inside the tentlike structure that was really a canopy with side flaps to protect those inside from the wind, Jazzi heard Mathilda before she saw her. Then she recognized the man Mathilda was talking to—Detective Sergeant Paul Milford from the Belltower Landing Police Department.

Mathilda was saying, “Just keep him away from me.”

The detective responded, “We’ll do our best, but in this crowd it will be a challenge. As soon as Burger saw me, he ran off. The thing is, Ms. Woods, he was beyond the five-hundred-foot perimeter.”

“Useless,” Mathilda spat. “The order of protection is useless.”

The two of them had been so involved in their conversation, they hadn’t taken notice of Jazzi slipping inside. Now they did. The three of them went silent.

Jazzi spoke first. Taking a step back, she assured them, “I can leave.”

“No need,” Mathilda snapped. “The detective and I are finished.”

“Ms. Woods—” The detective began, giving Jazzi a shooing motion with his hand.

Since Jazzi and Paul Milford had a history, not always a positive one, Jazzi gave him a nod and told the librarian, “I’ll be right outside. Lots to see.”

Standing outside the tent, Jazzi’s mind started whirling. Why did Mathilda need an order of protection? Was someone stalking her? Had the library’s social media site brought out a troll who was more than bothersome?

Jazzi had hardly taken three steps toward a stand where a craftsman was selling beautiful leather purses when Tinsley Riva brushed past her and entered the tent. Her pretty face was pinched, her purple-edged blond hair blew in the cold breeze, and her fast stride conveyed the idea that she was on a mission.

From experience Jazzi knew the detective wouldn’t appreciate the interruption no matter what he and Mathilda were discussing.

Apparently, Tinsley didn’t care what type of discussion she’d barged into. Through the loose tent flap, Jazzi heard Tinsley’s voice loud and clear.

“You have to change my schedule. I don’t want to work the circulation desk.”

Mathilda’s voice sounded labored. “Tinsley, this isn’t the time to—”

Tinsley’s high voice cut her off. “You never want to hear what I have to say. I’m trying to work the night shift at the Green Grocer too and—”

Paul Milford’s voice interrupted Tinsley’s complaints. “Your problems have to wait.”

He must have shown her his shield, because there was a moment of silence. Then Tinsley exclaimed, “You’re a police officer?”

He responded, “A detective, to be exact. Maybe you can wait outside for a few minutes.”

Jazzi stepped away from the tent opening when Mathilda spoke up in disagreement. “We’re done, Detective. There’s really nothing else to say.”

Looking stone-faced when he brushed the tent flap aside, Paul Milford passed Jazzi without making eye contact or saying a word. Somehow Jazzi had become involved in two of his murder investigations last year, and he had not been happy about that. Mostly, Jazzi had to admit, he’d been concerned about her safety. This afternoon though, she could have been one of the ice sculptures standing there. He must have had something serious on his mind.

Mathilda’s and Tinsley’s voices were more muted now. As Jazzi hesitated to interrupt, Delaney Fabron, a public relations expert who was often hired by the mayor to help with special events like this one, approached Jazzi. Delaney’s style was always expensive, designer inspired, and perfect. Today she wore a fitted red wool coat, thigh-high black boots, exquisite makeup with false eyelashes, and a wide smile. A red felt hat tilted at a jaunty angle over her wispy-on-purpose light-brown hair.

She grabbed Jazzi’s arm. “This is going so well. Rupert and Charles should be pleased.”

Belltower Landing’s mayor, Rupert Harding, and his nephew Charles who was the mayor’s chief of staff, were hard to please. But as Jazzi’s gaze scanned the green with its ice sculptures, artists stands, and scads of tourists, she saw Delaney was right.

“If the weather holds this weekend, coffers of the businesses will be spilling over. That should make everyone happy.” Although Jazzi said the words, some of her attention lingered on Mathilda and Tinsley inside the tent.

Still excited from the wonderful turnout, due in large part to her efforts in garnering publicity for the weekend event, Delaney pointed to a few technicians running cables. “The green will have a spectacular light show tonight. Most of the sculptures here will be lit up. The mayor even agreed to a fireworks display over the lake tomorrow night.”

Jazzi knew that fireworks would fascinate all the tourists and residents around the lake no matter how low the temperature dropped. The perimeter of the lake was about thirty miles. The philanthropist Phineas J. Harding had built the community for the purpose of recreation and a harmonious life. Jazzi often wondered why he hadn’t named the town after himself rather than the bell tower. The mayor, a direct descendant of Phineas, strove to keep his ancestor’s purpose in mind.

“Fireworks over the lake will be a spectacular addition to the weekend,” Jazzi agreed, looking over her shoulder to the tent.

“What are you doing out here? Aren’t you supposed to be serving tea and talking to tourists about books?” Delaney gestured to the tent.

“It’s complicated. Bottom line is Tinsley Riva and Mathilda are having a conversation. I thought it better not to interrupt.” Jazzi stomped her feet. Even though she wore ankle-high boots, her feet were getting cold. Inside, there was a propane heater.

“I’ve heard about Tinsley,” Delaney said.

“Heard what?” Delaney had contacts and always kept her ear to the ground.

“I was talking to Ava the other day.”

Since Ava Kellog was the reference librarian and worked the most with Mathilda in running the library, she was privy to library matters. “What did she say?” Jazzi had to wonder whether Ava knew about Mathilda’s order of protection.

“Ava said Tinsley is a hard worker and facile with computers. But she doesn’t have much patience with patrons.”

That could be the reason Tinsley didn’t want to work the circulation desk. “Did Ava say anything about Tinsley’s background check?” To work at the library or even at a bookstore, being around children, potential employees had to submit to background checks.

Delaney clapped her gloved hands as if the cold was seeping into her too. “Obviously her background check went through, or she wouldn’t have been hired. But Ava did say that Tinsley is divorced.”

Divorced? That was hard for Jazzi to fathom since she seemed so young. She remembered Mathilda saying Tinsley was twenty-one.

Delaney confirmed that. “Ava said she’s twenty-one and that’s too young to be divorced. Ava told me she herself was divorced before she took the job here about six years ago. She’s in her forties so that would have put her in her mid-to-late thirties when she was divorced. She claimed at that age, even with some life experiences, it was hard enough.”

Jazzi automatically felt sorry for Tinsley. Did she have any family around to give her support? At least emotional if not physical or monetary support.

Suddenly Tinsley shot out of the tent, her thin flannel jacket flapping behind her, her facial features drawn tight, her quick exit enabling her to disappear into the crowd.

“Are you coming in?” Jazzi asked Delaney as she lifted the flap.

“Sure. I’ve got a minute. Your tent might be busier tomorrow when parents bring their kids.” As Delaney followed Jazzi inside, they both spotted Mathilda intensely studying her phone.

At that moment, Jazzi’s phone dinged, telling her a text had come in. It was from Oliver Patel.

“Oliver,” Jazzi mouthed to Delaney.

Delaney grinned broadly and mouthed, “Read it.” Then she crossed to Mathilda. Once they were engaged in conversation, Jazzi read the text.

Meet me at the bell tower at 8? I can slip away for an hour.

Jazzi wished she could be nonchalant about Oliver. But she couldn’t help closing her eyes, smiling, and seeing the Australian-born gastro pub owner in her mind’s eye. He was blond and blue-eyed with an accent she could listen to for hours. They hadn’t gone on an official date yet. But they rode bikes together in the early morning, weather permitting, or met for waffle breakfasts.

She quickly texted him back.

Yes. Meet you there.

As soon as the text made a swishing noise that it was sent, she questioned herself. Had her response been too fast? Did she seem too eager? Was this just a chance for him to see the ice sculptures … or more?

She consciously stopped the questions.

When she received a thumbs-up emoji, she smiled again.

Lights glimmered, shone, and sparkled everywhere. As Jazzi waited for Oliver at the bell tower that evening, popular music blared through tall speakers set up near Lake Harding’s shoreline. An almost-full moon reflected its silver glow on the surface of the velvet-black lake. The sky was cloudless, and hundreds of pinpricks of light were scattered across the blue-black dome overhead.

While Jazzi watched Oliver approach her, her heart skittered madly. Maybe it was just pumping harder to keep her warm in the cold. She sighed. That was doubtful.

Oliver was a perfect example of what a man should look like on the cover of an outdoor experience magazine. He wore a dark-brown leather bomber jacket with a shearling collar and probably lining. His short wavy blond hair, longish on the top ruffled in a sudden breeze. His leather gloves looked heavy and warm, and his black jeans fit him so well.

Her smile was wide as he neared her and gestured around the green. “This almost makes a bloke feel he’s at Disney World. All the lights … the fire dancers on the stage.”

Jazzi had been aware of dancers twirling rings of fire on a stage near the lake. The ice sculptures glowed from the placement of LED and fairy lights around their bases. Orange light seemed to flow from within the lion-face sculpture.

“Have you ever been to Disney World?” she asked Oliver. There was so much she still didn’t know about him though they’d had valuable sharing moments.

“I have,” he confirmed, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

At six-foot-two, he was a good six inches taller than she was. She caught the scent of his cologne or aftershave as she leaned into him slightly. He smelled like the cold night and mystery. When he looked down at her, the contour of his sharply defined jaw was softened by his beard stubble.

“After my parents’ divorce and my mom moving us to the U.S., she took me there as a consolation prize, I guess.”

Oliver’s Australian accent was heavy now as he spoke about a time that Jazzi knew was hurtful to him.

Changing the subject from himself as they walked by craft stands and sculptures, he said, “You must have visited Disney World when you lived in Florida.”

“We did. That was happy time. I especially remember our trip there before Dad was diagnosed with cancer. It seems happy memories are always interspersed with sad ones.”

Oliver gave Jazzi a side hug. “Do you wish you had searched for your birth parents sooner?”

The topic of adoption and the search for bio parents was a common subject in Jazzi’s life. Jazzi had met Dawn, her partner in Tomes & Tea, when she and Dawn had bonded at an adoptees support group in college.

“My life was happy and settled before Dad died. I knew I was adopted but never felt different from my sister. But after Mom moved us to Pennsylvania to be near her family—my aunt and grandparents—I had this hole in my heart I needed to fill.”

They walked in silence for a bit. After oohing and aahing over the exquisite sculptures, they stood for a while watching the fire dancers toss fire rings as if that was the most natural thing to be doing with them.

“How about a walk along the shoreline?” Oliver gazed at Jazzi with those blue eyes that seemed to see way too much.

“Sure.” At times she couldn’t read Oliver. Did he want private moments with her, or did he have something he wanted to talk about? They hadn’t “dated.” They hadn’t kissed. But she was relatively sure he felt the same attraction she did. Still, she’d been wrong about her first serious relationship. She’d transferred to her high school boyfriend’s college at his urging so they could cement their bond. But after she’d changed her life around for Mark, he’d dumped her. From that experience she’d vowed she’d never change her life for a man again.

The winter chill became more frigid with the wind off the lake. “Too cold to walk here?” Oliver asked.

“You know I like biking and hiking in winter as much as summer … walking too. I’m fine.”

“I’ll believe you until your teeth begin to chatter,” he teased.

She gave him a gentle elbowing to the ribs.

As they continued walking, she glanced over at him. “Are you clearing your head after a busy day at the Kangaroo?” With this type of weekend, diners would be lined out the door, waiting for a table.

“Clearing my head. Taking a break. But I also wanted to spend some time with you. Running my pub, you running your store, doesn’t leave much free time.” He paused, then added, “I got a call from Diego Alvarez.”

Jazzi was familiar with the name because in August, Diego, who was a well-known restaurateur, had judged the Gentlemen’s Bake-off. He’d also signed his book at Tomes & Tea.

“Anything important?”

Oliver shrugged. “I’m not sure yet.”

They walked a little farther. “I had some news yesterday from my pa.”

“Good news?”

“I’d say so. Pa signed on as a director of an animal rescue shelter in addition to his search and rescue work in Victoria.”

Oliver was pensive when he said it. She knew he’d liked living in Australia with his father in his college years. During his breaks he’d surf and scuba dive.

“Is this a job he wanted?”

“It is. The thing is he wants me to join him for a month. I’m thinking of flying over mid-March.”

When he’d lived in Melbourne, Oliver had spent time working with his dad for an animal rescue organization. “Can you get away for a month?”

Clouds of white puffed out of Oliver’s mouth as he spoke. “My manager is working out well. With video chats, I should be able to handle a problem in conjunction with him if it would crop up. Letting him take over tonight with me gone will tell me a lot. If the Kangaroo is in chaos when I get back, I’ll know he can’t handle it.”

“Do you want to go?” Although Oliver had spoken of his dad’s desire to have Oliver in Australia, Oliver hadn’t stated his interest in going.

“I’d be stoked to fly over there. I can never quite get enough of the place where I was born. Since my mum is a U.S. citizen, I could call both places home.” He paused for a beat. “And my dad isn’t getting any younger.”

Jazzi couldn’t see Oliver’s face clearly since they’d walked away from the lights on the green. Still, when he spoke, she could hear the happy anticipation in . . .