Under the Cover of Murder

Book 6: Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery

by Lauren Elliott

Genres: Animal Cozy Mysteries; Craft & Hobby Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

Bookshop owner and maid of honor Addie Greyborne vows to catch the killer who crashed her best friend's wedding . . .



It promises to be Greyborne Harbor's wedding of the year. The impending nuptials of Serena Chandler and Zach Ludlow will take place aboard his family's luxurious super-yacht, currently moored in the harbor and the talk of the town. But on the day of the wedding, a man's body washes up on the beach with no ID, only a torn page from a book in his pocket. As owner of Beyond the Page Books and Curios, bibliophile Addie is called in to identify the book, but she cannot.



The morning following the extravagant ceremony, a second body washes ashore and Addie has a sinking feeling that the two deaths are connected. While the guests are held on the yacht as the police investigate, at least Addie can peruse Zach's father's rare books library on board. A copy of Agatha Christie's first Hercule Poirot novel, The Mysterious Affair at Styles, provides a clue that the killer may still be on the ship—but narrowing down the suspects without becoming the next victim may prove a truly Herculean task . . .

Release date: March 30, 2021

Publisher: Kensington Cozies

Print pages: 322

Sample

Addie pulled her red-and-white Mini Cooper into a parking space in front of Beyond the Page, her book and curio shop. She leapt out and raced around to the passenger side, grabbed the two dress bags on the back seat, took a quick glance at the size tags, and snatched up the top one. She jerked and glanced back over her left shoulder at a frantic tapping sound against glass. Martha Stringer, her white head bobbing back and forth, frantically waved at her to come into the bakery.

Addie swiveled on her high heel and rolled over on her ankle. Her arms flailed, and panic surged through her. She made a grab for the side of her car to steady herself when she and her precious cargo made a beeline for the gutter. Her dress-bearing arm shot high in the air, wrenching her shoulder and sending a hot pain shooting up her neck. Addie grimaced but managed to keep the bag high and safely out of the reaches of roadway dust and grime. She inhaled deeply, stretched out her throbbing ankle, took a few more deep breaths or ten . . . hobbled up onto the curb and limped toward the bakery.

As she approached the door, her chest tightened, and she paused. The cake displayed in Martha’s window was the one her best friend, Serena Chandler, and her mother, Janis, had ordered for Serena’s wedding today. Right down to the antique cake topper of an early twentieth-century couple—one Addie had untreasured in her great-aunt’s attic. Who the topper belonged to was a mystery because as far as Addie knew, Anita Greyborne, her benefactor, had never married. Oh well, a mystery to solve another day. Today was all about Serena. This was her day, but it broke Addie’s heart to know the cake Serena had dreamed about was now preserved and placed in a window as a display. Addie shored herself up and stepped inside the front area of the bakery where she was greeted by a heavily perspiring Martha.

“Are you heading over to the yacht soon?” The short plump woman’s faded-blue eyes pierced Addie’s.

“Yes, why?”

Martha produced a large tray of petite pastries from the counter behind her. “Here, take these for me. Being as Saturday is my busiest day of the week, I won’t be there until later, and I promised Janis that at least one thing they ordered for her daughter’s wedding would be served.”

“Yeah, it’s really too bad that Zach’s stepmother, Veronica, went ahead and changed everything on the menu. I feel so bad for Serena. By the way, the cake you made looks beautiful. It’s exactly like the one in the pictures Serena picked out.”

“Just too bad it’s only window dressing now. Not hoity-toity enough for Lady Veronica Ludlow, I guess.” Martha harrumphed. “But at least the display has brought in three more wedding cake orders for the next few months, and I heard this morning that Bernadette Garland’s daughter was planning her wedding for next spring and there might be an order there, too.”

“It’s just sad that Serena won’t be the benefactor of your beautiful five-tiered creation.”

“Yeah, but it has helped boost my newest wedding cake line.”

Addie bit her tongue to stem the words she wanted to scream, retelling all that had taken place over the final preparations for this day. Even though she and Martha had resolved many of their past differences, Addie still wasn’t certain that her onetime nemesis was completely trustworthy. She dared not vent her frustrations only to have them used against her in some way. So, she settled for a nod of the head. “Yes, it’s too bad everything turned out the way it did, but I think Serena is coping with the changes well, don’t you?”

Martha snorted.

“What? Do you know something I don’t?”

“I saw the poor girl go in your shop as soon as Paige put the sidewalk sign out this morning, and she didn’t look too chipper to me.”

“Is she still there?”

“Haven’t seen her come out.”

“Oh dear, I’d better go see what’s happened today.”

“Don’t forget these.” Martha thrust the silver tray in Addie’s hand. “See you this evening.”

“Yes, thanks.” Addie balanced the large tray in one hand, trying not to crush Paige’s dress that she’d hung over her other arm, as she maneuvered the door open and headed next door to her bookshop.

She stopped long enough to admire the fairy lights around her window. The flower-covered mini-trellis, vintage bridal books, and classic romance novels painted a perfect wedding theme if she did say so herself. The smile brought on by the window display continued as she stepped inside and took in the heady scent of old leather and books, an aroma she could never seem to get enough of.

“Ta-da,” she exclaimed, holding the dress high over her head.

“Is that my dress?” squealed Paige Stringer, her assistant manager. She clapped her hands together, and her china-blue eyes lit up her face as her gaze took in the image of the marine-blue bridesmaid dress through the plastic garment bag.

“Yes, it is,” Addie said, and stepped toward her. “I think you’ll agree when you put it on that my cousin Kalea did a great job on all our dresses.”

“Did she manage to get rid of that weird pucker under my armpit that we noticed during my last fitting?” Paige’s voice reflected the concern in her eyes as she fidgeted with the plastic covering.

“She said she did, but she wanted me to let you know that she’ll be at the yacht early enough to make any last-minute alterations if she has to.” Addie limped over to the Victorian counter she used as a cash and coffee bar, set the platter down, and laid out the dress beside it.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you limping?”

“Oh, silly me forgot to change out of my heels after my fitting this morning, and I rolled on my ankle. It’s fine, though. It doesn’t look too badly swollen.”

“There’s ice in the freezer compartment of the fridge in the back.”

“It’s fine.” Addie pressed the dress flat on the countertop. “You know, for a woman who never showed a talent for anything other than landing a rich man, I think my cousin’s shop, Hudson’s Creations on Main, is a real hit around town. She does have a knack for sewing and design.”

“It makes sense though because she’s such a fashion diva herself, so I guess it turned out perfect for her when she bought that dress shop from my sister. She finally found her calling. Heaven knows working as a bookseller wasn’t it.”

Paige’s comment brought a chorus of belly laughter from them both, and then Addie’s elbow jarred the tray of goodies sitting beside her on the counter, causing it to teeter precariously on the edge.

Paige sprang toward it with the dexterity of a cat and snatched it before it tumbled off onto the floor. “Phew,” she gasped, as she eyed it while setting it safely back in place. “This looks too fancy for our midmorning snacks, so I’m guessing it’s for the wedding?”

“Yes,” Addie managed to burble as she choked back her last laugh brought on by the sight of Paige’s ninja-style rescue.

“Then you should know that I think there might have been a change of plans.”

“What are you talking about?” Addie croaked.

“I think the wedding’s off.”

“Did Serena and Zach have a fight?”

“Nope.”

“Then what?”

“You’d better ask her.” Paige jerked her head toward the backroom. “While you’re dealing with the latest crisis, put some ice on that ankle. I don’t want to have to carry you up the aisle.” Paige scoffed as Addie started limping toward the back room.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah . . .” Addie waved over her shoulder. She stopped at the door, sucked in a deep breath, pasted a smile on her face, and with all the grace of a chimpanzee, hobbled into the storage room.

For all her false bravado it only took one look at her friend’s tear-streaked face for Addie to crumple. “Oh hon, what happened now?” She collapsed beside Serena on a wooden book crate and wrapped her arms around Serena’s trembling shoulders.

“What hasn’t happened?” Serena sobbed and sniffled. “You were at the rehearsal and dinner last night. Did it look like the wedding party and family event I planned?”

Addie shook her head.

“That’s right because Her Highness, Lady Ludlow, had over a hundred friends she invited who weren’t on my wedding list for today, let alone for a small family dinner last night. All because she didn’t want them to miss out on the celebrations and was mad at me for not inviting them to the actual ceremony today!”

“If it’s any consolation, you looked beautiful, and everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves.”

“That’s not the point!” Serena barked, and rose to her feet.

Addie shrank back when Serena began pacing and wagging her finger in Addie’s face.

“I planned a nice quiet dinner in that private dining room at Smugglers’ Den after the rehearsal for the wedding. Then two weeks ago she informed us that she had canceled the reservation because she had something else in mind.” The shrillness in Serena’s voice rose to a fevered pitch as she mimicked her soon-to-be stepmother-in-law, “Don’t worry, it will be lovely. Trust me, I know what Zach really wants.” Serena leaned into Addie’s face. “How can she know what my soon-to-be husband really wants? As his stepmother, she barely knows or tolerates him.” She straightened and resumed her pacing with force. “No, this woman has gone too far. I should have known it would get worse, not better, when she put a kibosh on the reception venue we booked last summer.”

“Yeah, that was too bad. The community hall was perfect,” Addie said wistfully. “It holds so much history.”

“Right.” Serena spun toward Addie. “She walked in and took one look around, turned up her surgically created perfect nose, and said, ‘It’s too old.’”

“Of course it’s old. It’s a two-hundred-year-old stone building.”

“Can you believe she wasn’t impressed with what the restoration committee had done? Not even the period furnishings, polished planked floors, the beams, and the wood-paneled coffered ceiling could sway her. Nope, she said, ‘No son of mine will have a wedding reception in such a shabby outdated facility.’ Then she turned and walked right out.” Serena huffed and crossed her arms. “She even objected to using your house and grounds as an alternative. Nothing’s good enough for the high-and-mighty Veronica Ludlow, it seems. I know that crushed you.”

Afraid to look up at her friend and not certain the tirade was over, Addie nodded and wrung her damp hands in her lap.

“Yeah, but she rules the roost, and everyone kowtows to her. I’m surprised she did listen when I adamantly objected to her plan to have our wedding at their estate in Connecticut so my friends would not be left out completely. Apparently, it is her mission to bring a representation of the estate to us so her friends don’t have to deal with any less than they are all accustomed to. Who on earth has a supersize yacht the size of a cruise ship?”

Very rich people. Addie pursed her lips when she recalled what Serena had said when she first started dating Zach—that he and his family came from the poorer side of the Ludlow family. Though, she’d like to see how the rich side lived if that monstrosity of a yacht was considered poor. “What did Zach say about last night?”

“Nothing. He just squeezed my hand and told me everything would be okay. Yeah, it’ll be okay when I call off this stupid wedding.” Serena dropped back onto the crate and sobbed into her hands.

“Serena, you have to talk to Zach before you make any rash decisions about calling off the wedding. Maybe he can talk some sense into her, or his mother and father can?”

“He’s tried,” she choked out between sobs. “His mother is none too happy about it, but what can she do? The poor woman has been relegated to smiling and keeping her mouth shut as the new Mrs. Ludlow runs the entire event and his father . . . well, all he says is ‘everything will work out in the end.’ Like father like son, I’m afraid.” She wailed through renewed tears.

Addie drew in a quiet breath and waited for her friend to give some indication that the familiar rant of the last few months had burnt itself out. When no sound except sniveling and sniffles followed, she knew they had crossed another hurdle and reached over and pressed her friend’s hand into hers. “Do you love Zach?”

Serena nodded.

“Does he love you?”

Another head nod.

“What’s the most important conclusion of today?”

“To be married,” Serena choked out.

“Exactly, and even though most of your dreams of your perfect wedding were stolen from you, the outcome is one dream Veronica can’t steal.” She swept a chestnut-red ringlet from Serena’s face, tipped her friend’s chin with her finger, and forced Serena to look her in the eyes. “Now, you know as well as I do that when you get stressed or upset, your freckles pop out every which way.”

Serena’s hazel-brown eyes filled with panic.

“You don’t want to ruin the perfect picture of your big day with a blotchy face, do you?”

Serena emphatically shook her head.

“Good, my suggestion is to go next door to your tea shop. Make a big pot of chamomile tea, drink it all down, relax, and then go to the yacht for your hair and makeup appointment as scheduled, and no more talk of calling off the wedding.”

“Will you come with me just in case Dragon Lady strikes again?”

“I’ll be there for my appointment at two.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. You’re looking at the number one dragon-slayer, and I wouldn’t miss this day for anything, not even a fiery dragon lady.” Addie gave Serena’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Think you can go and relax for a while for me before I get there with my sword and shield?”

Serena nodded and stumbled out the back door into the lane.

Addie closed the door once Serena was safely inside her shop and hadn’t dropped to the ground to curl up in a fetal position. Addie banged her head repeatedly on the metal door and heaved out a heavy breath. “Give me strength to make it through this day.”

“Addie?”

“Yes,” she said, glancing at Paige, who stood in the doorway.

“I hate to interrupt, but . . .” She looked toward the storefront and smiled and turned back to Addie. “Marc’s here, and he wants to speak to you.”

“He’s here and didn’t barge into the back like he usually does?” She chuckled.

“I told him you were talking Serena off the ledge again, and he said he’d wait, but he’s doing that pacing thing, so I thought maybe it was urgent.”

“Okay, well she’s gone now, so you might as well send the next Chandler with pre-wedding jitters back.”

“He’s dressed in his uniform . . . so I think it might be official,” Paige said, waving him to the back room.

“Great. What have I done now?” Addie sank back down on the book crate. “Chief Chandler, what a surprise to see you this morning. Shouldn’t the brother of the bride be at the tuxedo fitting right about now with the other groomsmen?”

Marc loomed in the doorway and toyed with his police cap in hand. His honey-brown eyes darkened and he averted his gaze, studying the toes of his boots. “Addie, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come down to the station with me.”

“Can you at least give me a clue as to what this is all about?” Addie followed Marc through the bookstore to the front door.

“It’s a police matter,” he said over his shoulder.

“Okay, you’ve already said that much. Can you give me a hint what police matter you’re talking about?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“What? That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

He nodded but remained mute as he opened the front door, waited for her to scramble through, and closed it behind her. The fury and adrenaline coursing through her veins had diminished the throbbing in her ankle, and she no longer hobbled as she made her way to the curbside where he stood, holding the police cruiser door open for her.

Paige’s pale face was clearly imprinted with questions and concern as she stared out the bay window. Addie could only shrug her reply as she dipped her head and took a seat in the front passenger’s side. Marc got in, and his continued deafening silence screamed in her ears.

“Marc, what is all of this about?”

“I told you that we’d discuss it at the station.”

“Could you just give me a”—she pressed her thumb and pointer finger close together—“teeny-weeny hint now?”

He shot her a side glance under a creased brow.

“At least tell me if I’ve committed a crime I wasn’t aware of or broken one of this town’s archaic bylaws?”

His gaze fixed straight ahead as he turned the key in the ignition and pulled out into traffic.

“I admit that I did jaywalk the other day in front of the library but really . . . is this how Greyborne Harbor’s finest treats jaywalkers?” She glanced over at him and didn’t miss the telltale tic of his jaw, proving she’d struck a nerve. “That’s it! You’re actually arresting me for jaywalking? This is your sister’s wedding day, in case you forgot, and she fully expects me to be there in”—she glanced at the clock on the dash—“in three hours!” Addie crossed her arms and glared out the side window as he did a U-turn down the block and back toward Main Street and the police station.

Marc pulled into his parking spot around the back of the historic sandstone building. He got out and opened her door, and despite her pleading, she still couldn’t get a word out of him. He gestured for her to go ahead of him on the exterior back staircase and opened the door, steering her through the back room, around the reception desk, and into his office. After removing his cap and hanging it on the coatrack by the door, he sauntered over to his desk, took his seat, settled into position, and then motioned to the chairs in front of the desk for her to sit. She did, begrudgingly, while cursing him under her breath.

“This better be good.” She pinned him with a look as he folded his hands and laced his fingers together in front of him on the desk. “The only thing that either of us should be focused on today is your sister’s wedding.”

“I wish that were the case, but something has come up.”

“You said it was police business, is that right?”

He nodded.

“So, what is it?”

His eyes narrowed.

“It is the jaywalking thing, isn’t it? I knew it.” She sat back in her chair. “You’ve put up those surveillance cameras like they have in the big cities, and you’ve hauled me in here for a safety lecture?”

Without a word, he slid the top drawer of his desk open, removed a beige file folder, and placed it in front of him.

“You have a file folder of my misdemeanors?”

He shook his head.

“Then what is going on and why all the secrecy?”

“Addie”—his Adam’s apple wobbled as he swallowed—“I need your help with something . . . and I don’t know quite how to ask you.”

“How about ‘Addie, I need your help’? Did those words not come to mind ten minutes ago when you escorted me out of the bookstore?”

“Yes, but . . .”

“But what?”

“Since I’m always telling you to keep your”—his voice dropped to a whisper—“snoopy nose”—he cleared his throat—“out of police business, I wasn’t sure you’d accept my request.”

Addie sat back and folded her arms across her chest. He was right, of course. Why should she help him now after all the times he’d lectured her on keeping out of his investigations and sticking to what she, apparently, did best: sell books? She crossed her arms. If he wanted her help, he was going to have to work for it.

She masked all emotions from her face and fixed her gaze on his equally unyielding one. She waited. The clock on the wall behind his desk ticked off the seconds, and just when she thought she was going to burst at the seams with questions, he finally made the first move and averted his eyes. She did a mental fist pump. Once again, she had outwitted and outlasted the great police chief Marc Chandler. She hadn’t lost her touch with him, and she relished in the moment until he opened the folder and placed a photo of an obviously deceased man in front of her. Her celebratory mood shifted to one of instant remorse.

“Who’s this poor fellow?” Addie gazed at the grisly image and hoped she’d be able to erase it from her memory.

“That’s what I need your help with.”

“I’m not sure I can help you with this.” She pushed the photo toward him and out of her line of sight. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Why, am I supposed to know him?”

“I thought since you’ve spent more time than me on the yacht this week with all the cocktail parties and bridal teas Veronica Ludlow has put on that you’d noticed him on staff.”

She shook her head.

“Do you recall seeing him at the rehearsal dinner last night? Maybe he was a guest?”

She glanced back at the photo and then averted her eyes. “No, I don’t think so, but there were over a hundred people there last night. I could have, but nothing about him stands out to me.”

“Take a closer look.” He pushed the photo back toward her.

She pressed her eyes closed and counted. One . . . two . . . three. After quelling the churning in her gut enough to take another peek, she opened her eyes. “Is this from the crime scene?”

“Yes, he was discovered on the beach about six this morning by a man out walking his dog.”

“This looks like it’s not far from where the yacht is docked at the cruise ship pier.”

“Yeah, it isn’t far from there.” He tapped his finger on the image. “Does this look like the uniform that the serving staff on the yacht wear?”

Addie squinted at the photo. “I’m not sure. It’s definitely similar, but there’s something just off with it. If I could see the actual jacket, that would help.” She sat back in the chair. “It’s so hard to tell from a photograph.”

“Unfortunately, the clothing is in Doc Emerson’s lab over at the hospital. Simon’s examining it now for trace evidence. I thought I might get a head start on identifying this guy if you recognized him, but I’ve also asked Lieutenant Fowley to pick up the yacht captain to see if he can identify him.”

“Yeah, if the dead guy was on staff, the captain would be the one to ask.” She glanced back at the photo. “Does Simon know what killed him yet?”

“Early autopsy reports suggest it was a flare gun.”

“A flare gun? Can one of those actually kill a person?”

“When shot into the abd. . .