Publishable By Death by Andi Cumbo-Floyd (free books to read txt) 📕

Now, I was missing her presence in the shop. Having her there made me sure of myself, confident that she’d have my back. But I took a deep breath, glanced over at Rocky, and steadied my shoulders. We had this.

We opened at ten a.m., and within moments, a few folks had come in to grab coffee from the café. No real book shopping happened on Monday mornings, I knew. Most of us had too much ahead of us in the week to think about reading, but I enjoyed the chance to catch up on the industry news, check out upcoming releases, and brainstorm a few ideas for author events.

I had a quirky notion for a “Welcome to Spring” celebration for late March, and I wanted to see if I might be able to get David Healey, a local author, down for a reading from his Delmarva Renovators mystery series. His books were set in my hometown, and I thought I could probably get a good crowd from there and here in for the event, especially if the restaurants in town might do a special something for folks coming to the reading. I got to giggling as I thought about how Max Davies might try to redeem his chewy snails.

I was so focused on how we could do a murder mystery party after dinner that I was surprised when someone cleared their throat just on the other side of the counter.

I looked up to see Sheriff Mason grinning at me. “You are enjoying yourself, huh?”

I blushed. “I am. Planning some events for the store. It’s really fun. Do you like mysteries?”

“Live them every day, so I’d say so.”

“Ah yes.” I closed my laptop and came out from behind the counter. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to update you on the investigation.”

“Oh, right. Okay. Do you want to sit in the café?” I scanned the shop. Just one woman browsing in the poetry section, so I was pretty sure I had a few minutes. Poetry readers are devoted, but the books weren’t our hottest ticket.

We took a seat by the garage door that I’d had converted to mostly glass, and Rocky brought us two cappuccinos – she knew the sheriff’s preference – with little flowers in the foam. “Very cute,” Mason said with a chuckle.

“Thanks. I figured you needed something adorable in your day.”

“Always,” he said as he took a long swig from the mug. “Delicious. This from that roaster down in Easton? – because it’s amazing.”

“Yep.” I had been thrilled to see that a local company was roasting coffee right on the Eastern Shore and had arranged to get all our beans from them. I liked to keep things as local as I could.

I watched Rocky walk back to the counter to wait on her next customer before I leaned over and asked, “Okay, so what’s the story?”

“Not much story, I’m afraid. You already knew Stevensmith had been hit and had probably come in here to hide. That’s still our best theory. We do know that she was clobbered with something that left a curved mark in her skull, but we still don’t know what that something was.”

I leaned back in my chair and sipped my drink. “Man, that’s not much to go on.”

“No. No, it’s not,” the sheriff scooted in, “but this helps.” He slid a little plastic bag toward me.

I picked it up and pulled it close to my face. “A piece of bright orange paper? Okay, fill me in.”

“I brought it by because I thought it might be a piece from a book cover, something that might give us a bit more of the story about Stevensmith’s steps that night.”

I scrutinized the triangular sliver again. “I can’t say as I recognize that color or that paper texture from any of our books or even from the little bit of stationery we stock.” I pointed to a spinning rack near the register. “I don’t think this came from here.”

He smiled.

“I thought you’d be disappointed,” I said.

“Oh no. If it’s not from here, then it’s from somewhere else, and that somewhere else might just be the murder scene.”

He scraped his chair back from the table and stood. “Thanks, Harvey. I’ll keep you updated as I’m able. But of course, you know I can’t really talk about too many