Murder by Page One by Olivia Matthews (read aloud txt) 📗

with shock. She stood with Adrian behind my matching gray cloth visitors’ chairs.

Adrian seemed to vibrate with excitement. A flush warmed his pale complexion. “The newspaper said you were one of the people who found the body.”

Viv’s curtain of raven hair swung above her shoulders as her head swiveled from Adrian to me. “That must’ve been horrible. Do you have any idea what happened?”

I straightened from securing my heavy purse and tote bag in my bottom desk drawer. “I don’t know anything more than what the Crier reported.” It was a little white lie, but I wasn’t going to help the deputies damage Jo’s reputation.

“I reckon there was blood everywhere.” Adrian’s blue-eyed stare locked onto me as though waiting for details—the gorier, the better. Horror was his fiction genre of choice.

The memory of Fiona’s lifeless body still haunted me. I gripped the back of my black cloth executive chair. “Yes, Adrian. There was a lot of blood.”

“But you’re probably used to seeing that, I reckon, bein’ from New York and all.” The recent college graduate’s smile faded at my expression.

I circled my desk, growing desperate in my need to put space between me and the news story stalking me. How was Jo handling this attention? “Contrary to the impression popular media gives of New York, there aren’t dead bodies on every street corner.”

“Aw, come on now.” Adrian waved his right hand nervously. “I was just pickin’.”

I turned to Viv. The native Georgian was kind enough to serve as my Southern language interpreter.

Viv gave me an empathetic look. “He was teasing you.”

I retrieved my cell phone from the right front pocket of my slacks and launched my Note app to add this latest phrase to my Peach Coast to New York dictionary. I inserted it alphabetically after both “aight now,” which translated to either “hello,” “goodbye,” or “I’m going to beat your behind”; and “nem,” which referred to a group of people.

Viv and Adrian accompanied me on my rescue mission to the employee breakroom. In this case, I was rescuing my coworkers by getting a second cup of coffee. Was it wrong to pour another cup while the memory of my café mocha was still so fresh?

“Good morning, Floyd.” I greeted our reference librarian as I strode past his workstation in the library’s main area. He’d been away from his desk when I’d delivered his peach cobbler.

“Morning.” The older man grunted his response as he joined us.

With his buzz-cut salt-and-pepper hair, winter-blue eyes, and querulous demeanor, Floyd was like a Bad Attitude Santa Claus. At first, I thought he was curt with me because I was new. Then I realized Floyd was curt with everyone. Period. His decision to work in a public library fascinated me, considering how much of our time was spent interacting with people.

At the coffee station in the breakroom, I fixed my second cup of java. To my right, Floyd shuffled his feet. I could feel his impatience. To my left, Viv and Adrian plied me for details I didn’t have about Fiona’s murder. I stepped aside, giving Floyd plenty of room to pour his cup o’ joe. The reference librarian drank his black.

The tap of sensible pumps across the linoleum announced our boss’s arrival. In her powder-pink skirt suit, accessorized with understated pearl earrings, and matching necklace, Corrinne Carpenter, the head librarian, looked like she was hosting a summer tea party. Not one strand of her chin-length, honey-blond hair was out of place.

Corrinne’s attention dipped to my pendant. Her green eyes shone with appreciation of the cover of Walter Mosley’s 1990 mystery Devil in a Blue Dress. It was the original image depicting a woman in a blue dress, not the reprint version, which capitalized on Denzel Washington’s starring role in the story’s film adaptation. I didn’t think my artistic skills could do justice to Denzel’s perfection.

“Marvey, how are you?” Corrinne’s forehead creased with concern. “I didn’t expect you’d make it in today after the horrible tragedy at To Be Read on Saturday.”

I liked Corrinne. She seemed genuine, but I’d only been working with her for four months. We were still in the honeymoon phase of our workplace relationship. “Yes, it was terrible, but I’m fine. Thank you. In fact, I’m looking forward to Spence’s dinner party tonight.”

Viv’s face lit up. “So am I. His dinner parties are one of the biggest social events in town.”

“So I’ve heard.” I wrapped my hands around my warm black porcelain mug. Printed in bold, white block letters was the statement Keep Calm & Read a Good Book.

Floyd gestured to the group with his mug. Coffee leaked from a hairline fracture in its plain white surface. “Kind of short notice, isn’t it? He’s hosted at least two of these things for us, one right before we opened and one when Viv came on board. He usually sends the invite at least a week in advance.”

“Yes, that did seem unusual, but even if I’d had plans for tonight, I would’ve canceled just to attend.” Corrinne shrugged elegantly as she approached the coffeepot.

I caught a whiff of her perfume, a light powdery scent. Smell was the sense most closely linked to memory and emotion. The right fragrance could get people to remember you favorably. In that context, Corrinne’s perfume was the perfect scent for someone in a leadership position for a nonprofit organization. It would be a very pleasant memory.

“What’re these things like?” Adrian’s shaggy brown hair fell across his eyes as his gaze darted from one library team member to another. He exuded excitement and anticipation.

Floyd grunted. “Bring your appetite.” In terms of Floyd-speak, that was an effusive compliment.

Corrinne stirred French vanilla creamer and four packets of sugar substitute into her oversized coffee mug. The head librarian’s sweet tooth was even stronger than mine. “Spence cooks the meals himself, and they’re fabulous. There are usually multiple courses. His home is lovely, and he’s a gracious and generous host.”

I braced my hip against the counter. “What’s the dress code? Is it formal?”