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

sense of direction. We can’t have you wandering around town not knowing where you are.”

“Don’t worry. I never stay lost for long.”

He entered a little asphalt parking lot behind what appeared to be a gingerbread house, relocated from a Hans Christian Andersen fairytale. It was surrounded by lush leafy plants and flowers, only some of which I recognized: chicory, Japanese maples, hostas and, of course, black-eyed Susans. They lured me out of his vehicle in search of fairies and talking birds.

“What are you doing?” His voice came from close behind me. He sounded startled.

Confused, I turned back to him. “Isn’t this Nolan’s office?”

“Yes, it is.” He glanced at it, then back at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was at a loss for words.

Now I was even more confused. “Shouldn’t we go in, then?”

“Well, yes, but…” Spence gestured toward his car. “You’re supposed to wait for me to open the door for you.”

I looked at his parked car, then back to him. “Why?”

He seemed momentarily thrown by my question. “It’s customary. Men open doors for women.”

He wasn’t joking. In fact, he seemed very earnest. I bit my lips to restrain a smile. “If only that was figurative as well as literal.” I turned toward the gingerbread house. “Come on, Mr. Spence. You said Nolan doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“I know you’re laughing at me.” Spence caught up with me. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Not for the first time, I regretted that my eyes were so transparent. My father always said I had my mother’s eyes. He called them “wide molasses pools of your every thought and emotion.” It was a poetic yet frustrating truth.

“I’ll tell you what.” I strode with Spence to the front of the building up the walkway to the entrance. “I’ll take the door situation under advisement, but I can’t really see myself waiting for other people to hold doors open for me.”

He reached around me to open the door to Nolan’s office building. “When in Rome, Marvey. When in Rome…”

Chapter 21

The administrative assistant for Duggan & Lyle CPA was an older woman whose cherubic peaches-and-cream complexion spoke of expensive moisturizers. She’d accessorized her warm gold blouse with a green-and-white patterned scarf. Pearl stud earrings decorated her ears. Her shock of golden-red hair was salon styled into a perfectly sculpted flip that sat on her slim shoulders. Her periwinkle eyes reminded me of Anna May Weekley, the owner and operator of On A Roll. Her nameplate read Lisa May DuVeaux. Surely her name and features weren’t a coincidence.

“Well, Mr. Spencer Holt! As I live and breathe. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Lisa May’s gruff voice boomed a greeting as Spence and I approached her desk late Thursday morning. “How’re you doin’? How’s your mama?”

Spence flashed his celebrity smile and added a wink. “My mama and I are fine. Thank you for asking, Ms. Lisa May. How are you and your family?”

“Glad to hear it.” Lisa May clapped her hands. “And me and my family are doing just fine and dandy. Thank you, Spencer. Although me and the mister aren’t ready to retire just yet. I’m fixin’ to work till the day I die, and then Nolan can just prop me up behind this desk and carry on.” Her laughter rolled around the room, full and infectious.

The brownstone was just as warm and charming on the inside as it was outside. Lisa May’s area must’ve been the home’s great room. Area rugs were positioned under her desk and the coffee table, which stood in front of the overstuffed armchairs in the waiting area. Their matching brown-and-gold patterns were echoed in the furniture upholstery, wallpaper, and doilies.

The peaches-and-vanilla scent that perfumed the air came from the bowl of potpourri on the coffee table. A selection of current magazines, including the University of Georgia Bulldog alumni magazine, was arranged alongside the bowl.

Spence gestured toward me. “Ms. Lisa May, this is my friend, Marvella Harris. She’s the new director of community engagement for the Peach Coast Library. Marvey, this is Lisa May DuVeaux. And in case you’re wondering, yes, she is Anna May Weekley’s sister.”

I smiled with pleasure. “I had been wondering. I really enjoy your sister’s coffee shop. I stop in every morning on my way to work.”

Lisa May blushed. “That’s mighty kind of you to say, Ms. Marvella. Thank you.”

“Please call me Marvey.”

Lisa May’s periwinkle eyes sparkled. “Thank you.”

Spence slipped his hands into the front pockets of his gray suit pants. “Is Nolan available? I’d called him earlier to ask if Marvey and I could stop by.”

“Oh, I’m sure he would just love to see you. He’d love it. It’ll help to lift his spirits after the tragedy with Fiona. Let me just double check.” Lisa May raised her left index finger. She used her other hand to claim her telephone receiver and tap in Nolan’s extension. “Hi, there. Nolan?” Her voice was low and empathetic. “Spencer and Marvella are here to see you. Do you have time to meet with them?” She paused. “Oh, good. Good. Then I’ll just send them through, then. Uh-huh. Bye now.” Lisa May cradled her receiver. “Y’all can go on up now to Nolan’s office. You remember where it is, don’t ya, Spencer?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” Spence nodded.

Her warm smile fanned out laugh lines from her eyes. “I just know he’ll be real happy to see you. He was just devastated by Fiona’s murder. We both were.”

“Were he and Fiona close?” I asked.

Lisa May looked to Spence as though expecting him to clarify my question.

Spence rested his right palm against the small of my back. “Marvey’s from New York City.”

Her confusion cleared as though those five words had unlocked the key to her understanding me. “Well, Nolan and Fiona weren’t exactly friends, but I could tell they just liked and respected each other as professionals, you understand?”

“I understand,” I said.

“Yes, well, they were real professional toward each other.” Lisa May folded her hands