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

grandcat isn’t in much of a partying mood, but I’m taking him to the vet after work tonight.”

“I hope the vet can help him. Keep me posted.” His concern was a comfort. He was more of a dog person, but he and Phoenix had always gotten along well.

“I will. Thanks.” I straightened on my seat. “Has my gift arrived yet?”

“I’m sure it’ll come today.”

“That’s cutting it really close.” I rubbed the frown lines from my forehead.

“It’ll get here. Don’t worry. Worst-case scenario, it’ll be a day or two late. That’s not the end of the world.”

“No, I suppose not.” But it would feel that way. Their anniversary gifts included a framed photograph of Phoenix and me in front of our new home. Jo had taken the picture for us. I’d also bought them matching University of Georgia Bulldog sweatshirts, my nod to my new home. But I was and always would be a New York University alumna.

“You like Peach Coast, don’t you?” His voice was hesitant and concerned.

“I really do,” I assured him. “It’s a pretty town, and the people are great. I just get homesick now and then. I’m looking forward to you, Kay, and Clay coming to visit.”

“So are we.” He was beginning to sound distracted. It was almost time for his class to start. “And what about that other thing? Have you put it behind you?”

I sighed. “Dre, you said you wouldn’t walk away from a friend in need, either.”

“That’s different.”

“Why? Because you’re the oldest? It doesn’t work that way anymore, pal.”

“If anything happened to you, Mom and Dad would never forgive themselves—or me.”

I caught my breath. “Please don’t tell them.”

“Marvey, I don’t like keeping things from them.”

I laughed with incredulity. “Since when? I’ve been protecting plenty of your secrets, and they aren’t all from our childhood, Mr. My-Car-Was-Towed-And-I-Had-To-Borrow-Money-From-My-Sister-To-Get-It-Back.”

Dre blew out a breath. “Are you really comparing my borrowing money from you because my car was towed to your running around like some comic book superhero?”

I frowned at my cell phone. I wasn’t doing any such thing. Was I? “Please, Dre. There’s no need to worry them. I promise to be careful.”

He grunted his displeasure. Did he know how much he sounded like Dad when he did that? “I won’t tell them. Yet. Listen, I’ve got to go. Class is starting. Stay out of trouble.”

“I will.” …do the very best I can.

A weight settled on my shoulders as we ended our call. It was from more than missing my family and more than my worry over Phoenix. It also was from the worry I was causing my brother and the secret I’d just sworn him to.

Cecelia Jean Holt surprised me with a visit late Friday morning. Rule of thumb: it wasn’t a good sign when a member of the library’s Board of Directors bypassed your boss and found her way into your office. Even though I was Spence’s friend, something told me Cecelia wasn’t here to invite me to a surprise birthday party for her son.

Adrian had escorted the board member to my office. From his wide-eyed look, he didn’t believe there was a birthday party invitation in my future, either. His retreat was understandably hasty.

I circled my desk and offered her my hand. “Good morning, Ms. Holt. Please have a seat.” A whiff of her perfume reminded me of magnolias. The soft fragrance followed her to one of the guest chairs in front of my desk.

“Thank you, Marvey. I apologize for interrupting your morning.” In her slim, pale peach skirt suit, Cecelia brought to mind a young Diahann Carroll in appearance as well as style. She was several inches—perhaps half a foot—taller than my five-foot-three-inch height and fashion-model slim.

“Not at all. It’s nice to see you again.” I settled onto my chair, rolling it with me under my desk. I was so glad it no longer squeaked. That wouldn’t have made a good impression on the board member. “How may I help you?”

“My son warned me you had that New York style of getting right to the point.” Cecelia’s smile was warm and disarming, so like her son’s, revealing perfect, white teeth. There was a twinkle in her midnight eyes.

During my more than four months in Peach Coast, I’d learned to be cautious around those charming Southern smiles. “Please excuse me. Poor Spence has told me—on more than one occasion—people in Peach Coast like to ease into a conversation.”

“Conversation is an art.” Her voice was modest, almost apologetic. She placed her black purse on the empty armchair beside her. “How are you getting on, settling into Peach Coast?”

As my new neighbors would say, I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Cecelia Holt hadn’t come to my office for small talk. Whether in New York or Peach Coast, board members didn’t have time for that. I coaxed myself to relax and wait, but the New Yorker in me kept my guard up. “I’m settling in very well. Thank you, Ms. Holt. I was just telling my brother how charming the town is, and how friendly and welcoming everyone has been.” With the possible exception of Delores Polly.

Cecelia looked pleased. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you too.”

“That’s nice to know.” I struggled to come up with something else to say. I was from Brooklyn; small talk wasn’t my forté. I needn’t have worried.

In her slow, Southern style, Cecelia asked about my favorite places so far, where I’ve been and where I might want to visit next, regional foods I’ve tried, and restaurants she’d recommend. She finished off with endorsements for upcoming events I wouldn’t want to miss.

“I understand you and Spence are running the Cobbler Crawl next Saturday.”

Even the thought of eating a pie while racing made me queasy. “Yes, I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m sure you are.” Cecelia sounded amused. Had Spence told her about my digestive concerns? She took a visual tour of my office. What did my belongings reveal to