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

My heart ached for Fiona’s untenable situation. “It must’ve been horrible for her. Did she ever say anything to you about it?”

His shrug was restless, impatient. “I asked her about it once. Wanted to know why she didn’t call out Mama’s lies. She said she’d rather people thought she was spendin’ all of Daddy’s money than for people to see Daddy as a failed businessman.”

I frowned. “She obviously loved your father very much.”

Bobby hesitated. “She also didn’t want to have me hurt by people sayin’ unkind things about Mama.”

I glanced at Betty and found her hanging her head as though in shame. I returned my attention to Bobby. “Did you know Fiona was using her own money to prop up your father’s real estate business?”

Bobby slid a look at his mom before responding. “Yes, I did. I felt horrible for not defending Fiona. I didn’t kill her. I don’t think Ms. Jo did, either. But I do want whoever killed her to be caught and punished. Fiona deserves justice. She was a good person. I miss her very much.”

The emotion in his voice was sincere. So was the shame and regret in Betty’s eyes.

“I do have another question, if you’re up for it.” My voice was tentative out of respect for Bobby’s grief. His sorrow felt as though it had been building for quite some time.

He nodded. “What is it?”

I still hesitated. “What were you arguing about with Willy Pelt in On A Roll last week?”

Bobby’s features tightened. Anger flashed in his eyes. “Pelt wants Fiona to be buried in Beaufort. That’s not right. She had a plot right here next to my father. That’s what she would’ve wanted.”

I thanked Bobby, nodded to Betty, then left the store. Bobby had asserted he hadn’t killed Fiona, nor did he believe Jo had. It didn’t escape my attention that he hadn’t made a similar assertion about his mother.

“Your usual, Marvey?” Anna May’s greeting reached me from across On A Roll as I entered the cozy café before work Monday morning.

“Yes, thank you, Anna May. And a slice of your delicious peach cobbler, please.”

Even from halfway across the café, I could discern the twinkle in her eyes. I drew an appreciative breath of the fresh-baked sweets and chocolatey pastries. My comfortable cream pumps carried me closer to my café mocha with extra espresso.

“Good morning, Marvey.” Etta’s smile warmed her dark blue eyes. “I’m enjoying that women’s fiction novel you recommended to me. Thank you.”

I paused beside the tiny table the retiree shared with her café companion. “I’m so glad. Thank you for letting me know. You might also be interested in the sequel. If you’d like, I can reserve it for you at the library.”

Etta leaned toward me. “Oh, that would be wonderful. I’m almost done with this one.”

“I’ll set it aside for you.” I felt the familiar rush that came from spreading book love. Still smiling, I turned to her friend. “Good morning, Dabney. Is there a book you’d like me to hold for you at the library?”

“I don’t like fiction.” He made it sound like a dirty word. “I’d rather keep my feet grounded in reality.”

So far, Dabney was my greatest challenge as a librarian. “You know the library also has an extensive selection of nonfiction in a wide variety of subjects. You have an open invitation to stop by and browse through those sections.”

Dabney responded with a noncommittal grunt.

Undaunted, I boosted the wattage on my smile. “Enjoy the rest of your day.” As I turned toward the counter, I adjusted my Read, Renew, Return canvas tote bag on my shoulder, then fished my wallet from my oversized black purse. “How was your weekend?” I had the exact change ready for Anna May as I arrived at her cash register. Her T-shirt read No Kissing Before the Sipping.

“Busier than a moth in a mitten.”

Since I’d recently heard the phrase, I wasn’t as thrown by the imagery as I otherwise would’ve been. “What’s keeping you so busy?”

“The Cobbler Crawl is less than a week away. There’s still a lot of baking to get done.” Anna May handed me my receipt, then turned to prepare my mocha. “How ’bout yours?”

“It was nice. Thank you.”

“But don’t you worry now. I’m still making time to read.” She laughed. “Since you moved to town, I’m reading more books now than when I was in school.”

“Speaking as a librarian, that doesn’t exactly dampen my spirits,” I said dryly.

Anna May snorted. “Yeah, well, I picked up one recipe book from the library, then decided to buy it from To Be Read. It came in Saturday.”

I was listening, fascinated, to her description of a Coca Cola cake recipe—who knew there was such a thing?—from her new pastry book when Willy joined us.

“Mornin’, ladies.” He rocked on his heels as he looked from Anna May to me.

Anna May handed me my mocha and the bag with the peach cobbler before turning to frown at Willy. “You look like someone just licked the red off your candy.”

My eyebrows stretched up my forehead. I forced myself not to grab my cell phone to add her comment to my Peach Coast translation notes.

“I’m anxious to return home to Beaufort.” He sighed gustily. “No offense to your town, but I’ve got a business to run.”

“None taken.” Anna May spread her arms to encompass her café. “I run a business of my own. I can understand how you must be feeling. If the deputies held me over for a week, I’d be pitching a hissy fit with a tail on it.”

Pitching a hissy fit. That sounded familiar. I dug my cell phone out of my bag, launched my Notes application, and scrolled to the Ps in my Peach Coast to New York Translation List. In context, pitching a hissy fit with a tail on it meant Anna May would’ve been furious.

“So, where’s your better half?” Willy asked.

Looking up from my phone, I was surprised to find him watching me.