Publishable By Death by Andi Cumbo-Floyd (reading like a writer TXT) 📖

I spent the next morning arranging the new books on the front table. New release day was quickly becoming my favorite day of the week. I loved all those new covers, and the smell – all fresh wood and ink. It always took me back to the construction sites in my childhood neighborhood. Ours was one of the first houses built, but soon, new homes were going up everywhere. I spent many an afternoon climbing around on second floors that just had the studs up for walls and savoring the smell of all that fresh timber.

Cate and Henri, the weaver from the co-op, came by mid-day and brought the most amazing curry soup – sweet potatoes, coconut milk, and just enough heat to make my nose tingle. I ate three bowls. We sat on stools behind the register and gobbled down the goodness. Henri had just started a catering business, and she had asked Cate to help her find people to sample her wares. I told the stellar cook that if everything was this good, I’d sample anything . . . and use her to cater bookstore events once I had more cash flow.

“I’d love that,” Henri said. “Plus, I know Rocky and her mom Phoebe from church. Maybe we could coordinate together – they do the sweets, I do the savories.”

“I’m getting hungry all over again at just the thought.”

“Alright, back to work with me. Thanks for being a taste tester, Harvey.”

“Thank you. Come by anytime, especially if you bring snacks.” Henri waved as she headed out.

Cate helped me clean up the lunch trash and said, “I have to admit, I had another motive for stopping by.”

“You’re looking for the friends and family bookstore discount?” I looked at her out of the corner of my eye as we tucked our stools back against the counter.

“Well, no, but let’s come back to that,” she chuckled. “Actually, it’s about the murders.”

“Ah,” I said. “Most things are these days. What’s up?”

“Well, I was in Elle Heron’s stand the other day to pick up some roses Lucas needed for a museum event. Elle had gone into the back to get the flowers, and I was just standing around by the counter. I happened to notice a stack of newspapers, so I picked up the top one. It was from a few years ago, which I thought was odd. Who keeps old newspapers?”

I nodded. I knew a few people, but their houses kind of looked like those mazes they force mice to run through in laboratories.

“I got curious, so I rifled through the rest of the papers. All of them were old, some of them from a decade ago. I couldn’t stop myself, and I flipped through a few of the papers. You won’t believe what I found?”

“A baby otter? No, wait, the secret for turning lead into gold? No, wait, this has to be it – articles?”

Cate snickered. “Alright, smarty pants. Yes, articles. But the interesting part was which ones were highlighted.”

Ah, now I was interested. “Which ones?”

“Every article by Lucia Stevensmith.”

“Every article? That’s a lot of articles. The woman was verbose to say the least.”

“Yep, pretty much an article on every page had one or more headings highlighted in yellow.” Cate sounded pleased with herself, and I couldn’t blame her. This was very intriguing.

“Anything else you noticed?”

“Nope, Elle came back, and I didn’t want to get caught.” She paused. “I don’t really know why. It just felt like she might be embarrassed for someone to be snooping through her papers.”

I nodded. “Right, especially when you’ve marked every article a murdered woman ever wrote.”

“I know, right? That’s why it seemed a little suspicious to me.”

I wasn’t sure suspicious is the word I’d use, but it was definitely odd and worth further exploration. “Thanks, Cate. I appreciate you telling me.”

“Think I should tell the sheriff?”

“That you found some old newspapers with articles highlighted? Nah. I’ll look into it.”

“Harvey.” Her voice was low and foreboding. “What about being careful? Stephen and Walter made me promise.”

I tried to give my most innocent look by batting my eyelashes. “I’m not doing anything dangerous, just going to talk to another storeowner.”

Cate squinted at me. “Sure. Sure.” She picked up her purse. “Want to go now? I actually need to get more baby’s breath, so it’s a great excuse.”

I took a look around the store. A couple of browsers, but nothing Rocky couldn’t handle. I ran over to the café and checked to be sure she was okay to manage things for a bit, got her okay, and rushed back. “I have thirty minutes.”

“Let’s not dawdle then.”

Elle’s stand smelled like chrysanthemums. It was a smell I loved, even though I resented the flowers themselves a bit. In high school, secret admirers always gave out mums on Valentine’s Day. I’d never gotten a single flower. It was easier to blame the bloom than the people.

“You’re back,” Elle said as she came out from the cooler. “Forget something?”

Cate stepped to the counter. “Actually yes. I need more baby’s breath. Right now, we look like we’re throwing a proposal party in the museum conference room. I need to lighten the intensity a bit.”

“Well, then I don’t know if baby’s breath is the way to go. Too much like a boutonniere.” Elle put her hands behind her head and looked up at the ceiling. “What if you did small daisies instead? I just got a big bunch in, and they’re not only pretty but they’re cheap.”

“Perfect,” Cate said. “Harvey, do you want something for the store?” She kicked me in the shin as she spoke.

“Um, what? Oh yeah, for the street fair actually. I mean, I don’t want to get into your sales territory or anything, but I did think I’d put some small vases around the shop and café for Sunday. Have anything that would work?”

“Hmmm. You’re thinking about using those antique bottles you used for the grand opening, right?”

“Good memory,” I said. I’d collected old bottles from junk stores for weeks and then used them as vases for the shop. Unique and cheap. “Yeah, so something that looks good with a short stem.”

“I suppose dandelions won’t work,” she said with a grin.

“I’m not opposed, but I’d rather not have everyone blowing seeds around the shop on day three. Way too much sweeping for me.”

“Fair enough.” She tapped a finger against the clear frame of her glasses. “What about hyacinths? Totally seasonal, very hardy, perfect size.”

“I love it. Maybe forty to fifty stems?”

“You got it. I’ll bring them over Saturday if that suits.”

She started to head back to get Cate’s daisies, but before she went, I said, “So these murders, huh?” I felt like a bonehead – how obvious could I be? – but it was the best I could do on the spur of the moment.

Cate wandered off to look at the arrangements in the cooler, presumably to take away a bit of the pressure and make it seem less like I was interrogating Elle. I was grateful.

“Gracious. Just awful.” She pressed both hands down on the counter. “I know that everyone says this, but I can’t believe someone was murdered in our town.”

I nodded. I couldn’t believe it either. Somehow it had been easier to take in a murder in San Francisco. Not easy, of course, but easier. I guess I expected it more there. “Tell me about it.”

Her head jutted up. “Oh, and it happened in your shop. Here I am thinking about the reputation of our town, and you had a murder happen in your new store. How awful!” She came around the counter then. “How are you?”

I felt tears threaten, but I didn’t think I’d get much information if I was crying. “It’s been a hard couple of weeks, to