Murder by Page One Olivia Matthews (best e ink reader for manga .txt) 📖

He returned my smile as he straightened from his steel-gray hatchback. In his lightweight gray suit, sapphire shirt, and maroon tie, he looked camera ready. “Nolan doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

I started to respond to Spence’s observation about his friend when he opened the passenger side door for me. That was disconcerting. I was accustomed to opening the door for myself. I glanced at him before getting into his car. Having him close the door for me was even more disarming. I lost my train of thought.

“Thank you for coming with me to speak with Nolan.” I buckled my seatbelt as Spence settled behind the wheel and strapped himself in. “You said you’ve known him for decades.”

“We’ve served on a few community boards and organizations together. That’s how we became friends. He’s a good guy.” Spence pulled out of the parking lot and merged with the virtually nonexistent traffic on Peach Blossom Boulevard.

Through the side window, I gazed at the little stores, restaurants, and service shops that created the colorful scenery. They looked like they could’ve been transported from a Walt Disney sound stage. Even after four months, this shopping district still charmed me. Each building’s pale stone or brick façade was perfectly coordinated to complement the others. The landscaping was meticulously tended to tie the group of storefronts together. The result was a picture-perfect and cohesive small town business district instead of a collection of individual stores and enterprises. I kept waiting for the sense of enchantment to fade—and fervently hoping it never did.

“Nolan had a solo practice for years before he formed a partnership with Fiona.” I studied the clean, spare lines and angles of Spence’s profile as I spoke.

“You’ve done your homework.” He tossed me a glance before returning his attention to the road.

“Has he ever spoken with you about Fiona?”

Spence was silent for a beat or two as though searching his memory. “Nolan doesn’t talk much about his work. I think it’s out of respect for his clients’ and Fiona’s privacy.”

“I hope he’s able to give us information we can use to help Jo.” I returned my attention to the passenger side window. My gaze lingered on the view of the young sugar maple trees that edged the sleepy red brick sidewalks. “I checked in on her right before meeting you. Customer traffic at her store is still down.”

“It’s going to take a little while for people to feel comfortable enough going into the bookstore.” Spence’s voice was troubled. “It’s not just that someone died there—it’s how she died.”

“You’re right.” But I heard again the tension in Jo’s voice. Everything—the drop in business revenue, the police investigation, and the fact someone had been murdered in her store—was taking a toll on her mentally, emotionally, and physically. “I wish there was something I could do to help ease her stress.”

“You’re doing everything you can to clear her name.”

“We’re doing everything we can.” I studied his profile again. “I’m grateful for your company, and not just because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to find Nolan’s office on my own.”

Spence chuckled as he came to a four-way stop sign. “Is your sense of direction really that bad?”

I met his eyes. “Yes.”

Spence waited his turn before moving through the intersection. “How did you get around New York? It’s a hundred times the size of Peach Coast.”

“Actually, New York City is just a little more than twelve point four times the size of Peach Coast.”

He gave me a dry look. “I was exaggerating, Marvey.”

“But I’m serious.” I turned excitedly on my seat to face him. “I was surprised New York wasn’t even fifteen times the size of this town. I think the reason it appears so much bigger is New York City has greater than eight point six million people more than Peach Coast.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” His midnight eyes laughed at me.

I gave a mental shrug. I was used to that reaction from people who thought my attention to geographic statistics bordered on the obsessive. “I’ve always been interested in geography, especially distances and times. I’m fascinated by how far apart people are and what it takes to bring them closer together. I think that’s even more important to me now that I’m so far away from my family.”

“I can understand.” His response was sober. “I know what it’s like to be far from home.”

“I know you do. Going to school in California and New York. Those years must’ve been rough.”

“It was, although the experiences were worth it. I wouldn’t change a thing. But how did you get around New York without any sense of direction?”

I was still getting accustomed to Spence’s unsubtle change of topics when conversations drifted toward him. “I rarely drove in Brooklyn. I used public transportation or walked.”

I rarely drove in Peach Coast, either. I walked everywhere. Usually, Jo or Spence drove if we were going somewhere far or needed to get somewhere fast. Like this trip to Nolan’s office. I suspected we could’ve walked it, but since we were meeting Nolan during an early lunch break, time was of the essence.

Spence returned to my geographical challenges. “You definitely need to have a sense of direction when you’re walking. And I’m sure you need it to use public transportation too.”

“I suppose.” I divided my attention between our conversation and the scenery outside of Spence’s car. He’d turned off Main Street and into a neighborhood that was more residential than commercial. The trees were older here. “But it wasn’t a matter of whether I was traveling east or west. The directions were more like, ‘two blocks over or three blocks up or turn around you’ve gone too far.’ Anyway, I can assure you I got lost plenty of times in New York too.”

Spence slowed his car for a left-hand turn into what appeared to be either a very narrow, unnamed road or one of the best-maintained alleys I’d ever seen. “We’re going to have to do something to improve your