“Oh, aren’t you horrible.” Maggie tugged his arm as Toby laughed.

  “That is something Alex always worried about. You clung to his side so faithfully that he felt a little guilty.” Toby patted her hand. “Wouldn’t he just be delighted gazing down from his heavenly perch to see his favorite gal Friday take an interest in his son?” Toby laughed again.

  “I think you’ve been drinking already this morning,” Maggie teased back, her cheeks flushing red.

  “Where are you off to, my dear?”

  “The police station,” she said.

  “Oh, I do hope my teasing hasn’t made you decide to turn me in to the authorities,” Toby gasped.

  “I should. But no. I just need to talk to one of the officers. After Mr. Whitfield passed, we had an accident at the shop.” She was happy to tell Toby about Bo, not because she was happy about what had happened but because she would have talked about anything to get off the topic of Joshua.

  “My, what a spell of bad luck,” Toby replied, clicking his tongue and shaking his head.

  “You said a mouthful, Toby,” Maggie said as they continued their walk together under Maggie’s umbrella.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to part with you here, my dear. I’m staying at the one and only bed-and-breakfast in town. Do you think the rain will ever subside? I’m stuck here until it does due to the bridges being underwater and Noah not having yet completed the ark,” Toby said.

  “I hate to tell you, but it’s not going to stop for several days. But that’s okay. Please come by the shop. I may not be as worthy an opponent as Mr. Whitfield, but I know where the chessboard is,” Maggie replied.

  “That sounds delightful. I’ll be by in short order,” Toby said before tipping his hat and heading off down Peterson Street in the direction of the bed-and-breakfast.

  Maggie waved and was glad to have chatted with Toby. He had been one of Mr. Whitfield’s oldest and dearest friends. They would spend hours talking together, debating, and laughing whenever Toby came to town. He travelled extensively, a man of adventure and knowledge. Well, maybe not so much adventure these days, as he was in his late sixties. But that didn’t seem to stop him from seeing the world. Last time he’d arrived in Fair Haven, he had been returning from Dubai. Prior to that, he’d been in Finland. What he did for a living Maggie wasn’t exactly sure. But whatever it was, it allowed him many luxuries.

  Chapter 9

  “Maggie Bell, the last time I checked, you didn’t complete training at the police academy,” Officer Gary Brookes said as they sat together at his desk. He was behind it with serious stacks of files to his right and his left. Maggie was in front of it with her hands folded in her lap.

  “I never said I did. But I ran into Ruby today, and she was acting peculiar.” Maggie wrinkled her nose.

  “You know, you are so adorable when you do that,” Gary teased.

  “Do what?”

  “Wrinkle your nose. You do it whenever something aggravates you. Like right now.” Gary chuckled. When he saw Maggie wasn’t laughing too or even the slightest bit amused, he cleared his throat and leaned forward toward her.

  “I’m being serious, Gary,” Maggie said.

  “I know you are. And I do appreciate your help. But if I were to run Ruby Sinclair in every time she acted unusually weird, I’d have the poor woman in here at least four times a month. She’s harmless,” Gary replied.

  “But you did see the fuse box. All the switches for that part of the building were off but the one Bo was working on. She was going on and on about flipping switches. With her condition being so severe, she might not have been able to help herself.” Maggie spoke quietly and barely let her eyes stray from the top of Gary’s desk to his face. She didn’t want to know if anyone was looking at her or listening to what she was saying.

  “Yes. I saw the fuse box. Let me ask you this. A person like Ruby, do you think she’d be content to just flip one switch in the middle of all those fuses? I think that would drive her crazier than not flipping any.” Gary shrugged. “But hey, for your first murder, it was as good a try as any.”

  Maggie smirked. “It’s your first murder too.”

  “Yeah, don’t remind me. So, how are you doing? You okay?” Gary asked.

  “I’m fine. Except that Joshua Whitfield made me order thirty-five copies of Autumn at Dawn to display in the window,” Maggie said, waiting for Gary to gasp in horror. When he frowned and shook his head, she huffed, “Never mind.”

  “Hey, if you think of anything else, just stop by. Or even if you don’t. I rarely get people to come in who don’t have some kind of complaint,” Gary urged.

  Maggie wrinkled her nose then remembered what he’d said and instantly stopped. When she looked at Gary, she couldn’t help but smile. He chuckled again and waved as she left.

  When she got back to the bookstore, her shoes were soaked. The weather had picked up in the last few blocks of her journey, and when she stepped inside the bookshop, Joshua was waiting for her as if she’d stayed out with a boy past her curfew.

  “Where were you?” he snapped.

  “What?” she replied back. She hadn’t even had a chance to fold her umbrella and stow it in the corner to drip dry.

  “I’m asking where you were. This place is scheduled to open in less than a week, and I need you here doing your job. If you are going to take an early lunch, then you need to let me know,” Joshua said as he shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Did we have any customers?” she asked with surprise.

  “No.”

  “Did someone come looking for Mr. Whitfield?”

  “No. I think I could handle someone coming to look for my father,” Joshua replied.

  “So no one came in. There were no customers. But you needed me here to handle the…?” Maggie shrugged before walking around the counter to take her usual seat on the tall stool.

  Joshua put his hands in his back pockets. “I’m sorry. I’m… not being fair. Things just aren’t going the way they are supposed to. But they never do. College. My marriage. Now this. What was I expecting?”

  Maggie suddenly felt bad not just for Joshua but for her behavior too. “No. You’re right. I should have told you I was running an errand. Your father gave me a lot of freedom. Old habits are hard to break.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Joshua smiled. “Believe it or not, he always talked about you in his letters. Ever since my mom died, I was really afraid for him being alone. But I don’t think he ever was. If it wasn’t you he was talking about, it was one of the old coots he sold his books to.”

  “Your father was very well liked. Everyone in town knew him,” Maggie said before feeling a sting in her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Joshua. She quickly busied herself by getting down off the stool and picking up one of the shipments of new books that had arrived.

  “Let me get that.” Joshua rushed to her side and took the box as if it was loaded with feathers.

  “Thanks,” Maggie said, still looking down as if she were checking for something else.

  “How’s the window coming?” Joshua asked.

  “It’ll be ready for your party. Don’t worry,” Maggie replied.

  “I’m not worried. Can I set the box on the window ledge?” he asked politely.

  “That would be great,” Maggie said.

  She walked over to the display window, which was partially covered with the sheets Joshua had stapled up for her. She stepped up into the display area and held the curtain back. Joshua joined her and placed the box on the window ledge. It held a small table and a chair and not much else.

  “I know it doesn’t look like much yet,” Maggie said quietly.

  “This is a nice little fort you’ve got here,” Joshua tried to joke. He stood straight and towered over her by at least six inches. Maggie could smell his cologne and liked the clank his tool belt made when he shifted his feet.

  “I might come back after hours and just sit in here and read with a flashlight,” she said, thinking her own idea of fun sounded extra nerdy at the moment. What did Joshua do for fun? He probably went rock climbing or extreme bicycling or something she’d never be able to do.

  “I’ll bring the sleeping bags,” Joshua chuckled, his smile wide and innocent.

  Maggie couldn’t say the idea of camping out on the floor of the bookstore with Joshua Whitfield didn’t sound like a small slice of heaven. She blinked as she looked up at him, and her cheeks turned bright red. After swallowing hard, she looked down at the floor.

  “I better get back to work,” she said and quickly stepped down from the display window to grab a box cutter from the drawer.

  “Yeah, me too.” Joshua cleared his throat and adjusted his tool belt. “These books will really make a difference.”

  Maggie couldn’t stop herself from grunting.

  “Something wrong?” Joshua asked.

  “No. You said to get these books and put them in the display. That’s what I’m doing,” Maggie replied with a crooked smile.

  “But you don’t think it’s a good idea?” Joshua pressed.

  “You are the boss,” Maggie replied and put her hands up. “I guess I just liked the books your dad suggested better.”

  “Tell me one,” Joshua replied, making Maggie freeze.

  “What?”

  “Tell me one of the books my dad told you to read,” Joshua said.

  He was shocked to see Maggie dash to the back of the bookstore and return with an old book with yellowed pages and red cover with gold-leaf lettering.

  “This is a first edition of Ian Fleming’s Casino Royale. James Bond. Now, I’m not really a big James Bond fan, but the movies all started here. I have to say, if your dad hadn’t forced me to read this, I probably would never have known who James Bond even was,” Maggie chirped.

  Joshua couldn’t help but notice how Maggie came out of her protective and grumpy shell when he asked her such a simple question about books. She smiled as she talked and looked around the room. But suddenly, as if she was reading his thoughts, she stopped.

  “I’m babbling,” she said.

  “No. I think I understand a little bit better what you were saying,” Joshua replied.

  “Well, here. Maybe you could try reading this.” She handed him the book.

  “Maybe I will,” he said as he watched her step back up into her fort.

  “There will be a test on it,” Maggie replied from behind the sheet. She heard Joshua laugh before he walked to the other side of the wall to continue his work in the café. She shook her head. Could she have sounded any more pathetic? There will be a test on it? Really?

  Chapter 10

  The next day, Maggie decided she was going to avoid Joshua as much as possible. He’d distracted her the previous day, and she felt she had made a fool of herself trying to be cute by showing him the old copy of Casino Royale. He had to think she was a big nerd, and even if he didn’t, she was positive there was no reason for her to try to impress him. He was nothing like his father, and that was too bad. But he was her boss, and if she was going to keep her job, she’d just do as she was told and keep the small talk to a minimum.

  “It doesn’t look like Joshua is going to tend to his father’s desk,” Maggie muttered to herself. “That’s probably for the best. He’ll just make a mess of things.”

  As Maggie started to go through the letters and invoices on the desk, she saw how very little money the store was actually making and how costly it was to keep open. Mr. Whitfield had never complained once about the money or even mentioned bills to her. He paid her faithfully every two weeks, with a small bonus each Christmas season. She wished she had known the true state of affairs. But it was too late now.

  As she rummaged through the first stack, she came across a letter from Toby. But what she read shocked her to her core. The nice old man she’d just joked and walked with, who had come to Fair Haven for Mr. Whitfield’s funeral, called him a cheat and a liar.

  * * *

  Alexander,

  It is with a heavy heart I even write this letter. The fact our decades-long friendship means so little to you of all people is like a dagger in my back. I’ve not asked you for many favors, Alex, and any monies I may owe you will all be paid in full as they always have been. I am merely asking you to help a friend in their time of need. But I should have known that there are certain things that test the boundaries of friendship. You wouldn’t even allow me to see the book on my last visit. Like my very gaze may take away some of its value. It was a sad day for me to discover my good friend to be a liar and a cheat. But mark my words, old man. Those things you cherish will not go to the grave with you. And no one will think anything of a friend requesting a few items to remember such a long alliance.

  You are a stubborn old man and will pay the price as Miser did. It will be at your funeral and no sooner that I’ll see you again.

  —Tobias

  * * *

  Maggie could hardly believe her eyes. And the letter was dated four months ago. It wasn’t as if it was a tiff that had taken place years ago and been resolved. This had to have been fresh in Toby’s mind when he was walking with her. He’d said nothing. He’d shown no remorse. In fact, he’d played along like a heartbroken friend who would have just come by to ask for one or two of Mr. Whitfield’s books, which Maggie would have happily given him.

  What was this about? If Mr. Whitfield had had a reason not to give away one of his books, she wanted to know what it was. And she was not afraid to confront Toby head on. But she couldn’t just up and leave like she’d done yesterday, and she didn’t want to go up to Joshua and ask. Her nerves jittered at the very thought of it. She’d just have to wait until quitting time.

  The hours crawled by. Maggie slit open the boxes to reveal the corny image of a young woman staring dopily ahead with the arm of a mysterious man around her and the title Autumn at Dawn in a tacky cursive-style font. It had the gold stamp of embossed letters stating it was a New York Times No. 1 Bestseller.

  Maggie pulled them out of the box as if they might be contaminated with some unknown germ. Without realizing it, she frowned through the whole process. But when she stood back from her display and looked at it, she was happy with how her vision was coming to life. And as much as she hated to admit it, she was having fun. She had always had fun when Mr. Whitfield was around. If they weren’t chatting pleasantly, she was allowed to read. What wasn’t to like about that? But a certain satisfaction came with a hard day of work.

  When she looked at the brass clock behind the counter, it was five o’clock. Without a moment’s hesitation, she stopped what she was doing, came out of her cocoon, quickly grabbed her purse and umbrella, and left, locking the bookshop door behind her. She couldn’t help but recall Mr. Sherlock Holmes in The Adventure of the Abbey Grange. “Come, Watson, come! The game is afoot! Not a word! Into your clothes and come!”

  Chapter 11

  With the horrible letter in her pocket, Maggie marched off, as angry as the rain that continued to fall steadily. The drops on the vinyl of the umbrella made a constant pat-pat-pat sound that mingled with the “sheesh” of the cars rolling past on the street.

  Fair Haven’s most distinguished bed-and-breakfast was a six-room Victorian house with a spire and a wraparound porch. Mrs. Antonia Scucci and her husband, Sal, had started the business out of their home after the last of their six children had left.

  Maggie walked into the foyer, folded her umbrella, and shook it out a little before leaning it against the wall with a couple others that were drying. She pulled open the etched-glass door and stepped into the parlor, where Mrs. Scucci was standing behind her counter. In all the years Maggie had known the Scuccis, she’d never seen Mrs. Scucci without at least a dozen gold chains around her neck. Her fingers were just as decorated, with rings on all her fingers. Her hair was dyed black, and her strong nose gave her an elegant Italian look.

  “Buonasera, Maggie.” Mrs. Scucci waved.

  “Hi, Mrs. Scucci,” Maggie replied. She quickly looked to the sitting area of the parlor and let out a quiet sigh of relief that there was no one else there. She and Mrs. Scucci were alone.

  “I’m so sorry about Mr. Whitfield.” Mrs. Scucci made the sign of the cross over herself. “He was a good man, God rest his soul.”

  “Thank you,” Maggie replied with a soft smile.

  “I see his son has come to town,” Mrs. Scucci said. “I also heard he is divorziato.”

  Maggie pouted out her lips and shrugged.

  “You want I should cook up an old Italian potion my grandmother gave me? It will lure him to you to love you forever.” Mrs. Scucci nodded.

  Maggie laughed. “No, Mrs. Scucci.”

  “Are you sure? It’s how I got my Sal.” Mrs. Scucci jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the door that led to their kitchen. “A lifetime of headache. Why would you say no to that?”

  Again, Maggie laughed as she leaned against the counter. “That’s okay, Mrs. Scucci. I’m wondering if Mr. Hodgkin is in?”

  “He’s a little old for you.” Mrs. Scucci frowned.

  “Are you serious? He’s Mr. Whitfield’s friend.” Maggie nearly choked on those words as she thought of the letter he had written.

  “He’s staying here, but he just left about ten minutes ago for dinner,” Mrs. Scucci said as she waved toward the door.

  Just then, a loud crash and a long string of Italian words came pouring from the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” Mrs. Scucci shouted as she turned and went into the kitchen.

  “I forgot the plate was hot!” Sal replied and then added a few more words in Italian.

  Maggie looked at the register in front of her. Quickly, she spun it around and caught a glimpse of Toby’s room number. He was staying in room four. After turning the book around, she quickly hurried up the stairs to where the rooms were.