The Bookshop Mysteries

  A BITTER PILL

  S. A. REEVES

  Copyright © 2024 S. A. Reeves

  Published by Adventures in Writing.

  https://www.adventuresinwriting.com/

  https://www.sareevesfiction.com/

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Developmental / copy editing, and proofreading by Edioak

  Manuscript version 1.0

  Build date: 13th September 2024

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Paperback: 978-1-0687209-3-2

  Hardback: 978-1-0687209-4-9

  Ebook: 978-1-0687209-2-5

  This book is dedicated to our children Amy and Daniel.

  About the Authors

  S. A. Reeves is the pen name of a husband and wife writing duo, who have been married for over twenty years. They are based near the Peak District in Derbyshire (United Kingdom).

  They both like to read and watch murder mysteries, and will frequently stand in front of a whiteboard, plotting the perfect murder—for creative fiction purposes, of course.

  This book is written and presented in British English.

  This means for our readers in the United States, some words may be spelt different, such as favourite/favorite, behaviour/behavior, labour/labor, analyse/analyze.

  These are not spelling mistakes or typos, it’s just how us quirky Brits do things.

  Join the Reading Club

  The Bookshop Mysteries is set in a real town, Belper (Derbyshire) in the United Kingdom, and is set in real locations. If you would like to see what these locations look like, then you can join our reading club to receive a free book: The Locations of the Bookshop Mysteries.

  By joining the club we will let you know about new releases, special offers, and exclusive behind-the-scenes details about how we write the books.

  https://www.sareevesfiction.com/join

  Love the Bookworm Bookshop and Café? You can buy exclusive merchandise with the Bookworm’s logo, from mugs, bags, t-shirts, hoodies and more.

  Order from http://sareevesfiction.com

  or scan the QR Code.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Join the Reading Club

  Bookworm Merch

  Chapter One

  On an unusually pleasant spring day, the town of Belper awoke to the sound of the river Derwent whispering past the historic redbrick mill. Nestled in the heart of Derbyshire, the quaint little town looked like something gracing the cover of a souvenir chocolate box. Lush green hills and swaying meadows dotted the expanse, punctuated by cobblestone streets and brick houses. Belper was a portal to another, simpler time — a little pocket of countryside that the bustle of modernity had passed by after a brief sojourn.

  Against this quintessential rural English setting, The Bookworm Bookshop stood proudly in the corner of the marketplace, its wooden sign swaying in the May morning breeze.

  Inside, Gemma Curtis was a flurry of focused activity. Her brown hair was pulled back in an unruly ponytail, a few stray strands framing her face. With the sleeves of her jumper rolled up and her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, she darted from shelf to shelf with an air of orchestrated chaos, making sure they were presentable.

  “Morning, Ms. Austen,” she chirped, slotting a well-thumbed copy of Pride and Prejudice into its rightful place among the classics. “And what are we doing here?” she quipped to a cookbook that had somehow found its way amongst the murder mysteries.

  Over the next few minutes, Gemma carefully straightened a display of local history books, ensuring each spine was aligned with its neighbour. She stepped back, hands on her hips, proudly surveying her kingdom of paper and ink.

  Perfect, she thought, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. The Bookworm wasn’t just a business to Gemma. It was a labour of love, an oasis for fellow bibliophiles seeking refuge in the pages of a good story. This was her world, and she was its curator, its guardian.

  With a satisfied nod, Gemma slipped behind the counter, ready to greet the patrons of the day. After all these years, the gentle rhythm of each unfolding day was etched into her mind. She was familiar with each creak of the floorboards, each sigh of the shelves. And today, like every day, she would preside over the rustle of turning pages, the gentle chatter, and the hum of the coffee machine whipping up espressos and lattes in the café.

  Perched on a high stool next to Gemma was Mavis Rawlings, her shop assistant. Steam curled up like smoky tendrils from the mug of Earl Grey that she cradled in her hands. The comforting aroma mingled with the musty perfume of books, and a whiff of lavender from Mavis’s cardigan.

  “Busy day ahead, dear?” Mavis asked, looking at Gemma over the rim of her cup.

  “I hope so,” Gemma sighed. At that moment, the shop door chimed open. A tall figure sauntered in, casting a long shadow across the polished hardwood floor. The man approached the nearest shelf and began browsing through it with a casual air. His fingers skimmed over the worn spines, never quite committing to extracting one and opening its cover.

  “He’s been here before. Bought nothing. Just watch,” Gemma muttered out of the corner of her mouth, rearranging a pile of bookmarks on the counter. “He’ll do his little dance, pretend to be interested, and then leave without spending a penny.”

  Mavis leaned in, observing the customer over the top of her spectacles. “You think he’s one of those internet chaps? Buying books online?”

  “Without a doubt,” Gemma said with a wry smile. “He considers the shop more of a showroom. It’s all about the instant savings for him, not the actual experience.”

  They watched as the man paused, his head tilted slightly, eyeing a new release that Gemma had strategically placed to catch the light. The book was a recent bestseller that was still quite the rage, but she knew better than to hope for a sale on this occasion.

  “Such a shame,” Mavis clucked her tongue. “They miss the whole point, don’t they? The feel of the pages, the smell of the paper, the triumph of a good browse ending in a find...” She shook her head.

  As the customer continued his search, Gemma thought about new ways to entice readers into her store. There had to be a way to remind people of the wonder and charm of buying books the old-fashioned way. She was determined to find it.

  Mavis rose from her seat with the easy grace of a woman who had spent years perfecting the art of customer service. She approached the man with a gentle smile, her steps soft and measured against the creaky wooden floor, and peered up at him through glasses that had slipped down her nose.

  “Can I help you find anything?”

  “Just browsing, thanks,” the man replied, not bothering to take his eyes off his phone.

  Mavis was undeterred. Her voice became even more warm and inviting. “If you decide on something, we have a special offer.” She gestured towards a sign on the counter. ‘Buy a book, and you get a discount in our café. Spend £20 or more, and there’s a voucher for a hot drink of your choice!’

  “Thanks,” the man said with a hint of surprise, as if the notion of additional value beyond the digital realm hadn’t occurred to him. But it wasn’t to be. He simply bestowed Mavis with a noncommittal nod before turning back to the shelf, and the indifferent ballet between thumb and screen resumed.

  With a sigh, Mavis returned to her post. “Well, I tried!”

  “Your efforts are always appreciated,” Gemma said with a reassuring smile. “He might not bite today, but others will. And it’s those customers we open the doors for every morning.” Mavis nodded absently. Her gaze was fixed on the rows of books that lined the walls.

  But Gemma herself was far from reassured. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter, her knuckles turning white as she watched the man tapping into his smartphone. He was oblivious to the world around him, completely absorbed by the screen.

  Suddenly, Gemma noticed The Bookworm’s blue price sticker on the book the man was holding, and then, her heart sinking, noticed the same title illuminated on his phone. “Mavis,” she whispered urgently, “he’s g
oing to do it right in front of us!”

  “Surely not,” Mavis replied, adjusting her spectacles as if they’d let her see the man’s intentions more clearly.

  But Gemma’s prediction unfolded with the inevitability of a well-thumbed novel reaching its climax. Her eyes narrowed as the man’s thumb hovered, hesitated, and after a minute’s deliberation, pressed “buy”.

  The man pocketed his phone and gave them a grin. “Thank you!” he said brightly. His insincerity stung more sharply than the lost sale. With a casual wave, he stepped out into the sunlit street, and disappeared from view.

  “Cheeky so-and-so,” Gemma muttered under her breath. Her brows were knit together in frustration as the door swung shut, the bell jingling.

  “Typical!” Mavis sighed, her usual enthusiasm dimmed by the encounter. “It’s like we’re running a showroom for the internet!”

  “Exactly!” Gemma exclaimed. “And it’s hitting our sales hard.” She leaned back against the counter, her mind racing through inventory lists and profit margins. “We need to brainstorm, Mavis. We need some fresh ideas to keep this place afloat.”

  “Something to make us stand out,” Mavis echoed, reaching for her tea. She cradled the mug for comfort and inspiration. “After all, there’s no substitute for a good old-fashioned browse and natter!”

  “Right! Let’s put our heads together. If there’s one thing The Bookworm is full of, besides books, it’s creativity!”

  And with that, they each took a determined sip of tea, the gears of innovation beginning to turn in their heads.

  Chapter Two

  Gemma twisted the lock into place with a resolute click, and flipped the sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’. It was the end of another underwhelming day for The Bookworm. Inside, Mavis was wielding a broom like a seasoned dancer. Sarah Hastings, a fresh-faced young woman in her mid-twenties was meticulously making the tables gleam for tomorrow’s customers.

  “Could we have a quick chat?” Gemma asked, her voice cutting through the quiet clinking and sweeping that was their usual closing-shop routine. Mavis nodded without hesitation, leaning her broom against a bookshelf.

  “I’ll make some cappuccinos,” Sarah offered. She abandoned her cloth mid-swipe, and loaded coffee beans into the espresso machine. In a few minutes, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Sarah deftly poured out three cappuccinos, and topped them with foam as soft as clouds. The trio sat at a table with their drinks.

  “Business hasn’t been what I hoped,” Gemma began once they were settled, the warm cappuccinos cradled in their hands. “We really need some fresh ideas to draw people in. And fast.”

  Mavis made the first suggestion. “My dear, I don’t really need the salary, you know. The pension covers me well enough, and besides, I also have the money Fred left me. And this,” she gestured at the shelves, “fills my days. I’m here because I don’t want to be rattling around the house by myself every day. The money doesn’t matter to me, you know…”

  Gemma quickly shook her head, the lines of worry on her forehead deepening. “Mavis, you’re a gem, but I just couldn’t…” The very idea of it was against her principles.

  “Keep it in your back pocket, my dear,” Mavis urged. “No offence would be taken!”

  Gemma gave a grateful smile, unable to form words. For a few minutes, the three of them sat in quiet contemplation, nursing their drinks. Gemma knew the value of every individual’s contribution. After all, it was at the heart of The Bookworm’s charm, its identity. But while the offer touched her deeply, it was one she simply couldn’t accept — not yet, anyway.

  Sarah leaned back in her chair, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “What if we were to rebrand ourselves a bit? Picture this,” she said with a flourish. “Instead of calling the shop The Bookworm Bookshop, how about changing it to The Bookworm Bookshop and Café, or The Bookworm Café and Bookshop? It’s catchy, don't you think? Makes it obvious that we are a café and a bookshop. Right now, people may not realise that they can pop in just for a cuppa and some cake. It might increase the footfall!”

  Gemma tilted her head, considering the suggestion. The idea had merit. People would come in and patronise the café even if they didn’t want to buy books, which would be good for business.

  Yet, the thought of her beloved bookshop being relegated to second place behind lattes and lemon drizzle cake made her stomach twist. “It’s really not a bad idea Sarah, but… well, I’ve always seen us as a bookshop first, and a café second,” Gemma admitted, the words leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

  “Fair point,” Sarah conceded with a slight pout. “But it might get more people through the door, you know? Branding is everything these days.”

  “You’re right. I will give the idea some serious thought,” Gemma sighed, chewing on her lower lip.

  Silence settled over the three of them as Gemma grappled with the weight of making a decision. Suddenly, Mavis’s soft voice sliced through the air, like a knife through one of Sarah’s Victoria sponges.

  “I’ve got it! What about inviting a writer into the store for an event? A reading and signing? That Dominic Westley, for instance. His book Paper Boats in the Monsoon was quite the hit. And well, people love a local celebrity!”

  “Dominic Westley?” Gemma repeated, her brows furrowing. She pictured the suave author whose face had lately been plastered all across The Guardian’s literature section. “That... could work. We have sold quite a few of his books recently.”

  “Exactly!” Mavis clapped her hands, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “People will come for him, stay for the books — and while they’re at it, grab a coffee or a slice of cake. We’ll sell out before you can say ‘bestseller’!”

  Gemma couldn’t help but smile at Mavis’ infectious enthusiasm. It was a brilliant idea, and it offered something more than just a temporary fix — it was an event, a new experience. She could practically see the shop buzzing with eager readers, the cash register humming with sales. Hosting these events regularly could be a great business idea.

  “Fantastic idea, Mavis! Let’s do it! If we can get Dominic Westley here, it could be a turning point for us!”

  A faint hiss cut through the excitement.

  “Sarah?” Gemma turned to look at the young woman. “You don’t seem thrilled. What’s the matter?”

  Sarah set down her cappuccino, the froth still clinging to the rim. “Well, it’s a great idea, and I can see it working for us in the long run but…” She sighed. “Well, it’s just that that Dominic Westley is a bit, how do I phrase it, full of himself. Ever since that Guardian review, he struts around Belper like a peacock, all designer jeans and turtlenecks.” Her nose wrinkled as if she’d caught a whiff of something sour. “One of my friends knows him, and he’s really quite arrogant in person. The success has gone to his head.”

  Gemma nodded. She couldn’t dispute the gossip. “True, he may be a little full of himself — but we can’t ignore the fact that he’s sold a mountain of books. And let’s face it, he’s the closest thing to a celebrity we’ve got here in Belper. Well, apart from that lady who acted in Coronation Street.”

  Mavis spoke up, her voice carrying a note of practicality. “I live near him, off Sandbed Lane. I could pop over and ask if he’s interested. We’ve got nothing to lose, after all. And ego or not, I’m sure he would love the idea of reading to his fans.” Her words seemed to sweep away any lingering doubt the other two had.

  “That would be marvellous, Mavis!” Gemma shot her a smile. “If he agrees, I’ll order another box of his books straightaway!”

  “Actually,” Mavis added, “we could sweeten the deal for customers. Buy a copy of Paper Boats in the Monsoon and get a 10% discount on any other book, along with the usual café discounts!”

  “Fabulous!” Gemma clapped her hands in excitement. “This could be the first of many events we host here. Why didn’t we think of this sooner?” This idea had truly roused her spirits – The Bookworm was going nowhere without a fight!