The Book Stops Here

I gasped. It was the last thing I’d expected to hear. Grizzly was freed last night. Now Lug Nut was free. And I was terrified. “How? Why?”

 

 

Derek’s jaw was so tightly clenched, I thought it might shatter. “His lawyer petitioned the court. Claimed there was nothing linking him to Vera’s murder. No fingerprints, no evidence, nothing. So the judge told the police to let him go.”

 

I had to sit back in the passenger’s seat and catch my breath. “B-but he attacked me. He hurt Benny. He threatened to kill Vera. He did kill Vera. He’s a vicious criminal.”

 

Tears welled up and I had to blink them away. I hated this damn case and those two horrible brothers. I felt so helpless and stupid and . . . scared.

 

“The police have found nothing to tie him to the flower-shop killing,” Derek reiterated with deadly calm. “And his attack on you is a separate case. A lesser crime. He was eligible for bail on that one, and he got it.”

 

“I’m scared,” I admitted. “And I hate the feeling.”

 

Derek reached for my hand and gripped it during the rest of the drive. The expression on his face was lethal. I’m glad it wasn’t directed at me. But if I were Grizzly and Lug Nut Jones, I would be packing up and heading out of town in a hurry.

 

? ? ?

 

Early the next morning, the phone rang.

 

“Who in the world could that be?” I said in mock surprise as I sipped my coffee.

 

The phone was closest to Derek, so he answered and put it on speaker. “Inspector, what a pleasant surprise.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Look, I’ve got good news and—”

 

“Wait,” I said. “I can’t handle any more bad news.” We had been enjoying toasted bagels and cream cheese with our eggs and onions, but I was afraid I was about to lose my appetite.

 

And that would be bad news, in my book.

 

“Nope, no bad news—promise,” she assured me. “I was going to say, I’ve got good news and you’re going to want to hear it.”

 

“Let’s hear it, then.”

 

“Hope you’re sitting down.”

 

I gave Derek a quizzical look. “We’re sitting.”

 

“Lawrence Jones,” she began, “also known as Larry Jones, also known as Lug Nut Jones, was shot and killed early this morning during the commission of a crime.”

 

I shook my head slowly. “What?”

 

“Is this true, Inspector?” Derek asked, to be sure. I was glad to know I wasn’t the only one shocked by the news.

 

I sagged in my chair, truly stunned. I couldn’t call it good news that someone was dead, but I knew I wasn’t sorry about it. Lug Nut Jones had made my life a living hell. Still, karma was a bitch. He got parole when he shouldn’t have and ended up dead for his trouble.

 

Unfortunately, his meaner, uglier brother, Grizzly, was still around to carry on the family business. And somehow I knew that he would be more determined than ever to terrorize anyone he might blame for his brother’s death.

 

“It’s true,” Inspector Lee said. “I thought you’d be throwing confetti.”

 

“We’re a bit gobsmacked at the moment,” Derek admitted. “How did it happen, Inspector?”

 

“He was caught burglarizing a home over in Belvedere. The owner heard a noise, got out of bed, and found Jones crawling out a window, and shot and killed him.”

 

Derek and I stared at each other in disbelief. Finally, he said, “Pardon me, but did you say Belvedere?”

 

“Yeah,” she said. “Not my jurisdiction, but I was contacted when the cops on the scene discovered Jones’s connection to my murder investigation.”

 

I sighed. “Did it happen to be the home of Edward Strathmore?”

 

“Ah jeez, Wainwright,” she said. “You know I don’t like it when you’re privy to little details like that.”

 

“I know,” I said with a rueful smile. “And I’m sorry. But I know Edward Strathmore. I was at his house a few days ago. He owns a book very similar to the one Vera had.”

 

“The Secret Garden,” she said.

 

“Yes,” I said, pleased that she remembered the book. “He’s a big book collector. I needed him to authenticate a signature in the book, so I drove out to his place last Sunday.”

 

“I’d call that a remarkable coincidence.”

 

“Which means it’s no coincidence at all, right?”

 

“Right,” she said. “Looks like I’ll be paying a call on Mr. Edward Strathmore.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

 

 

After breakfast, Derek closed himself off in the second bedroom office to get a few hours of work done.

 

I jogged down the hall to return a plate to Alex. She had surprised us the other morning when she appeared at our door with breakfast cupcakes.

 

Bacon-and-pancake cupcakes.

 

I had raised a cynical eyebrow when she told us, and Derek was even more skeptical. But once we tasted them, we were sold. The cake portion had been made with pancake batter mixed with maple flavoring and chunky bits of savory bacon. Extra bacon and maple syrup had been added to the frosting and thick chunks of bacon were crumbled on top. Besides being tasty, they were pretty, too. The woman was a genius.

 

Alex answered the door, dressed for work in another fabulous suit with skyscraper heels.

 

“You look sensational,” I said.

 

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