Murder Steals the Show (Rooftop Garden Cozy Mysteries Book 7) Page 2

  When she wondered this aloud, Owen gave a little shrug and said, “Probably saw the police and the armored van, same as us. Can’t fault the guy for being curious.” He turned to Franny. “I heard Damon’s donating like a million dollars to make improvements at the park.”

  “I heard he’s volunteering at toddler story time over at the library,” said Franny.

  Maybe that was why he never came into the bookstore! Maybe he preferred the library. It probably had nothing to do with Alice or The Paper Owl. Maybe Alice had judged him unfairly.

  She smiled back in Damon’s direction as she turned the sign to Open on the door of The Paper Owl. But Damon was too busy to notice. He was watching Taya Helms, the bartender at the Smiling Hound, walking past him, presumably on her way to the pub, where they served an amazing brunch every morning. Alice was surprised when Taya crossed to the other side of the street when she spotted Damon—seemingly in an effort to avoid him. Alice noticed Damon’s eyes following Taya for a long time after she’d gone by. Then, he turned and looked right at Alice, who quickly pretended to be fiddling with the sign before going into her shop.

  She let out a long sigh on the other side of the door. No, there was definitely something she didn’t like about Damon Huxley. And maybe, after all, she wasn’t the only one.

  Chapter 3

  It was a busy day at The Paper Owl, and when Alice wasn’t selling books or stocking shelves, she was making last-minute phone calls, ensuring that everyone was ready for the faire to open the next day.

  Owen came over from his bakery through the bookshelf door at the back of the shop. Alice loved that door. It was a childhood dream come true to have a secret bookshelf door, and even now, at the age of thirty-one, she always felt a little stealthy when she walked through it. A connecting hallway ran along the back of the building that Alice shared with Owen and Franny—and all three shops had doors that accessed the hallway, where a beautiful old wooden staircase led up to the three apartments on the second floor.

  “Hello, my queen,” Owen said, stepping behind the counter and immediately making himself useful by neatly tucking a customer’s purchases into one of the bookstore’s canvas, owl-emblazoned bags.

  “What ho, your highness?” Alice answered, with a curtsy.

  Owen smiled at the customer as he handed her purchase over. “Thank you for your patronage. Do come to the Nottingham Faire tomorrow, my lady,” he said in his most charming British accent. “And prithee, make haste to the bakery next door, where we shall be serving fresh Welsh cakes with clotted cream and jam.”

  The customer giggled and gladly agreed to return the next day, then exited the shop, causing the bells above the door to jingle.

  The wall that separated The Paper Owl from Joe’s had a large cased opening cut into it, so that coffee shop customers could meander into the bookstore to buy the latest bestseller or today’s newspaper, and bookstore customers could take their purchases, find a table, and sit and read over a cookie and a hot cup of coffee. Alice and Franny found that they got almost as many customers from within each other’s shops as they did from their Main Street entrances.

  “I can’t wait to hear about your costumes,” Franny said, propping her elbows on the counter. “How was the fitting?”

  “Oh, Franny, wait until you see,” said Alice. “It turns out Owen and I are king and queen—”

  “Of the elves!” Owen clapped his hands gleefully. “We’re elven monarchs! How cool is that?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Right down to our pointy little ears,” said Alice.

  “The costumes are magnificent. You have to meet the Clarks. They’re the amazing new costume designers for the faire,” said Owen.

  “And get this: The Clarks are also acrobats. They do a show. Their names are Lois and Drake, and they’re brother and sister.”

  Franny let out a little giggle-snort.

  “What?” asked Alice.

  “Oh, nothing. I was just imagining you and Ben doing an acrobatic show,” said Franny, giggling a little harder now. “Sorry! My hormones are wacky. I’ve generally been laughing half the time and crying the other half.”

  “Crying?” said Owen. “But why?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not sad,” Franny assured him. “Like last night, Ben and I were watching a movie, and this commercial came on where a grandmother was making this birthday cake—”

  “The Fresh Flour cake mix commercial!” said Owen. “I always cry on that one, too. When the little kid gets home from school, and he’s had a hard day, and none of the other kids knew it was his birthday, but then there’s the grandmother, with that cake.”

  He and Franny both looked like they might tear up right there in the bookshop.

  “Get a grip, you two,” said Alice.

  “Have you no heart?” Owen exclaimed.

  “When can I see your elf costumes? After dinner?” asked Franny.

  “Sadly, no,” said Owen. “The Clarks said they needed to make some additional alterations, so they’ll deliver them in the morning.”

  “I thought mine already fit pretty well,” said Alice, just as the bells above the door jingled and Mayor Abercrombie came in.

  “There you are, Mayor Abercrombie,” said Franny, turning to run back into Joe’s to get a cup of French Roast with a dash of cream and a spoonful of sugar. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming in today.”

  “I’m running late,” the mayor called after her. “But, I couldn’t forgo my afternoon coffee and newspaper,” he said, as Alice handed him a fresh newspaper from the rack by the counter.

  The mayor usually came in around two o’clock on weekdays. He called the stop his pick-me-up to counteract his afternoon slump at work. He’d take a brisk walk down Main Street, saying hello to his constituents along the way, and then stop off for coffee and the latest issue of the Blue Valley Post before heading back over to Town Hall.

  “Are we all set for the faire opening tomorrow?” asked the mayor as Franny put his cup of coffee into his hand.

  “All set,” said Alice, picking up her trusty clipboard with the weekend schedule on it. “You’ll meet Little John and the others at the gazebo in Town Park at ten tomorrow morning for the official welcome, and then the parade out to the woods is at three.”

  “I love the parade,” the mayor said, opening his paper and skimming the headlines.

  Every year, the mayor and his staff waited on horseback as the parade progressed down Main and hooked a right onto Phlox Street. When the group passed Town Hall, King Richard, who would be played by Logan Webb this year, would greet Mayor Abercrombie, and then the whole parade would proceed out to the woods by the lake to a spot known to locals simply as The Clearing. It was a lovely open space surrounded by trees near the town dock at the water’s edge, and it was the site of everything from weddings to concerts to the Fourth of July celebrations. That was where the evening faire festivities were held, while during the day, Main Street and Town Park were the faire hot spots.

  “I’m dressing up as a wizard this year,” the mayor said. “My staff are all fairies and imps and things like that. It’s going to be such fun!” His smile suddenly vanished. “What’s this?” he said, more to himself than to anyone else, as he looked at the newspaper.

  Alice, who hadn’t read today’s issue yet, attempted to make out the headline upside down. “Mayor Should Lay Off Kissing Babies and Get Down to Business.”

  “What? Who wrote that?” Owen asked, craning to see the article.

  “It’s a guest editorial,” the mayor ground out through clenched teeth. “Written by Damon Huxley.”

  Alice felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she remembered seeing Damon that morning, watching the museum—and then watching Taya Helms walk by in a slightly creepy way.

  The mayor finished reading the editorial, his face clouded over. “The nerve of that guy!” he said, turning an angry shade of red. “Blowing into town. Acting as though he knows even
the first thing about the people or the issues of Blue Valley! This is libel and I won’t stand for it!” He crumpled the paper and slammed it down onto the counter. “I wish he’d never come here!”

  And with that, Mayor Abercrombie took his coffee and stormed out of the bookshop.

  “Wow, I’ve never seen the mayor so angry,” said Owen, snapping up the paper and opening it back up to the editorial.

  Alice and Franny leaned over his shoulders to read. After a few minutes—during which the three of them mumbled words like, Wow! and Scathing! And Ouch!—Owen closed the newspaper and laid it on the counter.

  “Well, I can see why the mayor was so angry,” he said. “That editorial was harsh.”

  “I don’t like that Damon Huxley,” said Alice.

  “You don’t?” Owen asked.

  “He comes in for coffee a few times a week,” said Franny. “Always leaves a generous tip. He seems okay to me.”

  “Hey, check out the front page,” said Owen, pointing at the paper. “It’s an article about that Scarlett Lady necklace we saw this morning.”

  “The Scarlett Lady,” said Alice, picking up the paper. “Oh my gosh. It says the necklace is worth twenty-five million dollars!”

  “Seriously?” Owen snatched the paper from Alice’s hands just as the doorbells tinkled again, and Lacie Blake and her boyfriend Zack Spears walked in.

  “Lacie!” Alice said, hurrying around the counter to give the pretty young woman a hug.

  Lacie was the daughter of Doug and Barb Blake, who owned the gourmet chocolate shop, Sugar Buzz, just two doors down. Lacie and Zack went to college nearby but came home often on weekends—especially when fairs and festivals were going on—to work in the bookshop and earn some extra money. Alice, who was usually at least partly in charge of those fairs and festivals, was always glad to see Lacie and trusted her to look after the shop.

  “Just wanted to stop in and tell you I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow morning, your highness,” said Lacie, dropping a deep curtsey toward Alice.

  “You heard about the queen-for-a-day thing, huh?”

  “Yep. Don’t worry about a thing. I can work all weekend.”

  “Wonderful,” said Alice.

  “I can’t,” Zack said, a note of apology in his voice. “The Nottingham Faire hired me to do set-up and tear-down. I’ll be doing odd jobs for them all weekend.”

  “That sounds like good experience,” said Alice. “I’m glad you’re both home.”

  They caught up for a few minutes more, then Lacie and Zack headed up the street to drop in at Sugar Buzz, and Alice turned the sign to Closed on her door.

  “We can read this later,” she said, neatly folding the newspaper Owen had left on the counter and slipping it into her bag. “We don’t want to be late.”

  Chapter 4

  Alice locked up and the three friends walked across Main Street to the Smiling Hound, where they were meeting “Little John” Stone and his wife, Gabriella, for dinner. Since the last time the faire had come through town, Little John and Gabby, along with Logan Webb and Daniel Baker, had all become partners and now owned and managed the whole operation together. Alice, Owen, and Franny had actually had the pleasure of being present when Little John had professed his love for Gabby for the first time the year before, and six months later, they’d received a postcard announcing the happy news that the two were married.

  “This year’s faire is going to be amazing,” Alice was saying as she pushed open the pub door.

  “You got that right,” a big, jovial voice said, and Alice looked up to see the smiling face of Little John, looking down at her.

  “Little John! Gabby!” Alice hugged them both. “So good to see you!”

  “And you all as well!” said Little John.

  “How’s everyone tonight?” Patrick Sullivan, owner of the Hound, said as they walked further into the pub. “I’ve got your table ready to go, up on the roof. Thought you’d like to eat outside, so you can catch up.”

  “As usual, you were exactly right,” said Alice.

  Everyone in Blue Valley made it into the Smiling Hound at least once a week. Whether you wanted to grab a drink or tuck into the juiciest burger in town, it was the place to be. As a result, Patrick Sullivan knew everything about everybody.

  Just as the group of friends was about to head up the stairs, there was a roar of laughter from the bar area, which was just to the right of the entrance.

  “Looks like Ralph’s on a roll,” Little John said with a laugh.

  “Who’s Ralph?” Franny asked.

  “The guy at the end of the bar,” said Gabby. “He’s a riot. You’ll be meeting him tomorrow at the faire. He’s our jester.”

  “His brightly colored striped jacket kind of gave him away,” said Owen. “Actually, it looks interesting paired with jeans,” he added thoughtfully. “Nice to know you can dress your jester’s togs down for casual evenings.”

  “His stage name is Wamba,” said Little John.

  “I see Daniel and Logan over there, too,” said Alice, spotting the other two partners who owned the Nottingham Faire and giving them a wave.

  “Looks like a lot of the gang is here,” said Little John. “I guess everyone’s settled in at the Cozy Bear.”

  The Nottingham Faire group usually stayed at the Cozy Bear Camp and Glamp, which conveniently lay just across the lake, so they could walk there from the clearing every evening when the festivities had ended.

  Suddenly, a man whose back was turned called out, “Another round for the bar! On me!”

  “Wow, someone’s in a generous mood tonight,” said Owen, leaning around Little John to see who it was.

  When the man turned his head to the side, Alice realized it was Damon Huxley, and he looked like he was having a wonderful time, sitting smack in the middle of the faire players.

  “Is that Damon?” Franny asked.

  “Yes, it is,” said Patrick. Alice noticed Patrick’s tone was flat when he’d answered. “He’s been in here every night this week, buying drinks for people, showing off.” His face brightened a bit. “But, he spends a lot of money here, so I guess I can’t complain.”

  “He doesn’t have a job, does he?” Owen asked. “I wonder where his money comes from.”

  “I hear he’s independently wealthy. Comes from a rich family,” said Patrick. Then, he turned his attention to Little John and Gabby. “Hey, I’m looking forward to selling our new collection of signature ales at the faire tomorrow night,” he said. “I’ll be setting up the Smiling Hound 2 over at the lake in the morning.”

  “Wonderful!” said Little John. “I’ll be looking forward to tasting them all.”

  “I’ll send some samples up to your table. On the house,” said Patrick with a smile as the group headed up the stairs to the rooftop garden, where Taya appeared and showed them to their table.

  “What are you doing up here?” Alice asked, as Taya passed out menus. “How will the bar survive without you?”

  Taya laughed. “Angel’s got it under control down there. Patrick’s letting me wait tables up here for a while.”

  “Aren’t the tips better down at the bar?” asked Owen.

  “Honestly, I’d rather be down there. But that guy Damon Huxley is there, and I’d rather avoid him.”

  Alice lowered her voice and looked at Taya with concern. “Why? Is he bothering you?”

  “He keeps trying to get me to go out with him,” said Taya, frowning. “It’s . . . it’s awkward. He’s basically a pompous jerk, and I wish someone would teach him a lesson. But, it probably won’t be me. I figure I’ll just avoid him and hopefully he’ll get the message loud and clear.” She cleared her throat and smiled at Little John and Gabby. “Actually, your court jester came to my rescue a while ago. He was down at the bar when Damon came in and started bugging me.”

  “Wamba? Oh, he’s the best,” said Little John.

  “He’s great,” Taya agreed with a shy smile. “So funny and kind.�
�� Then she noticed another customer signaling that he was ready for his check, so she excused herself and promised to return to take their orders shortly.

  “Seems like you’ve hired quite a few new folks this year,” Alice said.

  “We have,” said Gabby. “And the faire is thriving. We’ve been able to share a portion of our proceeds with several worthy charities, and we’ve been drawing bigger crowds than ever since we changed up our management.”

  “One of our business tactics is hiring multi-taskers,” added Little John. “Take Wamba, for instance. He’s also a certified public accountant. Juggles and tells jokes by day, balances the books and handles payroll by night. Acts like a joker, but he’s sharp as a tack.”

  “And the Clarks, who design the costumes—you met them earlier today,” Gabby said, looking at Alice and Owen, “they’re also acrobats and do a magic show, as well. They’re absolutely brilliant!”

  “Heck, our horse stunt rider is in advertising. Our bird wrangler oversees security. We’ve been hiring multitalented people and it’s paying off.”

  Taya approached the table and served a round of the Smiling Hound’s signature ales to everyone except Franny, who had a chilled glass of ginger beer instead.

  “I like the Hook or Crook best,” said Owen, taking a sip of the dark brown porter. “I can taste a little chocolate in it. And vanilla, too.”

  “The Hue and Cry is my favorite,” said Little John. “But I like ‘em stout as possible.”

  “I definitely like the Maid Marian the most,” said Alice, sipping her small glass of sweet honey mead.

  After enjoying drinks, along with hearty sandwiches, burgers, and crispy fish and chips, everyone was stuffed and in need of a walk. As they exited the Hound, they noticed that the bar was quiet once more, with only the sounds of soft chatter and the clinking of glasses. Taya gave them a wave from her usual spot behind the bar.

  The spring evening was perfect, with a soft breeze blowing from the vicinity of the lake, and Alice looked forward to snuggling up on the couch with a movie at Franny’s. It was early yet, so the group decided to take a stroll down Main Street and do some window shopping before going their separate ways.