Chapter 6 #2
Shelf Starter was a store that used almost every free inch for its merchandise.
The space was packed with books, with aisles so narrow that one had to become physically intimate with a shelf of literary fiction in order to allow another person to squeeze by.
The only items that came close to the books in quantity (though by a wide margin) were the fresh bouquets of flowers scattered about wherever there was surface space.
The business normally boasted about two or three customers at a time, but on this day there was an unusually large number of bodies packed into the store.
Amie watched two people play a quick round of “Which Way Are You Going?” as they tried to pass each other in the romance section.
A young woman was perilously balancing an armful of books while trying to wriggle through the crowd in the sci-fi aisle.
Shelf Starter usually piped calm music through invisible speakers, but if the music was playing, it was drowned out by the ambient noise of a fire marshal’s worst nightmare.
Ziya leaned in close to Amie’s ear. “I didn’t know Savannah was so beloved,” she whispered.
It took Amie a beat to process what Ziya had said, her brain focusing instead on the proximity of her ex’s mouth to her neck.
“Uh, yeah,” she finally managed to get out. “Seems strange.”
“Ah.” Ziya pointed to a “50% Off All Books” sign that was taped to the end of one shelf, underneath another sign promoting the bookshop’s printing services. “That makes more sense.”
Amie looked around for Madeline. She knew the woman was blond, but couldn’t quite remember her face. She hoped she’d recognize her on sight, but wasn’t having any luck so far.
Her luck took a turn for the worse as they bushwhacked their way to the back of the store.
A small spread of cheese and crackers had been set up on the counter next to a large bouquet of lilies by the register.
A framed photo of Savannah was half-obscured by a near-empty pitcher of what appeared to be iced tea.
A familiar figure was standing alone by the refreshments, building a sandwich with a slice of cheddar and two crackers.
“Ugh,” Amie said, nudging Ziya. “My landlord is here.”
“Gorgeous Benny?” Ziya asked eagerly, looking around.
“Don’t call him that. What’s he doing here?”
Ziya winced. “You’re gonna be really bad at this mystery-solving thing, aren’t you?”
“Why?”
“Well,” Ziya explained, “this is Savannah’s memorial. Savannah lived in your building. Benny is your landlord. Which would make him Savannah’s landlord. It’s elementary, Amie.”
“I know that,” Amie grumbled. “I’m just surprised to see him show up to something. Took him six weeks to come fix my radiator.” She tugged on Ziya’s arm, pulling her down an aisle of books. “I can’t do awkward small talk with him right now.”
They weaved around several more people who seemed far more interested in the discounted books than memorializing Savannah.
“Oh, there’s Raina,” Amie said as she and Ziya stopped by the nonfiction section. She nodded at the young woman standing at the end of the aisle, talking to someone she couldn’t see. “She’s the manager.”
“Mm, big suspect, then,” Ziya commented.
Amie frowned. “Why?”
“Based on the stories I’ve heard and my few interactions with her, Savannah was a nightmare to be around.” She lowered her voice. “I think anyone who regularly spent time with her has a strong motive for murder.”
“Hm.” Amie wasn’t sure she agreed. They likely needed to come up with a stronger motive than “spent too much time around Savannah.”
A customer carrying a teetering stack of books was taking his balancing act to the other end of their aisle. Ziya stepped in closer to Amie, who flattened her back against the shelf behind her.
“You don’t like my theory?” Ziya asked, keeping her voice low as she used one hand to brace herself against the books. Her hair tickled Amie’s ear as she inclined her head to be heard over the hubbub of the store.
“I didn’t say that.” Amie clenched her hands into fists to keep them from going to Ziya’s hips and pulling her closer. Her eyes were under strict orders to stay on Ziya’s eyes and not drift any lower. “It’s a good theory.”
Her breathing grew shallow as her ex-girlfriend leaned in more. Their noses just barely brushed before Ziya pushed off the shelf, stepping away.
“It needs more proof to back it up,” she declared. “Let’s go get it.”
“Mhm” was the best Amie could manage in response.
As they continued down the aisle toward Raina, Amie was finally able to see who the woman was talking to. The face she’d been unable to conjure was now crystal clear and in Technicolor: the owner of Eons Café.
“That’s Madeline, right?” Ziya asked, noticing the woman as well. “Two birds with one stone. Let’s eavesdrop.”
Retracing their steps, they circled back around and hurried down the next aisle. Amie and Ziya stopped by a shelf of thick fantasy books, right around the corner from the two other women.
“You should ask him,” came Raina’s voice from the other side of the shelves. “I know it’s soon, but I think he’d appreciate getting it off his plate.”
“I do need to talk to him eventually,” Madeline replied. “I just don’t know if now is—oh, here he comes.”
There was a pause as they waited for the subject of their conversation to join them. Then, a strained, baritone voice quietly demanded, “What are you doing here?”
Ziya snuck a peek through the shelf, with Amie following her lead. Andrew Harlow, Savannah’s husband, was staring at the café owner. He had white hair, bright blue eyes, and a pale complexion that was steadily turning red from the barely contained rage that simmered beneath his weathered features.
“Andrew,” Madeline said, sounding confused. “I’m so sorry for—”
“Get out,” he said. He was still speaking in a low voice, but more anger spilled forth as he continued. “Get out of my wife’s store and don’t come back. I don’t want to see you, and I don’t want to hear from you. Do you understand?”
Madeline’s curls bounced as she shook her head. “I … I really don’t.”
“Mr. Harlow,” Raina started cautiously, “Madeline wanted to talk—”
“I said get out!” Andrew repeated, louder and sharper this time. “You are never getting this store. So get out. Now.”
Without another word, Madeline stepped past him and hurried away.
“Shit,” Ziya muttered. “I’ll try to catch her. You talk to Raina.”
Amie spluttered. “What? Wait—” But Ziya was already rushing down the aisle before she could say anything more.
Andrew’s voice brought Amie back to eavesdropping.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, his voice rough.
“Don’t worry about it.” Raina sounded concerned. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much.”
“No, no, I’m fine. I want to be here.”
“Do you need anything?”
“Keep her out of the store, please,” Andrew said firmly. “And … I think we’re almost out of iced tea.”
“I have another jug in the back,” Raina said. “I’ll go get it.”
Amie froze as Raina passed the aisle she was hiding in, but the store’s manager didn’t notice her as she disappeared into the back room.
“Can I help you find something?”
Amie jumped, knocking a fantasy trilogy clean off the shelf as she whirled around.
The person who’d spoken knelt down to retrieve the fallen books. He looked to be in his early twenties, with a shock of red curls tied up in a short ponytail. Amie recognized him as one of the store’s employees.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. She shuffled backward awkwardly to give him room as he scooped the books up. As he straightened, she caught a glimpse of the name on his tag—Grayson.
“Nah, my fault,” he replied, tucking the clipboard he’d been holding under his arm as he returned the books to their shelf. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’ve just been jumpy lately,” Amie said. “Not your fault.”
“Bro, same.” Grayson hunched his shoulders, lowering his voice. “I didn’t even wanna come in today. Since Savannah couldn’t work, for obvious reasons, they needed the help. But there’s a murderer out there.” He shivered. “Any of us could be next.”
Amie was taken aback by how indiscreetly this guy was speaking to her. Not wanting to discourage him, she hid her surprise.
“I’m sure you’re not in danger,” she said. “Especially not in a busy bookstore in the middle of the day.”
“I dunno, man.” Grayson shook his head. “Crowds can make it easy for someone to take out a knife”—he mimed drawing what appeared to be a dagger from a sheath, stabbing it into the air—“then slip away into the throng, undetected.”
Amie suddenly felt less safe standing in a busy bookstore in the middle of the day. Especially with someone who was so adept with imaginary knives.
“It’s even worse when there’s hardly anyone around,” Grayson continued. “Thank god they never leave me alone in here. It gets spooky quiet.”
Considering how willingly he abandoned working to talk with Amie, she could understand why that might be a policy.
“Do you have a reason to believe you’d be in danger?” she asked.
“Not really.” He tapped his right temple. “But some murderers kill for reasons we’d never be able to guess. It’s scary. Like, what if this guy has a vendetta against people who work at bookstores, and I’m next?”
“I don’t think that’s the case,” Amie said soothingly, though Grayson seemed more eager than scared by the prospect of being targeted by a bibliophobic serial killer.
“If anything,” Grayson continued, “it’d probably be Raina, then me.”
Amie was struggling to follow him through the conversation. “Sorry?”
“Order of death,” Grayson explained. “If we’re talking chain of command. Though, if the murderer had asked me, I would’ve told them to start from the bottom and work their way up. Me, then Raina, then Savannah. Builds suspense more that way.”
“Bet you’re glad they didn’t ask you, then,” Amie said weakly.
Grayson laughed. “Yeah, imagine.”