I shook my head. "No."
"May I ask your whereabouts last night?"
"Like I said, I finished cleaning up the place, then went up to my apartment and went to bed."
"Your apartment is above the shop?"
"Yes."
"Can anyone else vouch for your whereabouts?"
I looked down at Winston, who had moved close to my leg, as if he knew I was under threat. He cocked his fluffy white head at me. "Only Winston," I said.
"Winston's your dog?"
I nodded.
"Do you have anything in writing regarding these permits?"
"I have a letter from the Board of Selectmen," I said, "but I don't see what this has to do with what happened to Cal Parker."
All she said was, "Can I get a copy of that?"
"Of course," I said. "I'll make one today and get it to you."
"Actually, I'll have the original, if you don't mind."
I hesitated. I suspected she needed a warrant to go and get it, but I didn't want to look as if I wasn’t cooperating. "No problem," I said, "I just need to make a copy of it. I need to talk to an attorney and find out what my options are, and I'd like to have all the paperwork in order."
"It seems to me that with Cal out of the way, maybe you won't have as much difficulty keeping the business going?"
"Cal wasn't the one who claimed to own half the store," I pointed out. "All he wanted to do was talk to me about permits, I think."
"Right," she said, writing that down. "Who did you buy the place from? Loretta Satterthwaite?"
"Yes," I confirmed. "It's her sister, Agatha, who is claiming she still owns half the property. At least according to Scooter."
"Did it seem to you that Agatha was driving the effort to reclaim the property? Or someone else?"
"I don't know," I said. "I just know that Scooter and Cal both seemed to know what was going on."
She touched the cap of the pen to her cheek and gave me a thoughtful look. "You don't have plans to leave town anytime soon, do you?"
"No," I said. "I just moved here the day before yesterday."
"Good," she said. "I think that's all for now, but I'll be wanting to talk to you again—and if you wouldn't mind being fingerprinted?"
"Of course," I said. "Although if the thing that killed Cal was from my shop, you're going to find my fingerprints on it. I know I've moved it more than once since I bought the shop."
"Even so," she said. "Why don't you go get that paperwork, and I'll have someone take your prints."
"Got it," I said, and with Winston at my heels, I turned away from the detective and the body on the beach, hoping that my stay in Snug Harbor wouldn't involve time behind bars.
8
When ten o'clock rolled around and I turned the sign at the front of the store to "Open," I was on my third cup of coffee, but the caffeine didn't seem to be helping much. After my interrogation, I'd showed the papers to the detective and had my fingerprints taken; despite multiple scrubbings, I couldn't get the ink off my fingers, which meant every time I looked down at my hands, I was reminded of what had happened—and of the fact that I was now a suspect in a murder case.
Since the flatiron was gone, I substituted an owl bookend I had brought from Boston, and tried to distract myself by watering the geraniums on the front porch and putting out some of the new stock that was still in boxes in the storage closet.
I really wanted to go upstairs and start putting my apartment to rights—I was feeling very out-of-sorts and discombobulated—but Bethany wasn't coming in till the afternoon, and someone had to woman the store.
Traffic picked up about twenty minutes after I opened. Unfortunately, it consisted mostly of locals, who spent a brief ten minutes perusing the shelves before shuffling over to find me and start asking questions.
"I heard you found Cal Parker down on the beach this morning. Nasty business. He was murdered?" asked one.
"Is it true he was going to close down the shop?" asked another.
"What are you going to do when you have to close the business?" was another question.
One thing you could say about small towns: news traveled fast.
By the time Denise popped in at eleven, I'd answered about fifty questions, but only sold one field guide to Maine wildflowers, two Ellery Adams mysteries, and a King James Bible. I'd given each customer one of the few leftover cookies from last night's shindig, fulfilling my " cookie with every purchase" promise, but I'd need to get back in the kitchen soon if I wanted to continue to make good on my offer.
"I heard what happened!" Denise announced, breathless, as she burst through the shop door. "Are you okay?"
"I think I'm still a little in shock," I told her, then held up my hands. "They printed me. I think I might be a suspect."
"A suspect? Why? You didn't even meet him until yesterday; that makes no sense at all."
"I'm afraid there's more to it than that," I said, and told her about the issue with the permits and the deed to the store.
"That slime ball," she said. "I've always wondered if he's not in cahoots with Scooter; he was probably going to get a kickback if you lost the property. I know Scooter was harassing Loretta about selling to him. I'm so sorry that happened to you.”
"Thanks," I said.
She took a deep breath. "On a brighter note, I can't believe you're back in town!" she said, her face breaking into a familiar smile. "And I had no idea it was you buying the bookstore! This was always your favorite place as a kid; it's perfect for you!"
"Or sort of buying the shop, as
