"I know," I said. "It's a balance."
"Not anymore," she said. "Although with Cal Parker out of the way..."
I took a sip of coffee. "I think I'm Suspect Number One."
9
"I already told you that’s ridiculous," Denise scoffed. "You never met him before yesterday."
"But he threatened my business." I looked at her. "And whoever did him in used the flatiron I repurposed as a doorstop."
"Wait. The murder weapon came from the shop?"
I nodded.
"But half the town was here last night!"
"I know. And I told them my prints are all over it."
"That must be why they printed you. To eliminate your prints."
"Then why did she ask me not to leave town?"
Denise winced. "Yeah. That is a problem."
She was about to say something else when a woman I didn't recognize trotted up the sidewalk and turned into the path leading to the bookstore, almost running up to the porch. She stopped when she saw us, the strings of her apron flapping in the breeze and her chest heaving.
"Is it true?" she asked, wild-eyed.
"Is what true?"
"Is Councilman Parker dead?"
"I'm afraid so," I said.
"Murdered?"
I nodded.
She swallowed, and something—fear?—crossed her face. "You found him, right?" she asked, addressing the question to me. "How did he die?" she asked, staring. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she was wringing her apron, a hand-stitched checked number that appeared to have seen a lot of use, in her hands.
"I don't know that I'm allowed to say," I told her, glancing at Denise.
"It was... violent?"
I hesitated, then nodded. She sucked in her breath.
"Were you close with him?" I asked.
"Close?" She blinked, then let out a hard sound that was something between a sob and a guffaw. "No. I rue the day he set foot in Snug Harbor." And with that, she turned around and headed back down the path, walking slowly this time, her shoulders drooping.
When she was out of earshot, I turned to Denise. "Who the heck was that?"
"Sylvia Berland," she informed me. "She and her husband own the Salty Dog Brew Pub."
"Why was she so upset about what happened to Cal Parker?"
Denise glanced at me. "I imagine she's afraid her husband Jared might be responsible."
"Why?"
"Cal's been going after all kinds of business owners, telling them they need extra permits, or they're not in compliance with town law... just being a pain in the neck. The Salty Dog has been in his crosshairs lately; he's saying the pub is too close to a school, even though it's a half mile down the road."
"What was in it for Cal?"
"I think he made 'deals' with businesses... they’d pay to be forgiven, if that makes sense."
"Graft, in other words. But aren't there other selectmen? Why was he so powerful?"
She took another bite of muffin. "There are five, but at least two of them seem to have been in Cal's back pocket."
"But he was just elected, so he's junior."
"There are a lot of theories about why that might be," she said. "He was a wealthy man. He had power. I'm guessing he dug up dirt on them and they were afraid he'd run smear campaigns and get them ousted."
"Mudslinging."
"His specialty," she said. "And rich as he was, he didn’t seem to be averse to making more dollars, even at the expense of those who are just getting by."
"And he and Scooter were close, you say? No surprise there."
"I know. I wonder which one of them came up with the idea of setting Agatha on you?"
"What's Agatha's deal, anyway?"
"She's bitter... she and her parents had a falling-out years ago. Loretta took care of their mom during her last years. I don't know this for sure, but I heard their mom gave Agatha some of the money she had left, but left the store to Loretta."
"Why is Agatha contesting it, then? It sounds like it was a reasonably equitable settlement, right?"
"This is a valuable piece of property," Denise said. "I'm guessing once Agatha got wind of what Loretta sold it to you for—or, rather, when Scooter informed her that she'd sold it to you—she started looking for ways to get her piece of the pie."
"She has no reason to have wanted to kill Cal Parker, though. Me, on the other hand..."
"Oh, you're not the only suspect. Lots of dysfunctional families in Snug Harbor; Cal's brother is a prime suspect, too."
"His brother?"
"Josiah Parker. He's had it in for his brother for years."
"Well, that's something, I guess." I sighed. I'd thought Snug Harbor would be a refuge from the big, bad, scary world, but there are rotten eggs everywhere.
And unfortunately, I reflected, one of them had ended up cracked open right behind my shop.
Denise headed out at around noon, just as lunch-break customers started drifting into the shop. If nothing else, I reflected as I fielded yet another question about the murder and sold a hardbound P.G. Wodehouse collection, the news was good for business.
"I heard you dated him a long time ago," one woman said.
"No," I said pleasantly. "I'd never met him before last night."
"Wasn't he going to kick you out of your store?" someone else asked as he walked over to the register with a copy of the Farmer's Almanac.
"Not exactly," I said, and then, to change the subject, "What kind of cookie would you like?"
Bethany turned up just after two, evidently the only resident of Snug Harbor unaware of what had happened behind Seaside Cottage Books. The early sun was slanting through the windows, making the polished wood floors glow; I'd opened the windows, and a cool breeze filtered through the shop, smelling of the sea.
"How are
