Murder in the Paperback Parlor (24 page)

Jane knew she should greet this news with relief, but she experienced a stab of bitter disappointment instead. “Is he going back to travel writing? What about Daily Bread?”

Eloise began to put the glasses in the cupboard. “He left Magnus in charge. It all happened overnight. That's how things always are with Edwin. He stopped by my house long enough to say good-bye and to assure me that he wouldn't be gone long. He also asked me to look after you, like I wouldn't have done that anyway.”

Jane couldn't tell Eloise what she'd learned about Edwin without revealing her own secrets, but she owed her friend a partial explanation. “I was falling for Edwin too, but I had to pull back. I can't take chances as though I were young and single. My boys come first.”

“So
that's
why Edwin said that he had to prove himself to you.” Eloise brightened. “What he thinks he'll find in Lebanon or wherever to win you over is beyond me, but he mentioned something about showing you his true character. No matter how much I pried, he wouldn't elaborate.” Eloise frowned. “He can be maddening, Jane, and I don't know whether you should run in the opposite direction when you see him coming or give him the benefit of the doubt. I really don't. But nothing you do will alter our friendship. Not ever.”

Jane switched off the kitchen lights and the two women moved to the living room. Eloise buttoned her coat and held her copy of
Chocolat
against her chest. “I want to read you a few lines that spoke to me.” She opened to a bookmarked page.
“‘I could do with a bit more excess. From now on I'm going to be immoderate—and volatile—I shall enjoy loud music and lurid poetry.'”

“Are you going to follow in the heroine's footsteps?” Jane teased. “Because I'd fully support your decision to sell chocolate at Run for Cover.”

Eloise wasn't smiling when she put her hands on Jane's shoulders. “You could do with a bit more excess, my friend. It's time for you to stop thinking of yourself as a widow and a single mom. You're a woman in the prime of her life. A smart, funny, and beautiful woman. You also have excellent taste in books and in best friends.”

Jane laughed. “Message received. You'd better get to bed. A certain falconer rises very early. See you at the Pickled Pig tomorrow.”

Eloise opened the door and stepped outside. “Let's not end up like J. Alfred Prufrock,” she said, hugging herself against the cold. “Let's take a vow not to measure out our lives in coffee spoons.”

Jane, who'd memorized the T.S. Eliot poem in college, offered Eloise her hand. “'Do I dare disturb the universe?'” she quoted.

“Yes, we do!” Eloise vigorously shook Jane's hand. With a final smile, she darted off into the darkness.

As for Jane, she went upstairs to her bedroom and opened the lid of the jewelry box on her dresser. Withdrawing the card that had accompanied Edwin's Valentine's bouquet, she pressed it between her fingers, squeezing gently. She'd repeated the same examination every night since she'd run into Edwin on the street outside the sheriff's station, and though she knew there was an object sealed inside the envelope, she'd yet to look at it.

“Do I dare?” she whispered.

She thought of how she'd watched Lachlan and the falcon during their evening exercise. When Lachlan had removed the bird's hood, her piercing yellow eyes had darted everywhere, taking in the meadow, the trees, and the expanse of grey sky. She'd stretched her mighty wings, and then, Lachlan had thrust
his arm up and out and the falcon had leapt off her human perch. She'd let loose a cry of wild abandon as she hit the air. A cry of unadulterated joy. The sound had echoed inside Jane's heart. It came back to her now as she sat on the edge of her bed with Edwin's card in her hand.

“I dare.”

Jane ripped open the envelope and pulled out a notecard. When she unfolded it, a small object wrapped in a thin sheaf of tissue paper dropped into her palm. Ignoring it for the moment, she read the words Edwin had written in his calligraphic script.

I waltzed with you once upon a dream.

I know you.

Edwin had switched the order of the lyrics of the song from Disney's
Sleeping Beauty
, but the melody immediately began playing in Jane's mind. She returned to the night she and Edwin had danced alone in the ballroom and the memory was so strong that she could almost feel his hand pressing against her lower back.

Jane closed her eyes and lost herself in images of that unforgettable evening. If only she could return to that state of blissful ignorance, back to when she hadn't known the truth about Edwin Alcott.

“I know you too, book thief,” she whispered. Opening her eyes, she peeled the tissue away from the object nestled in her palm to reveal a gold owl pin. Its eyes were tiny pearls and the scroll in its talons looked like ivory. It was an exact duplicate of the tattoo on her left breast.

Jane could see the piece of jewelry was delicately made and probably quite old. She was less certain of Edwin's reason for giving it to her, however. Was it supposed to be a token of affection? Edwin's way of saying that he knew she was the Guardian of Storyton Hall? Or was it a warning? A portent of his plans to locate the secret library and steal one of its precious treasures?

Jane had no idea what the gift meant, so she put the card and the owl pin in her jewelry box and shut the lid.

She glanced out the window, seeking the dark bulk of Storyton Hall across the lawn. Jane lifted her gaze to the side of the house where her sons were curled like commas in their beds in her aunt and uncle's guest room. She blew them a kiss, thinking of the special pancake breakfast she'd make for them in the morning, and then got ready for bed.

Pulling back the covers, she reached for the book on her nightstand, but didn't open it. She placed the hardcover on the spare pillow and stared at the spine until her lids became heavy.

Even after switching off the lamp, she could still see the bold letters of the title,
The Art of War
, in her mind.

There would be time to read and to prepare for the future tomorrow. As for tonight, Jane wanted to dream of pleasant things. The gardens in springtime. A falcon taking wing. Against her will, however, she drifted off to the distant strains of Tchaikovsky's
Sleeping Beauty
and the glimmering, incandescent memory of a candlelit
waltz.

The next day, after church services and a hearty lunch of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and Brussels sprouts, Jane drove the boys into the village. Uncle Aloysius and Aunt Octavia followed behind in a second Rolls.

The Steward clan entered the market and glanced around at the pig-themed decorations. Pig cutouts hung from the ceiling, pig balloons were attached to the cash registers, and every employee wore pink pig ears.

“Welcome! Welcome!” Tobias Hogg rushed forward to meet them. In addition to the pig ears, he also wore a rubber pig snout over his nose. With his beady eyes, the effect made him look more like a two-legged swine than ever.

A woman wearing a matching rubber snout rounded the corner of the snack and soda aisle and waved at Jane. “Surprise!”

“Ms. Jewel! How nice to see you,” Jane said.

Barbara smiled. “Call me Barbara. After all, we're neighbors now. I'm renting a cottage across the street from the bank.”

Jane glanced at Tobias and saw pure joy in his eyes. “That's wonderful news,” she said sincerely. “How's the writing going?”

“I'm working on two projects. Finishing my current manuscript is one. Trying to win Mrs. Hogg over is the second.” Barbara nudged Tobias in the side. “This boy is her baby, and no one's quite good enough for him. But I have a plan.” She leaned closer to Jane. “I'm making Mrs. Hogg a character in my book. A resourceful and devoted mother revered by both her children and the townsfolk. What do you think?”

“It's brilliant,” Jane said.

Barbara shot a meaningful glance at Tobias and then touched Jane's arm. “Could I share something with you in private?”

Jane followed Barbara over to the bulk candy bins.

“I wanted to tell you something about the night Mr. Poindexter was killed.” Barbara pulled off her pig snout and lowered her voice. “I understand that I was seen leaving Storyton Hall with Tobias. It was quite late and I, ah, didn't return to the resort until the next day.”

Taking note of Barbara's discomfort, Jane said, “Please, it's none of my business—”

“I want everyone, especially Mrs. Hogg, to know that we weren't sneaking off like a pair of teenagers looking for a place to park. I'm not that kind of woman.” Barbara's cheeks grew bright pink. “We left because Tobias wanted me to meet his mother. She's an insomniac who takes long afternoon naps and is usually wide-awake at midnight. Apparently, Tobias thought his mother would be thrilled to meet the object of his affection. He expected her to welcome me with open arms even though she was in her nightgown and robe.”

Having met the formidable Mrs. Hogg, Jane thought it more likely that Barbara was received with glowers and grumbles.

“Mrs. Hogg aside, Tobias and I shared a magical evening. The moon was shining over Storyton Village as we drove through Main Street. And I've never seen so many stars! It was that sight, as well as the presence of the kind and attentive man beside me, that convinced me to rent a house here. Tobias and I are taking things slowly, though I'm very tempted to jump in with both feet! I've been waiting my whole life to be romanced.”

Jane smiled at Barbara. “I'm thrilled to call you neighbor. And I firmly believe that you and Tobias will live happily ever after.”

Just then, the store's intercom crackled and a tinny voice asked all customers to congregate in the bakery section.

Half of the village seemed to be gathered around a small platform featuring a ten-speed bicycle with a red frame and white-wall tires. A blue ribbon hung from the handlebars and a generous gift certificate to the Pickled Pig was taped to the seat.

Wide-eyed children surrounded the bike. They whispered to one another and bounced on the balls of their feet. They elbowed and jostled and chattered like squirrels. With one exception. Jane spotted a little girl from the twins' class. The girl, whose name was Abigail, tugged at the end of her long braid and stared at the bike with a mixture of hope and despondency.

She must want that bike very badly,
Jane thought.

Tobias led his spotted pig through the crowd. “Thanks for coming to our naming ceremony today, folks! We had so many wonderful suggestions that it was really tough to pick just one. I have runner-up prizes for two lucky kids. Congratulations to Marcy Pruitt and Robbie Carson for winning gift certificates to Geppetto's Toy Shop. The names they chose, Hamlet and Francis Bacon, were great. Let's give our runners-up a round of applause.”

Rufus and Duncan Hogg, who were as stony-faced as usual, passed out the certificates. Tobias clasped his hands over his round, aproned belly and grinned like a proud parent. “And now, without further ado, I'd like to congratulate Hemingway of Storyton Hall for submitting the winning name, Pig Newton. Master Hem, you're our grand prize winner!”

Hem hooted in triumph and exchanged high-fives with his brother and a dozen other children. He paused in the midst of accepting congratulations when he caught sight of Abigail's face. It had crumpled in disappointment and her eyes had filled with unshed tears. Hem looked at her for a long moment and then whispered in Fitz's ear.

Fitz drew back in surprise, but Hem grabbed his shirt and pulled him in close for another furious bout of whispering.

Finally, Fitz nodded and the two boys asked to speak with Tobias in private.

The trio ducked behind the bakery counter, held a quick conference, and then resumed their places. “All right, folks, we're going to have a short parade around the store. Hem Steward will have the honor of holding Pig Newton's leash. Lead on, son!”

Music blared through the speakers and Hem marched forward. The rest of the children immediately mimicked his high-knee walk, giggling over the silliness of parading down the frozen food aisle behind a boy and a small pig. As for Pig Newtown, he appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. He grunted and trotted at Hem's side like an obedient puppy.

Jane was about to follow along when she noticed Tobias beckon Abigail to come closer. He waited until the other children were gone before squatting down and speaking to her in low tones. He then pointed at the bike, clapped her on the back, and moved away.

The girl covered her mouth with her hands in astonishment. Her eyes shone with such delight that Jane could guess what had had happened. She suddenly remembered that Abigail's father had lost his over-the-mountain factory job several months ago. It had probably been a lean winter for Abigail's family.

Abigail's mother detached herself from the crowd and took her daughter's hand. The little girl whispered excitedly and then threw her arms around her mother's neck. Abigail's mother glanced at the bike and the gift certificate taped to its seat. She then scanned the surrounding faces until she found Jane's. She mouthed a big “Thank you.”

Jane felt a hand on her shoulder. “You should be proud, my girl,” Uncle Aloysius said.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Jane turned to her uncle and said, “Those boys never fail to surprise me. They've always been generous, but what they just did was inspiring. I think we should follow their lead.”

Aunt Octavia harrumphed. “I am
not
marching around a grocery store. I might trip an unruly child with my cane. Purely by accident, of course,” she added with an impish gleam in her eye.

“I don't mean
literally
follow their lead,” Jane said. “I'm talking about breaking with a centuries-old tradition. I want to share our treasure, Uncle Aloysius. Not all of it. Just a few items. Think of the gift we'd be giving the world and of how Storyton Hall would benefit in return. You both know about my Board of Dreams. Well, there's no more room left on that board. It's full, but our savings account isn't.”

Uncle Aloysius was already shaking his head. “Impossible. We'd be opening ourselves up to incredible danger. We might as well send formal invitations to every book thief on the planet. We gave our word, Jane. Not directly, but every time one of our predecessors accepted an item, they pledged to keep it safe. Safe means hidden. It's your duty as Guardian to keep that pledge. For the rest of your days.”

“I understand that, but not all of the materials are dangerous. Times have changed so drastically that the players in this drama—the authors, subjects, donors, and Steward guardians—are long dead. We're treading a fine line between protection and censorship. Can we try blowing the dust off of a few treasures? To bring them out into the light where they were meant to be? Stories belong to the world. Should a single story, poem, play, essay, or missive be under lock and key? I think not.”

“We've been over this, my dear, and—”

Aunt Octavia put her hand on her husband's arm. “I agree with Jane, my love. We could find a way. We could try it. Just this once.”

“We tried it forty years ago. Don't you remember what happened when we sold that poetry book?” Uncle Aloysius looked pained. “How many unwelcome visitors came to Storyton Hall afterward? And what of the fire in the east wing?”

Nodding gravely, Aunt Octavia clamped her lips together.

Jane hadn't heard about the fire. “We can talk about this over tea tomorrow afternoon. I'd like to know what went wrong
all those years ago and see if we might have more options open to us today. Will you at least agree to a discussion?”

Uncle Aloysius gave her an indulgent smile. “Of course. I am willing to talk this over with you, my girl.”

The parade was returning to its starting place. Hem had given the leash to Fitz and the twins had their arms slung around each other's shoulders. They came to a halt in front of the red bike and Fitz passed the leash to Tobias. Tobias shook hands with both boys, gave them a brief salute, and then scooped Pig Newton off the floor.

As the crowd dispersed to sample pig-shaped sugar cookies and cups of pink lemonade, Aunt Octavia called the twins to her side.

“I have never been so proud of you boys.” Beaming at them, she pointed at the bulk candy bins. “You can fill a bag to the tippy top. My treat.”

“Awesome!” Hem shouted while Fitz cried, “Sweet!”

Grinning, the boys raced off, nearly barreling into an elderly woman with a walker. They swerved at the last second and Jane expelled a long sigh. “Angels, they are not.”

“Thank heavens for that,” Aunt Octavia said. “Living with a bunch of angels would be tedious, don't you think?”

“No.” Uncle Aloysius bent down to plant a kiss on his wife's cheek. “I've been married to one for decades.”

Aunt Octavia pretended to push him away, but she didn't try very hard. “Stop it, Aloysius. Valentine's Day is over.”

“For me, every day is Valentine's Day.”

Jane watched her aunt and uncle move slowly toward the exit. Uncle Aloysius took his wife's arm and Aunt Octavia leaned into him. They talked softly as they walked, their heads tilted toward each other, their gaits evenly matched. Jane wondered if she'd ever find someone to grow old with, if she'd experience the happiness that came from a lifetime of shared memories.

“Mom?” Hem interrupted her maudlin thoughts. “Can we get truffles? Or do they cost extra?”

Seeing the bulging bag of candy in her son's hand, Jane
frowned. “Absolutely not. If I never see another truffle for the rest of my life, that'll be just fine with me.”

*   *   *

Two days later,
Jane sat in her office reviewing the blueprints for the falcon mews. She'd agreed to go ahead with the project even though it would take most of the Romancing the Reader profits to cover the cost of construction, adopt a second raptor, and train another handler. Jane decided that the program should be purely educational at first.

“To think this all started with a mysterious package.” Jane shook her head in wonder.

Lachlan placed a brown box on her desk. “Looks like you've received one of your own.”

Catching sight of the handwriting on the label, Jane forgot to breathe. She glanced up to ask Lachlan when the package had arrived, but he was already gone.

With trembling hands, Jane moved her teacup to the bookcase and the blueprints and budget spreadsheets aside. Settling herself in her chair, she stared at the stamps on the top corner of the box.

There were multiple paper stamps as well as U.S. Customs labels. Jane was most fascinated by the Damascus stamps with their Arabic script, colorful background, and images of monuments with tall minarets. Jane had only traveled to exotic places in her mind. All of her life, she'd relied on books to transport her through time and space. And now, something from a distant and mysterious land had been sent to her.

Reaching for the scissors, Jane severed the tape and pulled back the flaps to reveal a smaller box. This one was long and thin and made of wood, not cardboard. When Jane peeled away a layer of bubble wrap, a white notecard drifted onto her desk blotter. Jane scooped it up and read:

I find what has been lost, restore what has been damaged, and retrieve what has been stolen. This belongs to Storyton Hall. It was taken from your
library many years ago. When I return, I'd like to tell you the whole story. I can only hope that you'll be willing to listen.—E

“Who do you think you are? The Robin Hood of book thieves?” Jane scoffed. She was about to ball up his note when she remembered what Edwin had told Eloise. He'd said that he left the country on a mission to prove his character.

“What have you done, Edwin?” Jane whispered.

Easing the lid off the wooden box, she discovered a manuscript page captured in Plexiglas. The paper was yellow and brown-spotted with age. Most of the Latin text was printed in black, but one line was comprised entirely of red letters. The next line began with an oversized capital
O
. The letter was painted red and blue.

Jane examined the page for several minutes, noting the twin columns of text, the red lettering on the top margin, and the red embellishments on every capital letter.