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Authors: Elizabeth Lynn Casey

BOOK: Deadly Notions
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Tori studied the woman closely, the glow of excitement making her all the more alluring. “Is the pageant business really that big?”
“When you have virtually
all
of it, it certainly is.”
“Wow. I don’t know how you do it.”
A cloud passed across Beth’s eyes. “Do what?”
“This.” She pointed to the portfolio. “Designing these kinds of dresses while running the company, and traveling, and having a personal life. It seems like a lot.”
“I don’t have a personal life.”
“Too busy?” Tori turned the mug in her hands, the ceramic material no longer warm.
“No. I just haven’t seen the point in wasting time with anyone who isn’t perfect.”
“Perfect?”
“For me.”
She reached across the table, patted Beth’s hand atop the portfolio. “You’ll find him.”
“Oh, I found him. I found him a long time ago.” Beth wrapped her long slender fingers around the handle of the leather case and stepped down off her stool, the click of her heels and the sexy purr of her voice making more than a few heads turn in their direction. “Fifteen years ago, to be exact.”
Chapter 10
She pulled the ordering sheet closer to the computer and splayed her fingers across the keyboard. The best-selling author had always been wildly popular but his latest effort had blown away everyone’s expectations. The result? A lengthy wait list that was simply unacceptable for her patrons.
“How many more copies are you going to order?” Nina clutched a pile of books to her chest and peered over Tori’s shoulders.
“Two. That’ll get us up to six copies.” She typed in the necessary information and then pressed Send, the order form disappearing from her screen. “That should help cut down on the frustrated phone calls asking whether a copy has been returned yet.”
Nina laughed in her ear. “I think Mr. Monting has called every day for the past week.”
“When did the copies go out?”
“They all went out about the same time. Maybe nine days ago?”
“We should be seeing them back soon.” Tori punched in the title and read the names of the four people who had checked it out on the very first day. “Wait, maybe not. Tina Stewy took it on vacation. And, knowing her track record, she’ll be calling on the day it’s due asking for an extension. The second copy went to Carter Johnson, the third to his wife.”
“They both checked out a copy?”
Tori nodded. “They’re both huge fans and want to be able to talk about it the second they finish.”
Nina set the pile of books down to the left of the computer, her hands beginning the sorting process before they were even officially on the counter. “And the fourth?”
“The fourth . . . the fourth,” Tori repeated under her breath as she scrolled down the page. “The fourth went to Leona.”
“Leona?” Nina stopped sorting and turned toward Tori with rounded eyes. “I didn’t know Ms. Elkin read anything besides travel magazines.”
“She doesn’t usually. But when it comes to a Joseph Cappy book, she reads. And looks.”
“Looks?”
“At his author photo. Again and again and again.”
“She likes Joseph Cappy?” Nina asked.
“How could she not? Have you seen that mischievous crinkle beside his eyes? Those dimples in his cheeks?” They looked up as Leona, clad in a mint green skirt and jacket, strode across the room and plunked the coveted book on the counter beside Nina’s pile. “And let’s not forget those shoulders. They’re so broad, so powerful.”
Tori laughed. “Were your ears burning? Is that why you chose this very moment to walk in?”
“My ears are just fine.” Leona flipped the book over and pointed at the author photo on the back cover flap. “I think the photo he used last year was even better. I preferred the full body shot. It made it easier to picture the two of us together.”
“The two of you together?” Tori cast an amused glance in Nina’s direction.
“Of course, dear. We’d be perfect together. His strong, towering frame would compliment my smaller, more feminine shape.”
“I, uh, don’t know what to say.” She considered the head-and-shoulder shot the author had opted to use with his latest book. “And this picture doesn’t allow you to, um, picture the two of you together?”
“It’s a bit more difficult, dear. The arms are essential.”
The arms?
“Do you picture this often?”
Leona waved her manicured fingers in the air. “All the time. I bought a copy of last year’s book the second I saw the picture.”
“The second you saw the picture? Don’t you mean the second you realized it was such a good book?”
Tilting her head down, Leona pinned her with a stare across the top of her glasses. “No, dear, I mean precisely what I said. It’s why that book is still backside out on my bookshelf a year later.”
“Backside out?” she repeated, the hint of amusement in her question nearly impossible to miss. “That’s a book placement you don’t hear often, huh, Nina?”
Nina’s face grew darker as she nibbled back her infamous shy smile. “I better get back to work. Are you going to take your dinner before I leave for the day?”
Tori glanced at her watch, noted the late afternoon hour. “I probably should.” Turning to her friend, she motioned toward the hallway. “Would you like to come sit with me in my office, Leona? I have enough for both of us.”
“I’ll come sit, dear. But I’m not hungry.”
Shrugging, Tori grabbed her purse from beneath the information desk and led the way toward her office, the pitter-patter of Leona’s shoes following closely behind. When they reached the room she shared with Nina, she gestured her friend inside. “Mr. Monting will be very pleased with you, Leona.”
“Calob Monting?”
Tori nodded.
“I’d be surprised if he wasn’t.”
“Oh?”
A knowing smile spread across the sixty-something’s face. “We had quite the evening a few years back.”
Tori held up her hands, palms out, and dropped into her desk chair. “More details than I want to know, Leona.”
Leona’s brows furrowed as she, too, sat. “Then what are you talking about, dear?”
“The book? The one you just returned?” She set her purse at her feet then reached into the bottom drawer for her brown paper dinner sack, her hands finding the opening in record fashion. “Mr. Monting is top on the wait list.”
“Oh.” Leona made a face then swept her gaze around the room. “You really should paint this place. Give it a more romantic feel.”
“A romantic feel?” Tori slipped her hand into the sack and pulled out a tuna salad sandwich, an apple, a chocolate chip cookie, and a napkin. “It’s just an office, Leona. It really doesn’t need a romantic feel.”
For a moment Leona said nothing, her gaze following Tori’s every move as she spread the napkin across her desk and situated her food on top. “Does Milo ever come to visit you here at work?”
She raised the sandwich to her mouth and took a bite. “He does.”
“Are you ever alone in here?” Leona looked from the sandwich to Tori and back again, a hint of disgust tugging her lips downward. “Really, dear, you should consider what you eat. Bread is just not good for your figure.”
“My—” She stopped mid-chew and glanced down at her satiny blouse and pencil skirt. “My figure is fine. Slight, but fine.”
Leona opened her mouth to say something but closed it once again.
“And as for your question about Milo, sure, he comes to my office at times when Nina is either busy on the floor or off work. Why?”
“Romantic colors on the wall would set the mood better.”
Tori set the sandwich down on the napkin and stared at her friend. “We’re talking about my office, Leona. Inside the Sweet Briar Public Library.”
“I’m aware of that, dear.” Leona swiveled a hairbreadth in her chair then crossed her ankles delicately to her side. “How are things going with Milo?”
Bringing the apple to her lips, she shrugged. “They’re good. Why?”
Leona leaned forward and dropped her voice to a near whisper. “Because you’ve got to be on your toes with that woman in town.”
“Woman?” The crunch of her apple echoed around the room. “What woman are you talking about?”
Leona rolled her eyes skyward. “The old college flame. The one who looks as if she stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine.”
She dropped her apple-holding hand to the top of the desk. “You saw her?”
“No, dear, but Debbie has.”
“Debbie said that? About the fashion magazine?”
Leona nodded. “We need to make sure she doesn’t win, dear.”
“Win?” She glanced down at the food on her napkin just in time to feel her appetite go riding off into the sunset. “Win what?”
“Milo.”
Pushing the napkin off to the side, she leaned back in her chair, the thoughts she’d managed to shrug off in favor of work resurfacing with a vengeance. “I’m not out to
win
Milo.”
Leona peered over her glasses. “Oh?”
“Milo and I are happy together. Beth Samuelson was years ago. Fourteen years ago to be exact.”
“Time has a way of slipping away, dear. Especially when someone’s on a mission.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“She’s after Milo.”
She closed her eyes against the words she didn’t want to believe, words Beth, herself, had certainly alluded to that morning at Debbie’s Bakery. “No, she’s not.”
“Oh no?” Leona crossed her arms. “Then why did Debbie say you looked so miserable after your little meeting with her this morning?”
Damn.
“I didn’t. I just—” And then she stopped, all further denial futile. “He says he’s not interested.”
Leona waved her hand above her head. “Which is neither here nor there, dear. A woman can break down virtually all walls of resistance if they want to. It’s a matter of using the proper tools.”
Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, Tori slumped back in her chair. “And she’s got those. In spades.”
Leona pulled her purse onto the desk and unzipped it, her hand locating and displaying a plethora of makeup products. “Anyone can highlight their tools, dear. That’s easy.”
“It is?”
The woman gestured around the room. “It’s the aura, the
mood
a man feels when he’s with you that really seals his fate.”
“You think it was mood that made every man in the bakery turn and stare at this woman?”
“No. Men are very predictable. They like the shiny object. It’s why I get so many looks everywhere I go.”
Tori nibbled back the urge to laugh. If there was one thing Leona wasn’t lacking, it was an ego. Granted, it was justified—she looked amazing for her age—but still, it was there. And then some.
“But it’s what you
exude
, dear, that keeps them focused—for the long haul . . . or as long as you decide.”
“Okay . . .” Tori spun her chair just enough to afford a view of the library grounds and the town square just beyond its perimeter. “Then I should be okay, right? Milo and I have a lot in common.”
“Common, schmommon. I’m talking about the attraction, the excitement, the
passion
.”
She spun back to view her friend. “Milo and I do fine. Just fine.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, dear. There shouldn’t be any
just
about passion. Not the kind that will make him stick around, anyway.”
Was Leona right? Did she need to spice things up a little? Had they gotten too comfortable with each other?
Comfortable is good.
She shook her head. “Can we not talk about this right now? Please?”
“I’m just trying to help, dear.”
“I know. And I appreciate it, Leona, I really do. It’s just—”
The ring of the branch phone cut her off mid-sentence. She picked it up and held it to her ear, glancing at the clock on the wall in the process.
“Good evening. Sweet Briar Public Library, how may I help you?”
“Yes, this is Regina Murphy.”
Tori gripped the phone tighter. “Oh, yes, Miss Murphy, how may I help you?”
“I had a call on my answering machine from a Nina Morgan. Is she in?”
She looked a question at Leona, noted the way her brows rose in response despite the woman’s inability to hear any part of the phone conversation. “She is, she’s on the floor right now.”
“Oh.” The tone that had sounded rushed now adopted a hint of tension as well. “Are you the one who was at that birthday party the other night?”
“Yes. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You can figure out which one of your friends murdered Ashley. Unless, of course, that someone was you.”
She felt her hand moisten around the receiver. “Miss Murphy, I’m sorry to hear about Ashley, I truly am.”
“Oh, give it up. You’re not sorry at all. None of you are.” A pause gave way to a secondary rush of words. “Look, I’m calling for one reason and one reason only. My bracelet.”

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