“You’re a good girl,” Jackson said, and James could see that Lucy was pleased to receive some of Jackson’s rarely offered praise.
As the older couple drove off, Deputy Keith Donovan strutted over and stood squarely in front of James, invading his personal space in an attempt to be intimidating. Hands on his hips, as though he wore spurs and was about to draw a pair of revolvers and gun down an outlaw, Keith looked James over and made it clear that he was unimpressed by what he saw.
“You’re always sniffing around my crime scenes, librarian,” he growled. “And here I thought you only got turned on by books.”
“Books are more enriching than you’d ever know,” James answered, refusing to be baited by the red-haired deputy. “It’s too bad you don’t give one a try. You might widen your horizons, which are about as narrow as the space between my fingers.” James held up his gloved hand and pressed his fingers together.
Scowling, Donovan turned to Lucy. “While you were having a cozy chitchat session with his folks, the rangers have rappelled down the cliff. In case you’re interested, they’re ready to send the body up. I can take over the lead on this case if you’d rather stand around and run your mouth. Even better, you could go fetch the men coffee and donuts and let us handle everything.” He spat derisively on the ground. “That’s the way things should be anyhow.”
“Piss off, Donovan. You couldn’t solve a Hardy Boys mystery, let alone a real one,” Lucy hissed, and then walked away toward the ambulance.
Recognizing that his presence might compromise Lucy’s authority, James pretended to return to the Bronco, but he made a wide arc as he walked in order to take a glimpse over the edge of the overlook. Glancing down, he saw Chase’s rental car. It had fallen nose-down and the bumper had smashed right into the jagged, rock-strewn bottom. James had no talent for guessing distances, but the car had plummeted at least one hundred feet before impact. The front half had folded into itself like a paper fan, and James couldn’t imagine what a human body would look like compared to this contorted wreckage of metal.
“You were an ass, Chase Martin, but I sure hope you were unconscious before that fall,” James whispered into the frosty air. Having viewed the mangled car, he retreated from the lip of grass, feeling deeply cold both inside and out. Wanting nothing more than to be comforted by the presence of stacks and stacks of books, hushed voices, and the murmur of the library’s ancient furnace, James got in his truck and headed back to Quincy’s Gap.
It wasn’t his intention to stop at the Sweet Tooth, but when he saw Megan Flowers sweeping the bakery’s stoop, his impulses switched to autopilot, and he pulled into a parking space in front of the store.
“Good morning, Professor!” Megan welcomed him. “Staff meeting today?”
James nodded in surprise. “I almost forgot all about that! If I hadn’t seen you, I would have driven right by.”
“Lucky you, then. I’ve made some heavenly cinnamon buns,” she said with a smile. “Fresh from the oven and just dripping warm maple-walnut frosting.”
“Those will definitely work,” James said, trying to retain enough control over his appetite to refrain from asking for an éclair, a Long John, or a jelly-filled donut to cram into his mouth in the privacy of his truck. “But don’t let me order anything for myself,” he begged. “I’m stressed right now and am trying to master my cravings when I feel like this.”
Megan studied James with concern. “Here.” She handed him a thin sliver of raisin bread. “You just need to chew on something, but it doesn’t need to be an entire layer cake. A few plump raisins combined with a crisp, buttery crust should settle you down without ruining your diet.”
She was right. Munching the fresh bread, with its ribbons of cinnamon and fresh, moist raisins, James felt himself relaxing. By the time he finished the snack, his intense desire to rapidly consume a pastry had passed.
“You are a wonderful woman.” He kissed Megan on the cheek. “Can you slice a loaf of that bread for me to take home to Milla and Pop? I believe it has magical healing powers.”
“Everything okay, James? You’re not fretting over that silly book, are you?” Megan shouted over the noise of the bread slicer.
“Ugh,” James groaned. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
“Easy to do, what with everybody talking about Gillian and Bennett.”
“People won’t discuss the two lovebirds for long,” James answered glumly. “Happy endings don’t make for good gossip.”
Megan handed him the cinnamon buns and bread. “I’m afraid that’s true. And the ending of Murphy’s book sure isn’t happy, even though it’s already been adding more dollars to my cash register. No complaints here about her writing about that poor boy who died here.”
James wasn’t interested in recalling the supper club’s first murder case. “What happens at the end of the book?”
“It’s too awful to say out loud, so you’ll just have to read it for yourself.” Megan patted him on the arm, wished him a lovely day, and then busied herself arranging a tray of black and white cookies.
James left the shop in a state of puzzlement, but he didn’t have much time to think about Chase Martin or Murphy’s books, because he reached the library within a few minutes. UPS had delivered boxes of books the day before, and Murphy’s book must have been inside one of the boxes because when James reached the circulation desk, the twins were each poring over a copy.
“This is the only chance we’re going to get to look at this book,” Francis explained apologetically. “We’ve got eighty-five requests for our three copies, and I heard Murphy’s going to be on The Today Show next week.”
“Why?” James asked crisply. “It’s a run-of-the-mill thriller. Dozens of books just like hers were released this month, so why is she getting that kind of publicity?”
“The show’s teaser mentioned the book in conjunction with the sudden death of the Diva of Dough,” Scott answered after a moment’s hesitation. “I think they’re going to spin that event so that it looks like Murphy has an insider’s perspective and a possible subject for her next mystery.”
“The mystery angle may prove correct.” James sighed heavily and told the Fitzgerald brothers about Chase’s death.
“Are you sure you should be here, Professor?” Francis eyed his boss carefully. “We can handle things if you need to hang out with Milla.”
The young man’s caring nature touched James. “Thanks, Francis, but we’re just a bit shocked. There’s nothing we can do about what happened, so we might as well put our heads down and get on with our day.”
Scott tapped on Murphy’s book. “I don’t know what the Cellulite Club would do, but when this town’s been in trouble before, we could always look to your supper club to straighten things out.”
“You’re right!” James stared at Scott and then clapped the twin fondly on the back. “I’ll call a meeting for tonight. We can’t allow people to be pushed off our mountains!” he exclaimed. “We need to act!”
Scott and Francis watched their boss hurry into this office where he switched on his computer. “Way to distract him,” he heard Francis whisper. “He’s going to get all kind of grief from that book as it is.”
“I wasn’t trying to distract him,” Scott replied. “I meant what I said. Our boss is like a librarian superhero.”
“Dude, that would make an awesome graphic novel!” Francis remarked enthusiastically and the pair moved off, exchanging character, plot, and costume ideas.
“I hope they don’t make me wear a cape,” James muttered with a grin.
The supper club members didn’t have much time to prepare an elaborate meal for that evening, and since Bennett and James were interested in relatively low-calorie food, the five friends e-mailed one another until they agreed upon a simple, well-balanced meal. James assumed Lucy would be far too busy to cook, so he informed her via e-mail that she was exempt from having to bring anything but information to the Henry table. He then called Milla to forewarn her that she and Jackson should expect the supper club members to appear between six and six thirty.