A Novel Death: a Danger Cove Bookshop Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 10) (17 page)

Cecilia stared at her mother. "But you did."

Astra nodded. "And I missed you every day. If I'd known where you were, I probably would have moved up here and insinuated myself into your life too. I can't blame Cal for what he did."

Adam gave my arm a gentle tug, and we took a couple of slow steps toward the corner so we could find another place to wait out the search. This wasn't our family reunion to attend, and unfortunately, it was hard to make a quiet exit in the small room. Also, there was no place to go but to the other end of the bookstore, and I didn't want to get in the way of the officers' search. I couldn't leave the shop with a huge gaping hole in the front window.

"Oh, Meri! I'm sorry! We should be having our family drama someplace else," Astra said, laughing through her tears.

"Why don't we go to my house?" Cecilia asked, taking her mother's hand. "I have so many questions for you."

Adam went to find Detective Marshall or someone else who could give us permission to leave. As he approached the break room, the back door opened, and Burt walked in.

"Doc Whitaker, what are you doing here?" he asked Adam, then looked at me. "You're okay?"

He glanced at the police milling about in the break room, then at Gibson, Astra, and Cecilia.

"I'm fine. How did you know what was going on?" I asked.

"Heard it on the scanner. Cops wouldn't let me get any closer than the end of the alley," he said, then hung his coat on the back of a chair in the break room. I glanced in and saw the lower half of Detective Marshall sticking out of the closet as he searched with a flashlight in the dark corners of the old closet.

"What's he looking for?" Burt asked.

"They have a search warrant to look for Cal's cell phone. It was traced here by the computer experts," I said.

"You're not supposed to know that." Detective Marshall emerged red faced from the depths of the closet. "There's nothing in that closet but dust from the last century."

He stomped out to the small hallway and barked orders at other officers.

Burt busied himself at the counter, opening the massive can of coffee and starting a pot. "Looks like it's going to be a long night. My brother's going to bring over plywood. Once he gets here, we'll get it boarded up. Don't you worry."

Taking a few steps toward him, my heart nearly burst. I was so lucky to have inherited Burt, Alicia, and Katya, along with the inventory and fixtures of the bookshop. I knew he'd resist, but I couldn't help it—I hugged him tight.

"Thank you," I said.

He awkwardly returned my hug and patted my head. "It's no big deal," he said gruffly.

This whole mess would be so much harder without supportive staff. As much as I liked to do things for myself, nailing up plywood until a contractor could replace the window was far from my skill set. I held on to Burt until he disengaged my arms to fill the coffeepot with water and place the glass carafe back on the burner.

"Call Alicia and let her know you're okay. If she hears this on the gossip network, she'll be worried," he said.

"I will. Can I borrow your phone?"

He patted his pockets and came up empty. "Sorry. I never carry my phone around. Think I left it in my underwear drawer last month."

"That's not yours?" I pointed at the phone next to the coffee tin.

He shook his head. "Nope. Not mine. Maybe it's Alicia's?"

I'd seen Alicia's phone encased in a Danger Cove High School booster case.

"I don't think it's hers," I said. "Katya is never without her phone, so it's not hers."

"And her phone is pink," Burt said.

I picked it up and hit the power button. The phone's screen lit up, and a list of unread messages popped into view. Behind the notifications, the backdrop was a black-and-white portrait—the same one that had been haunting me for the last couple of weeks, stacked in the center of the store, the face staring at me all day, every day.

Only Cal Montague would put a picture of himself as his screensaver.

"We should let Detective Marshall know," I said, reading the dead man's text message notifications with a hint of guilt. "I think this is Mr. Montague's phone."

Then I saw the last message received by Cal, just before he was killed.

"David sent his dad a text message on the night Cal was murdered," I said. "And he got two calls from Pippa Montague."

Detective Marshall had some choice words for me about handling the cell phone, including words like "obstruction of justice" and "tampering with evidence." And he was not at all interested in the fact that I didn't know it was Cal's phone until I saw the familiar face on the screen.

"I really think you need to talk with Astra and Cecilia and Gibson, and they're
right there
," I said, getting the words out fast because the detective was already herding me away from the break room.

"You. Go. Sit." His face was beet red as he pointed at the children's section again. I slunk back there and met Adam in the doorway by a display of coloring books.

"That man does not like being told how to do his job," Adam said.

"He won't even listen to me," I said.

"I'm starting to think he's not the brightest guy at the Danger Cove PD."

From the front of the store, I could hear Burt and Bill fitting plywood over the window. They looked so much alike they could be twins, and even their voices were nearly identical.

After a moment, Detective Marshall returned, his face no longer as angry a shade of red, but his frown looked permanent.

"Everyone can leave. If I have any follow-up questions, I will contact you," he said, addressing the five of us in the children's section. Then he gave me a very pointed stare before he turned and walked toward the back of the store.

That wasn't going to happen, at least not for me.

"I'm going to stay for a while and clean up. Burt can drive me home later," I said.

"I'll stay," Adam said, running a hand over his already mussed hair. "I'm going to see if Burt and Bill need help."

The phone had sat next to the coffeepot for more than a week before we noticed it, but I was worried sick about leaving it in Detective Marshall's hands. It was proof that there was something going on with the Montagues.

The sound of my own cell phone ringing reminded me that I needed to call Alicia and my mother before they raced down to the bookstore to make sure I was safe. Too late—it was Alicia. I silenced the phone and sent her a text message that Burt was already at the store and not to worry.

"I think you need to talk with Detective Marshall," I said to Cecilia, who was preparing to leave. It was really more of a hope that the detective would speak with people who had important information about the murder victim. But then I recalled the text message that I'd seen on the screen. "Why would Pippa call Cal before the book signing?"

Cecilia shook her head. "There's no way. She can hardly speak his name."

"There were two unanswered calls from her on his phone."

"I honestly don't think they've spoken since my mom died two years ago," she said.

"There was a text from David, then two calls," I said.

Cecilia stood still, her brow furrowed. "Did you see David's text? Because he called Uncle Cal that afternoon, and they spoke briefly."

"It just said
be there soon
. But it was sent around 5:45," I said. "But David was in Los Angeles."

Cecilia's eyes widened. "I—ah, I need to see David."

She ran toward the front of the store, nearly colliding with Burt before she barreled out the door. Gibson chased her but came back a moment later.

"She's gone!" he said. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I told her about the text message from David to his father."

"Oh no! She's not going to Pippa's house, is she?" Astra cried out, clutching at Gibson's arm.

I whirled around, looking for a cop, but they'd already cleared out. But Adam was nearby.

I grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the back door. "Cecilia's going to Pippa's house. David's there. We have to go."

To his credit, Adam no longer seemed fazed by unexpected detours in this date. We ran to his car, and within a minute the four of us were driving out to the high-end subdivision on the edge of Danger Cove.

A cluster of cars sat in the driveway, and Cecilia's distinct yellow VW Beetle was front and center, blocking in a gray rental car parked at a haphazard angle. The house was lit up, and warm amber light spilled out of the front windows. Gibson and Astra ran toward the house. Before going up the steps to the front door, I walked by the other two cars and felt the hoods. The gray car's hood was warm. Pippa's car was cold.

Adam raised an eyebrow at my detour but didn't say anything.

The sound of raised voices was barely muffled by the heavy door that was partially open.

David was leaning against the doorway that led to a dining room, and his eyes narrowed at the site of Adam and me joining the group.

"I wasn't expecting a party," he said.

Cecilia walked around a long off-white couch toward him.

"Cecilia, you were supposed to be here hours ago. Mother and I wanted to talk about something, ah, sensitive," David said, shoving off the wall and walking to where Pippa sat near the fireplace. She didn't stand as we entered but looked us all over with a slow appraisal that found us not to her impeccable standards.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure I won't mind if my friends stay for it," Cecilia said.

Pippa stood at that, walked over to a side table, and refilled her empty glass from a crystal decanter. She did not offer any of us refreshments, and she knocked that bourbon back with the skill of a back-alley hobo.

Then she turned back to her son. "Tell her."

"We've met with a lawyer, Cecilia. He thinks that we should challenge my father's will," he said.

"You'll get nothing," Cecilia said. "The will has a clause—"

"The attorney says we can get past that. If my father was misled or if he was of unsound mind, the will can be declared invalid," David said.

Cecilia stood still for a moment, then looked at David. "Is that what you want to do?"

He glanced at his mother, then back to Cecilia, and he nodded. "The estate would be split up according to his previous will, or if he didn't have one, then according to the state law."

"And under that law David will get everything because he's Cal's child," Pippa said. Despite the liquor, her voice was steady and sure.

Cecilia smiled. "You're wrong."

"What are you talking about?" David didn't look confused—he looked angry. His face hardened, and his body tensed. And he was standing within arm's reach of Cecilia. Gibson took a step forward so he was standing behind her.

"Uncle Cal was my father too," Cecilia said.

Pippa threw the empty glass to the floor, where it bounced off the plush carpet—probably not the effect she'd been going for.

"That's insane," she said. "Your adoption records are sealed."

"Cal admitted it to me," Gibson said. "I have the emails. The voicemail recordings."

David took a step backward, his face falling. But he covered his disappointment quickly. Pippa's stony glare turned into a snarl as she glanced between Cecilia and Astra and noted the resemblance.

"And I suppose you're the little tramp he knocked up," Pippa said.

Cecilia straightened her spine and glared at her aunt. "Do not talk to my mother like that."

Pippa rolled her eyes. "Doesn't it seem odd that her 'mother' came out of the woodwork just days after you learned that you're inheriting several million dollars?"

Several million dollars? I was a little surprised by the figure. Cal had been a working actor for many years, but I never thought that was blockbuster-levels of money. Maybe he was better with his money than most actors and had socked away his income. Or made good investments. Or did porn.

My brain balked at that thought, and I turned my attention back to Pippa, who was stalking Cecilia like a predator across the formal room. "David is Cal's son. He was his only child. He should get the entire estate."

"That was Cal's decision to make," Cecilia said. "But I'm not here to talk about that. I want to know which one of you shot out Meri's bookshop tonight."

Pippa scoffed. "Now you're accusing us of vandalism?"

"No. Attempted murder." Cecilia seemed to be growing a spine in the face of her ugly family. Maybe the realization that she could trade up gave her some confidence. I silently cheered her on from where I stood next to Adam, on the edge of the living room.

"We didn't have anything to do with that," David said. "It's the first we even heard of it."

They were nowhere near as good at acting as Cal had been. David looked defeated, and Pippa enraged.

"Honestly, Cecilia, I'm shocked at what you're saying, but I couldn't be happier to learn that you're my sister," David said. They were the right words, but his delivery was off, as if he was having to say them while chewing broken glass. "You're family. It doesn't matter to me if that's as my cousin or my sister."

Pippa's rage overcame her Botox, and she snarled at her niece. "How dare you accuse David of murder. David was in Los Angeles when his father was killed. I told the police that. He didn't arrive until a couple days later."

The room went silent, and everyone stared at Pippa.

"I didn't accuse him of murder," Cecilia said.

"Well, I will," I said, stepping forward. Adam grabbed my arm to keep me from going too far. "You sent your father a text message before he was shot. You were arranging to meet with him."

David's face contorted and paled.

"That's not— His phone is missing. The police can't find it. They searched everywhere," he said.

Everywhere but behind Burt's massive can of coffee.

"You broke into the store looking for it, didn't you? Well, I found it," I said. "I saw your messages. Detective Marshall has it now."

Cecilia took another step forward. "And you talked to Uncle Cal that afternoon, when he was at my house. He made sure to sign a copy of his book for you before he left. Because he was going to see you later, right, David? You weren't in Los Angeles. You were here."

David looked around the room, took a shallow breath, and then let out a low moan and clutched at his hair.

"Cecilia, listen to me. Before you jump to any conclusions, I was defending you," David said quickly, trying to sound contrite but falling short. Instead, he had the tone of a man who realized that he didn't have a leg to stand on and needed to negotiate. "I got an early copy of the book, and I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't see me in LA. So I came up here to talk with him, and he told me."

"Oh my God, David. What did you do?" Cecilia asked, her voice low and wavering.

"He lied to all of us. He manipulated everyone. How could he do that?" David said. His voice was anguished. "Did you read his book? He treated everyone horribly. He treated Mom worst of all, flaunting all his affairs in his book."

David's face crumpled as he looked at his mother, who was glaring at us like a wet cat.

"But he didn't tell you. He was just playing with me, lying to me. I saw him walk out of your house that afternoon, and I knew he didn't have the guts to tell you that he was your father," David said. His voice was rising in anger again. "He was afraid that you'd reject him. That you'd never look at him like he was your hero again."

Cecilia shook her head. "No, he never told me."

"And when I saw him at the bookstore, I knew he wasn't going to change. He was just going to hold that over my head and threaten to disclose it," David said. "You have to believe me, Cecilia. We argued, but I never meant to shoot him. I just wanted him to know that I was serious. That what he did was horrible. But he grabbed the gun, and it went off. It was an accident! You get it, right?"

I looked around and saw everyone in the room as shocked as I felt.

Pippa rushed forward and reached into her purse on the side table near the door to the kitchen and pulled out a small handgun.

"Whoa!" Gibson pulled Cecilia away, putting her and Astra behind him.

Adam pushed me behind him and held his hand up.

"Mrs. Montague, we can resolve this peacefully," he said, his voice low and steady. My heart pounded, and I could only focus on the small silver gun in Pippa's shaky hand.

"Mother, put down the gun," David said. "Just put it down."

Pippa's rage seemed to slip for a moment, and she realized what she was doing, and the gun shook a little harder. Now that she had everyone's attention, she didn't seem to know who to shoot, and the gun wobbled as she panned the room, panic finally filtering past the Botox.

"He didn't mean to do it!" she yelled. "And Cal was a sorry son of a bitch!"

"Mother, stop!" David yelled. "This isn't helping."

He took a step toward her, cautiously and with his hands held up, but Astra took advantage of the distraction. She launched herself across the carpet, tackling Pippa and knocking her to the floor. As the two women hit the carpet, their hands met around the gun.

The sharp crack of the gunfire rang out.

Adam pulled me to the floor for the second time that night. The gun flew across the room, landing about six feet in front of Adam and me.