A Novel Death: a Danger Cove Bookshop Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 10) (8 page)

"Are you okay? Can you stand?"

"I think so," I said and immediately regretted my quick response, because he let go of me and went back to the spot below the dog.

He put his hands on his hips and looked up, and Winslow looked down with a whine. I stretched my legs and tried to walk without looking like a cowpoke in an old western.

"How do we get the dog down now?" Mrs. Fitzwilliams asked from her perch on the chaise lounge on the small deck. I was certain she was using the royal
we
as she looked awfully comfortable in the padded chair, and she was probably not going to be much help either.

"Mrs. Fitzwilliams, do you have a ladder?" I asked.

"A ladder? Oh yes. In my garage." She stretched out, felt the thick padding on the lounge, and seemed to settle in a bit deeper.

"You stay there," I said. "We'll get it."

Adam gave me a hint of a smile and followed me out of the yard and around the corner, and we found the ladder in the back of the tidy two-car garage. Adam hefted it over his shoulder, and I couldn't help but notice how gracefully he moved.

"Is that going to be tall enough?" I asked, walking beside him. My legs were loosening up, and walking wasn't as much of an effort now. But I did feel a slight cool breeze against my skin from the hole in my inseam.

"Should be. I'm surprised your ladder didn't split in two, it's so old. You shouldn't have been climbing on that."

"It was all I had, and there was a dog stuck in a tree, who really didn't want to be there," I said.

He nodded. "That dog gets out of his yard all the time and gets into all sorts of trouble."

Winslow greeted our return with another mournful whine as Adam set up the ladder below the branch I'd been stranded on. Then he climbed up until he could pull himself onto the branch and stood on it. Leaning forward, he stroked the dog's ears, and then with a quick move he grabbed the dog around the middle and hauled Winslow back against his body. Winslow clung to Adam as they made their way back down. When he hit the ground, he set the dog down and then looked up at the cat, who was still sitting on the branch, staring at us.

"I think the cat will come down on its own, once Winslow is gone," he said, and as if to prove his point, the cat descended to a lower branch and curled up.

Winslow was sniffing every inch of my backyard, and Mrs. Fitzwilliams scolded him as she shuffled off the deck and toward the gate. "That dog is always rooting through my plants. Pippa needs to get a fence for that yard."

"Pippa?" I asked.

"Yes, Winslow is Pippa Montague's dog. He's a runner. Likes to take off and roam around," Adam said.

I promised to bring the ladder back later and thanked Mrs. Fitzwilliams for helping me, and she gave me a wave as she rounded the corner to walk back to her house. Adam leaned the ladder against the fence.

"Sure you don't want me to carry it back?" he asked.

"No, I can handle it," I said. The ladder wasn't that heavy. It was just long, and if I had to, I'd drag it.

"Guess I'll take him home." Adam whistled, and Winslow ran across the yard, his tongue hanging out.

"Wait!" I said. "Can I come with you?"

Adam tilted his head. "I guess so. Why?"

I tried to come up with a good excuse, but nothing came to mind.

"Well, he was stuck in my tree," I said, and Adam's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Okay, I'd like to meet Pippa Montague."

Adam stood still and kept his gaze on me.

"Because her ex-husband was killed in my shop."

"Does this have something to do with the cat hair?"

I nodded.

"You're not going to interrogate her, are you?"

I smiled. "I don't interrogate. I charm."

For a moment, he didn't respond, and then he shook his head. But when he looked back at me, he was smiling wide enough to show off a dimple in his left cheek.

"I suppose there's no harm in letting you help me deliver Winslow," he said. "And I want to see someone try to charm Mrs. Montague."

Pippa Montague still lived in the large house, in the Craggy Hills Estates, that she'd bought following her divorce from Cal. According to my mother, this purchase had fueled the rumor that Pippa had gotten a bundle out of her ex when they'd split. It was a two-story white house that sat back from the quiet road.

Adam pulled into the long driveway that curved in front of the porch, parking by the front door. When we got out, Winslow bolted toward the tall wooden fence that barricaded the backyard, jumped up onto a neatly stacked cord of firewood, and easily leapt over into the backyard.

Pippa walked out to greet us, wearing a cream-colored suit with a pale-blue silk top under the jacket. From her appearance, I would have guessed that we caught her on her way to a wedding, or at least a fancy tea party.

"Good evening, Dr. Whitaker," she said. She walked down the steps to meet us, her lustrous copper hair sculpted into a helmet that moved as one unit in the evening breeze. "Hello, I'm Pippa Montague."

She extended her hand to me as she introduced herself.

"Meri Sinclair," I said with my best PR smile. I ignored that I was wearing a dusty sweatshirt and torn jeans. "Winslow got stuck in a tree in my backyard, and Dr. Whitaker and I were just returning him."

Pippa looked around, and if her chemically frozen forehead could have registered confusion, I'm sure it would have.

"He jumped back over the fence," Adam said.

She shook her head. "That dog. I don't know why my husband insists on having such difficult breeds."

It was my turn to look confused. I hadn't heard that Pippa was remarried, and because she still used Cal's last name, it hadn't occurred to me to ask.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked.

"Oh, that's—"

"That would be lovely," I said, interrupting Adam's polite demur. "You have a beautiful home."

Pippa gave me a gracious smile. "Thank you. Aren't you the girl who just took over the bookstore?"

I bristled at the description. I was 30, so well out of girl territory. And I was super sensitive to the fact that at a scant five foot three, I was forever being mistaken for a teenager. But I was trying to make nice, so I flashed Pippa a smile.

"That's me."

"Please come in," Pippa said, opening the door and ushering us inside the spacious living room, which was decorated mostly in white and pale-pastel shades of peach and taupe. If Pippa were to sit on the pristine sofa, she'd disappear against the cream fabric. A large stone fireplace dominated one wall. An antique rifle was displayed on the wooden mantel, under the large mounted head of an elk. On either side of that poor unfortunate creature were two smaller bucks—both five-pointers.

"My son just arrived home, and we're making the arrangements for my late husband's funeral."

Now my head was really spinning. Pippa had just confirmed what my mother had told me, but technically wasn't Cal her late
ex
-husband? And what about the husband she'd referred to earlier? My quick glance around the room didn't help. There were two large floral arrangements, the type that one would send after a death in the family. A few family photos were scattered around the room, displayed on the marble mantel and on the bookcase against one wall. In one framed photograph, Pippa and David held up a brace of pheasants. They were decked out in camouflage gear and holding shotguns.

On a tufted ottoman was a fluffy blond cat curled up into a ball that was nearly camouflaged against the light-colored fabric. It watched us with wide green eyes but didn't move. Instinctively, I took a half step backward, running up against Adam's chest.

He steadied me, then stepped around me and picked up the cat, which purred and nestled against his chest. I tried not to be jealous—of both of them. I'd always wanted a cat because they looked like they'd be such good snugglers. And while I hadn't always dreamed about rubbing up against a tall and brawny vet, this one was kind of growing on me.

With great effort, I focused my attention back on Pippa and her comment about the funeral.

"Oh yes, I'm so sorry about your loss," I said. "Did you get to spend time with Mr. Montague before…"

Pippa's eyes narrowed, and if it weren't for the Botox, I think she could have shot lasers at me. "No. I haven't seen Cal in years."

My mother's warning about asking Pippa questions about her ex-husband rang in my ears. Before I could ask a follow-up question, a man walked down the stairs, a cell phone jammed against his face, and I nearly did a double take as I got a look at him—he had the same eyes, the same shock of hair, and the same butternut-squash-shaped head as Cal. He hung up the phone and walked toward Adam and me with a warm smile.

"Hello, I'm David," he said, extending a hand.

Adam introduced us and explained that we were there to return the dog, and David smiled again. "My stepfather loves that dog. Thank you for bringing him back. Can I get you some coffee?"

"No, thank you. We can't stay," Adam said, putting a hand on my shoulder. He was a fast learner, because I was on the verge of accepting the coffee to get the chance to spend time with David Montague.

"Ms. Sinclair owns the bookstore, David," Pippa said in a tone that implied far more than that simple fact.

David gave me a sympathetic smile. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Were you the one who…"

I nodded before he had to go any further. "Yes, and I am very sorry for your loss. I only spoke to your father briefly, but I enjoyed meeting him."

He took my hand and squeezed it. "Thank you. I know it meant a lot to him to be able to come home to launch his book tour. I hope your business isn't unduly burdened by this mess."

David's eyes were the same shade of brilliant blue as his father's, but there was a huge difference in the way he held eye contact and the sincerity that shone through his gaze. No matter how good an actor Cal had been, he wouldn't have been able to fake that.

"The store has been around for nearly forty years. It will be fine," I said, and fervently hoped I was right.

Pippa joined her son, standing next to him and placing a hand on his arm. "You need to talk with the pastor about the service, dear."

David nodded, patted his mother's hand, and gave me a warm smile. "Thank you for coming by."

"We should be going," Adam said. "I'm sure you're busy with the funeral arrangements."

David shrugged. "My mother is taking care of most of that."

We turned to go, and I saw a photo on the end table of David in a cap and gown, with a younger woman standing next to him. She looked like she was still in her teens, a youthful face and bright-blue eyes. She looked familiar, and after a second, I placed her—Cecilia Evers, Cal's niece and the drama teacher at the high school. I hadn't met her yet, but Katya had pointed her out in some of the photos from the book signing.

David must have caught me staring, because he picked up the frame, looking at the photograph with affection. "My cousin, Cecilia. We were raised like siblings. She's like the little sister I never had. She still lives here in Danger Cove."

"Yes, I've seen her around. I've only just returned to town, so I haven't met her yet," I said. "I think she's just a few years older than me."

"Cecilia went to a private arts academy in Seattle, so she didn't spend a lot of time in Danger Cove once she was in high school," David said, his eyes still focused on the photograph in his hand. "This was my college graduation ceremony. Ceci surprised me by arranging to have my dad come to the ceremony. He'd been in Italy, and I didn't think he was going to make it."

"You have the same eyes," I said.

"No, they don't," Pippa said sharply. "Cecilia is adopted."

"Oh," I said. "Must be the power of suggestion."

"They're not related," Pippa reiterated.

David set the photo down with a sharp thump. "Ceci was adopted as an infant by my aunt Lorraine and uncle Glen."

Pippa glared at me as Adam steered me toward the door. "Thank you for inviting us in," he said, hurrying me out onto the porch. "Good luck with Winslow."

When the door shut behind us, it was like a cloud of tension lifting. I hadn't realized how uncomfortable Pippa Montague had made me until she was out of sight. Adam and I walked to the car in silence, and he held the passenger door for me. We didn't talk until we were on our way out the driveway.

"That cat," I said.

"Yes."

"Was that a buff-colored cat?"

"I would say so, yes," Adam said.

I nodded and thought about that. Pippa had denied seeing Cal. And while it was a long-haired cat, it didn't necessarily place Cal at his ex-wife's house. There had been a lot of fur on his jacket, and if the cat hadn't been present in the room, I would never have guessed that Pippa even had a cat, because that room was spotless.

"I didn't know Pippa remarried."

"Her husband's name is William Biggar," Adam said. "He travels for work."

"Why wouldn't she have taken his last name?" I wondered.

Adam shot me a confused look. "I wouldn't know."

"Sorry, just thinking out loud," I said.

He pulled up in front of my house and parked by the curb. I'd forgotten to put on the porch light. I reached for the door handle, and it stuck. Adam reached across me to help, and my heart beat faster. This close, I could see the scruff of a day's growth of beard on his jaw, and he smelled like freshly sawn wood and something else that was masculine and comforting at the same time.

My nose tickled, and I clamped a hand over my mouth, managing not to sneeze all over the handsome vet's face.

"Bless you," he said, getting the door open.

My eyes watered, but when the dome light clicked on I could still see some scattered hairs on his T-shirt. Another sneeze built, and I struggled unsuccessfully to contain it.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I blinked my watering eyes and shook my head.

"I think I'm allergic to you."