Free Arsenic and Old Books by Miranda James Page A

had better be Maxwell. Ninety-nine is far too attractive.”
    I gave her a quick kiss, and we said good-bye. “Come on, Diesel. Time for the bookstore.”
    The bookstore was only a short walk from the bakery. The early afternoon sun was hot, but most of the storefronts had awnings. Diesel and I kept in the shade on the way, but I was feeling sweaty by the time we opened the door at the Athenaeum and stepped inside.
    As I let the door swing shut behind Diesel and me, I paused to drink in the smells and the atmosphere of the bookstore. There was no place I liked better, except a library. To be surrounded by so many books made me happy. The large space—around four thousand square feet—contained many freestanding shelves, and all the walls were lined with them as well. Comfortable chairs were scattered about, creating small nooks where a customer could relax and check out a few pages of possible purchases.
    Soft classical music wafted through the space, and I recognized a Telemann oboe sonata. Perfect mood music for browsing. I didn’t see the owner, Jordan Thompson, anywhere, but the tall redhead would be easy to spot. Diesel meowed, and I knew he was urging me to go in search of Jordan.
    â€œNo treats,” I told him as we moved farther into the store. I saw only four customers in the front area. I headed toward the back, where the mysteries were shelved. Jordan had a shelf there for the latest arrivals, and I wanted to see what new titles might tempt me.
    I heard the murmur of voices in the back corner of the section as I approached. I paused by the new arrivals shelf to scan the titles, and I picked up one hardcover with an intriguing cover illustration. An old house on the cover always snagged my interest, and this one looked promising. When I realized it was a ghost story, though, I put it back. I liked ghost stories occasionally, but I wasn’t in the mood for one now.
    Diesel muttered, but I ignored him. He wanted to find Jordan, but I wasn’t going to let him loose in here. He would have to wait. Besides, I realized, she might not even be here. One of her assistants could be running the store instead.
    I moved toward the back of the section against the wall and the beginning of the alphabet. A tall, freestanding set of shelves separated me from the continuation of the section around the corner. The sound of voices grew louder the closer I came to the back wall.
    With a start, I recognized the voices and halted.
    â€œHow long before you find out anything worthwhile?” Jasper Singletary sounded impatient. “The evidence ought to be there somewhere; you just have to find it. My grandmother swears to it.”
    â€œI’m doing my best,” Kelly Grimes responded, sounding exasperated. “I told you, I have to have access if I’m going to look, and I haven’t been able to get access. If someone would just push Marie Steverton over a cliff, that would help.”
    Diesel chose that moment to start chirping—loudly—and the conversation on the other side of the shelf ceased. I turned to see Jordan Thompson headed our way, and Diesel strained at the leash to go to her. I let him go and turned back to listen, hoping to hear more.
    I heard the sound of stealthy footsteps. I stepped around the shelf to the other side, but all I saw were the backs of the rapidly retreating pair.
    â€œHey, there, Charlie.” Jordan Thompson claimed my attention, and I walked around the shelf to see her squatting down so that her head was level with the cat’s. They rubbed noses, and Jordan laughed, her short, curly red hair bouncing around her head.
    â€œAfternoon, Jordan,” I said. “Diesel and I thought we’d drop by, since we haven’t been here in at least a week.” Even though I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, I was sorry Diesel and Jordan had interrupted whatever was going on between Jasper Singletary and Kelly Grimes. I had a fleeting thought