Body in the Books, page 1
Body in the Books
A Nora Jones Mystery
Heather Huffman
Copyright © 2021 by Heather Huffman
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Cover design by Madhat Studios
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.
Contents
. Chapter
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
Author's Note
Also by Heather Huffman
About the Author
For JC.
You bring more sunshine into this world than you’ll ever know—and certainly into mine. Thank you for being my bookish partner-in-crime, for your unwavering support, and for your friendship.
Chapter One
“Oh, good. You’re here.”
Nora was startled by the greeting, unsure how the frazzled woman behind the desk knew who she was or why she was happy to see her.
The tiny brunette frowned when Nora didn’t respond quickly enough. “You are the dog walker, aren’t you?”
“No, sorry.” The woman looked so disappointed that Nora almost wished she’d lied. Still, she couldn’t help asking, “There’s a dog? I love dogs.”
The woman shook her head. “You wouldn’t love this one. It’s crazy.”
Nora wasn’t certain how to respond to that. “I’m Nora. Nora Jones. I believe Raymond Everly is expecting me.”
“Wonderful—even better.” The receptionist brightened briefly before her face fell. “Forget what I said about the dog being crazy.”
“Okayyy.” She drew the word out, even less sure how to respond to that.
“I’ll let Ray know you’re here.”
“Thank you.” Nora brushed the sides of her blouse, more out of nervous energy than from the need to straighten it. She stood somewhat awkwardly a moment before deciding to sit and had only just perched on the edge of a chair when a seventy-something gentleman in a linen suit appeared in the doorway.
“Ms. Jones? I’m Raymond Everly. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” His smile was warm as he pretended not to notice the awkward “handshake or no handshake” dance that passed between them.
“Please call me Nora, Mr. Everly.”
“Of course, but then you should call me Raymond. Your uncle was a very dear friend to me. You remind me of him a bit—same dark hair and eyes. Same demeanor.”
“I’m afraid I never knew Uncle Walter.”
“Something he deeply regretted, my dear.”
Nora was saved from having to come up with a reply when a wild-haired redhead with a child on her hip swept into the office like a gust of wind blowing in a summer storm.
“Hi! I’m late. I’m so sorry I’m late,” the newest member of the party announced.
“Are we expecting you?” The woman behind the reception desk asked with some measure of hesitancy in her voice.
“I’m the dog walker.” The redhead looked at her expectantly. “The agency sent me.”
“Oh. My. Well.” The receptionist looked to Ray helplessly and then back to the woman. “I’ll be with you in just one moment.”
Nora wondered what she’d just stumbled into and where this mysterious dog was. Before she could satiate her curiosity, Raymond was ushering her back toward his office.
“Did you have a pleasant trip?” He asked as they both settled into their seats.
“Quite pleasant, thank you.”
“And you drove straight through?”
“Straight through. Though I must confess to meandering a bit in Arizona. It felt wrong to pass so close to the Grand Canyon and the Painted Desert without having at least a quick peek. And I took a day to pamper myself in Dallas. And Pensacola. But otherwise, straight through.”
“Still, it’s an impressive feat. I’m surprised you chose to drive instead of fly.”
“I was inspired by a friend who did the drive the other direction. And I wasn’t sure how long I’d be here, so it just made sense to bring my car, I suppose. I’ve checked in over at the St. Francis Inn. It’s quite lovely.”
“Not Lily’s room, I hope?”
“No, the Garcia Suite, I believe. Why?”
“No matter.” He waved her off before she could spend too much time pondering who Lily was or what was wrong with her room. “You could stay at Walter’s if you wanted. That is part of the estate he left you.”
“I honestly hadn’t even considered that. I don’t know. It feels a bit invasive, I suppose.”
“I’m sure it’ll take some time to process all of this. Shall we get to it, then?”
“Please.” Nora was grateful the pleasantries were over. Raymond had not been wrong: It was going to take time to process all of this. And that couldn’t begin until she fully understood just what she’d stepped into.
It had been a month since she’d first gotten the phone call from the mysterious attorney in Florida, telling her an uncle she’d never even met had died of a heart attack, leaving her as the sole heir to his estate—including a dusty old bookstore at the fringe of the historic district.
Sure, Nora had heard of Uncle Walter before, whisperings, really. Any mention of him was in hushed tones and always a bit cryptic. In thirty-five years, all she’d managed to learn about the man was that he and her mother hadn’t spoken since the 1980s because he’d done something reprehensible and had been cast out of the family. Of course, given the way that side of the family rolled, his grievous sin could have been any number of things the rest of the world wouldn’t bat an eyelash at. Who knows, maybe he’d tucked the corners wrong when making the bed one morning. Of course, he could also be a hardened killer or something. She was flying blind here.
After learning that she’d inherited the bookstore and coming to understand there would be things to sort out, she’d taken a week off of her high-pressure sales job in San Francisco and retreated to a quiet little lake town to think. She could try to manage the sale of the bookstore through Raymond and stay in her fast-paced life—with all of its memories that kept her firmly anchored to a past she could not reclaim. Or she could take a chance, come to Florida to sort this out herself, and get to know her uncle—at least in some fashion.
Nora had always been a curious person. Solving the mystery of who her uncle was won out, as evidenced by the fact that she now sat in an attorney’s office in Florida wearing an outfit that was not made for this climate. In fact, she’d already decided that she’d have to rethink the majority of her wardrobe if she stayed. Her crisp 1940s-inspired suits and dresses were great for her old life. She looked sharp and they were a great conversation starter with clients. Here, she looked uncomfortably out of place. And she was melting.
Raymond dropped a large file on his desk, bringing her back to the present. “So, dear, your uncle has left you the entirety of his estate, which includes the bookstore we previously spoke of, his home on Anastasia Island, and his dog, Margo. There are various other assets, all listed out, here—”
“Wait.” Nora held up a hand. “His dog? That wouldn’t, perchance, be the crazy one I just heard about?”
“Lissa shouldn’t have said that.” Raymond’s brow knit together. “That poor dog’s just traumatized. She had only just truly adjusted to life off the track when Walter passed. She’s confused.”
“Life off the track?”
“Margo is a greyhound.” He explained. “Walter adopted her when the tracks closed. He was one of the activists who pushed so hard to shut them down.” There was a touch of admiration in Raymond’s voice.
“I don’t know anything about greyhounds.”
“Lovely, graceful creatures.” He leaned back, scratching his beard as he spoke. “Quite elegant. Can be timid at first. Walter always said they require a gentle touch.”
Nora couldn’t help thinking of the whirlwind that had shown up to walk the dog—would she be considered a gentle touch? That was hard to picture.
Nora wondered aloud, “Why didn’t Uncle Walter leave her to you?”
“He was quite adamant that she go to you,” was all the explanation she got before he asked, “You do like dogs, don’t you?”
“Love them. I haven’t owned one in a while, though. Not since—well, it’s been a few years.” Nora hadn’t planned on getting another dog. She wasn’t sure her heart was ready to let anyone in, human or canine. It appeared the universe, or perhaps Uncle Walter, had other plans.
“Let’s deal with the finer points first and then you can meet her when she gets back from her walk.”
Raymond again went over the details that he’d already explained once on the phone. They were still a few months away from being able to officially transfer her inheritance over to her, which meant she had three months to decide what she planned to do with it. In the meantime, she was going to begin sorting through the house and help with the running of the store. She suspected this informal arrangement had at least something to do with Raymond a nd Walter’s friendship. The attorney seemed to want her here, for her to know Walter.
They’d nearly gone through the contents of the folder when a commotion in the reception area signaled the return of Margo from her walk.
Raymond closed the folder, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Well, I suppose the rest of this can wait. It sounds like your charge has returned and I can tell by the look on your face you’d rather meet her than listen to me prattle on about artwork.”
“I find the artwork rather intriguing, to be honest, but I am dying to meet Miss Margo,” Nora admitted.
As soon as she saw Margo, she decided the impromptu nickname was apt. Nora wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected from the dog. Her experience with canines thus far had been limited to an exuberant pit bull that was a well-muscled tank of a dog with an infectious smile and a zeal for life.
Margo, on the other hand, was every inch a lady—a docile and incredibly polite gazelle. She was a pale fawn color with deep brown eyes that were taking in all the goings-on. Her black nose quivered as she tried to sort out the new smells. Her neck was gracefully arched as she sat, almost regally, reminding Nora of a statue she’d once seen.
“How lovely.” Nora didn’t even realize she’d said the words out loud until she heard Lissa mutter something about the feeling passing under her breath.
“Are you the new owner?” the dogwalker asked before turning her attention to the child tugging free from her grasp. “Charlotte, I need you to chill out for just a second, sweetie.”
“Yes. I’m Nora.”
“Nice to meet you.” The woman’s smile was genuine, if distracted. “I’m August. Have you ever owned a greyhound before?”
“No. I plan to spend my evening researching. Any tips?”
“Be sure to keep the leash all the way around your wrist and hang on to it. They’re sighthounds, so if something catches their attention, they’re gone.”
“Got it. Good to know.” Nora struggled to picture Miss Margo ever doing something so crass as running away.
August fished a card out of a giant green bag with sea turtles drawn on it, handing the card and the leash over to Nora. “I gotta run before Charlotte gets cranky, but here’s my card. If you run into any trouble or need any help, just give me a shout.”
“Thank you.” Nora slid the card into her pocketbook, again unable to picture the need for it.
Charlotte finally succeeded in tugging free, darting toward the door with August hot on her heels. Margo watched the pair leave with the same mix of curious amusement on her face that Nora felt. After the dust settled from their departure, Raymond was the first to speak.
“Would you like me to show you the shop or the house?”
“Thank you, but I think I’m okay. I have the addresses and the keys. I think maybe I’ll grab some dinner and spend the evening getting to know Miss Margo here and then maybe check everything else out tomorrow, if that’s all right?”
“Of course. If you need anything at all, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you. Truly.” Nora left Margo—who had yet to move—with Lissa while she and Raymond loaded her blue BMW 5-series with Margo’s things. That accomplished, she took the leash and gave them one last smile before turning to Margo. “Want to go home? Well, home-ish?”
The dog might have cocked her head slightly. Nora couldn’t be sure if she’d imagined it. Either way, there was a decided lack of response.
“Come on, girl.” She tried again, tugging gently on the leash. Nothing.
Lissa merely grinned and went back to work.
“Go on, Margo,” Raymond urged the dog. It took another five minutes of cajoling to get her on her feet and trudging toward the door. Two more minutes after that to get her into the car. That only moved as quickly as it did because Nora hoisted her in when Margo seemed uninclined to step into the seat on her own.
By the time Nora slid behind the wheel, she was embarrassed, out of breath, and more disheveled than she’d been since she was eight and her parents had forced her to try summer camp. She’d lasted a day.
“Okay. Making me earn it. I see what you’re doing here,” she told the dog, who had resumed her statue pose. Nora took a deep breath, determined to not allow her frustration to show. Gentle touch, gentle touch, gentle touch, she repeated to herself like a mantra.
It wasn’t a terribly long drive over to the hotel. Thankfully, Margo had less hesitation about getting out of the car than she had getting in. Still, Nora had her hands full with dog bowls, food, and the dog as she made her way through the hotel lobby. She’d almost made it to the stairs when the receptionist called out.
“Excuse me. Sorry. But you can’t bring that dog in here.”
Nora froze, belatedly wondering what their pet policy was. “Yes. Sorry. I just need to bring her in for one night.”
“We only allow small pets and only in certain rooms,” the young woman told her, her voice apologetic.
“Would it be the teensiest bit possible to look the other way, just this once?” It wasn’t like Nora to ask for special treatment, but she was tired and at her wall for daily challenges. “You see, my uncle passed away, and this is his dog. I didn’t know he’d left her to me until about an hour ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” The woman was clearly torn. Nora had left her with no good option. “I suppose. Just for tonight. But then she has to go.”
Nora could have melted with relief. “Yes, absolutely. Thank you so much.”
Her relief was short-lived, though. As she approached the first step, Margo once again sat down—regal, placid, and completely unmovable. The longer the standoff dragged on, the more agitated the front desk clerk got, and the more flustered Nora got. The first time another hotel guest came down the stairs, it was a couple who glared at her but said nothing. Ten minutes later, a lanky man with messy brown hair came galloping down the steps, taking two at a time as he whistled a tune Nora couldn’t quite place.
He stopped on the step above Nora, looking past her to admire Margo. “Hey, what do we have here?”
“It’s a statue of a greyhound,” Nora attempted to joke, the tension in her voice ensuring it didn’t quite land correctly.
“Is she fresh off the track? I’ve heard they struggle with stairs at first.”
Nora’s first inclination was to retort with something sassy, but she bit it back. It was clear the man was just trying to be friendly. “She retired when the Florida tracks shut down, but her owner recently passed. I think she’s just struggling to adjust.”
“Ah. Poor thing. Let me see if I can help.”
Before Nora could say yea or nay, the young man set about trying to coax Margo up the steps, first lifting one paw to place it on the step, then another, only to have her reclaim the first paw.
Nora let it go on for a couple more minutes before deciding this was not good for the mental state of Margo or herself. “Hold on, I have an idea.”
With that, she fished the business card she’d been so sure she wouldn’t need out of her wallet and dialed the number on it. It rolled to voicemail, so she hung up and texted.
“Hey, August. This is Nora. Margo’s new mom. I need help.” She had no sooner hit send when the phone rang.
“Hey, sorry. I never answer unknown numbers. It’s either spam or bill collectors. I know I owe them money; the phone call is just wasting everyone’s time and causing undue anxiety.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but Margo and I seem to be at a bit of an impasse. If I pay you for a dog walk, could you possibly come to see if she’ll listen to you?”
“For sure. Where are you? And this one’s on the house.”
Relieved, Nora gave the address and August said she could be there in under five minutes. When she hung up, she looked back to the desk clerk apologetically. “I am so sorry. We will be out of your lobby soon, I promise.”
The look she got in reply told her the clerk was too polite to say what was on her mind.
“So, now we wait, huh?” The man sat down on the steps and scratched Margo’s ears. “I’m Leo, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Leo. I’m Nora.” She also reached down to stroke Margo’s fur, realizing that in all of the hubbub, she’d yet to truly greet the poor dog. She was not off to the best of starts. “You don’t have to wait. My friend will be here soon. Well, Margo’s friend, I suppose.”
