“We bookish people do tend to know one another. Plus.” I hid my face behind a cup of coffee to hide my blushing. “My ex works there.”

  A look of amusement danced across Peter’s face. “Of course, he does.”

  “And after I get off work this afternoon, we’re going to call him.”

  * * *

  The rest of the workday flew, and before I knew it, I was biking home to meet Peter at my apartment. My legs throbbed with each push on the pedals because I’d rushed to make it home fifteen minutes before Peter was slated to arrive. I needed the extra time to change into something a little less … well … coffee-like. I’d updated my entire wardrobe, after all.

  I sighed, settling on dark skinny jeans that made my butt look extra perky and the flowing, paisley top Heike sold me on as soon as I saw her wearing it at Castle & Crown. I pushed in some gold hoop earrings, braided my long strands of bang, securing it behind my ear, and dabbed on some cherry Chapstick. I grabbed Romeo from the middle of his bed and tucked him gently under my arm, rubbing behind his ear. “You are my bestest boy,” I said in my high-pitched puppy voice, which sounded pretty much the same as the voice I use when talking to babies. Romeo kicked his leg in appreciation. “Yes, you are. Bestest boy.”

  “Come in!” I called, hearing the knocking on the door.

  Peter stood on the other side with a fresh bouquet of New English Asters bursting with colors of fall in his hands. He handed me the bouquet and bent down for a kiss. “For you,” he said suavely, stepping inside.

  “They’re lovely.” I stuck my nose inside toe bouquet to smell. “Ahh choo!” I sneezed, my city self still getting used to the country allergies. I filled a mason jar with water and placed the flowers on the center of my island. “Really lovely, Peter.”

  “As are you,” he said slyly. I blushed and shook my head hard. “We need to get to the bottom of this,” I said matter-of-factly, refusing to be distracted by the God standing in front of me.

  Peter squinted. “I have a feeling you’re enjoying this whole sleuthing thing, aren’t you?”

  I couldn’t hold back the smile. I raised my hand, pinching my thumb and pointer finger together. “Maybe just a tad bit,” I admitted. But I knew it was more than a tad. For the last fifteen years, I’d worked as an appraiser of rare materials — researching first editions and forgeries, seeking out clues to determine the true value of rare materials — mainly books. The search was the fun of the job, and since I lost said job, this would have to do for now. And more than anything, I wanted to get to the bottom of this for my mom.

  “Are you ready?” I set my phone in the center of the island.

  I gestured toward the phone. “Be my guest.”

  I dialed the Folger’s number, and a receptionist picked up on the first ring.

  “Hello, can you please connect me to Finn Locklear?”

  The woman grew silent on the other and all I heard were lips packing together as she chewed gum. The loud smacking came to an end and she spoke. “I thought he had left his desk, but he’s back. I’ll connect you.”

  We listened to an elevator music rendition of “Cry Me a River” until a man’s voice cut it off. “Phineas Locklear,” the voice said.

  I giggled, remembering how much Finn hated using his full name.

  “Hello?”

  I cleared my throat. “Hi, Finn!” I exclaimed, a bit too excitedly. “It’s Talbot.”

  “Talbot Meadows? “It’s so good to hear from you.” He sounded genuinely excited to hear my voice.

  “And I’m Peter Ellerton,” Peter chimed in, making his presence known.

  “Uh …” Finn stuttered. “Hello, Peter Ellerton,” he said warily. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Peter answered.

  “Okay … Finn, let me cut to the chase, as I’m sure you’re wondering why your ex-girlfriend is calling you out of the blue with her …” I paused, unsure how to address Peter and settled on the boring. “Friend, here too.”

  Peter held back a laugh at my gaff.

  Finn used the awkward silence to chime in. “I was actually just thinking about you the other day, Talbot.”

  “Oh?” I responded.

  Peter’s jaw clenched. “And why’s that?” he asked. I shot him a don’t-get-your-panties-in-a-bunch kind of look.

  Finn cleared his throat. “Well, we had a call come in two weeks ago from Willow Creek, Pennsylvania, actually.”

  Peter and I sat in silence on the other end.

  “That is where you’re from, right?” Finn promoted.

  “Yeah …um, yes. It is where I am now, actually.”

  Finn sighed on the line. “Yeah … I’m sorry to hear about the Library of Congress. Not sure if you’ve still been in touch, but the entire department’s been laid off and it’s now moving up the food chain. Even that jerk boss of yours lost his job on Tuesday.”

  As much as that stunk, I was happy to hear Bradley was out on the streets searching for a new job too. That’s terrible, I scolded myself.

  “Yes,” I finally spoke. “It’s been a rough two weeks.” Understatement of the year.

  “So what can I help you with?” he asked.

  “I’m thinking now that the call you received the other week is the phone call I’m reaching out to you about.”

  “Oh, I see!” Finn said. “You said your last name was Ellerton?” he addressed Peter now.

  Peter spoke. “It is.”

  “The man who called …” Finn paused, and I could hear him rustling papers on the other end. “Yes, here’s the order. Harold Ellerton was his name.”

  “My grandfather,” Peter explained.

  “Yes, well he was referred to us from Chicago and wanted his Folio authenticated.”

  “And did you send someone out to appraise it?” I asked.

  Finn’s voice hushed. “We sure did,” he said. “But here’s the thing, they never made it there.”

  Peter and I looked at one another. “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, we sent an appraiser out the very next day.”

  “The day after you received the call from Harold?” Peter asked for clarity.

  “Yep, the 14th. But there’s a note here that the appraiser called us and decided that they weren’t cut out for the job.” He laughed. “Didn’t like the traveling.”

  Strange. “Did they say anything else?”

  Finn sighed. “Nope. And we’ve been a bit short staffed ever since, so we haven’t had the chance to send anyone else out.” Finn laughed. “On that note, Talbot, if you need a new job, just give me a call.”

  I bit the side of my lip. “Maybe,” I laughed, brushing it off.

  I could hear the rustling of paper again. “Would you like me to set up a new appraisal, Mr. Ellerton?” Finn asked.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Peter responded curtly. I nudged Peter to go on and he got directly to the point. “My grandfather was murdered last Friday.”

  Finn gasped on the other end. “Oh, Mr. Ellerton. I’m so terribly sorry.”

  “Thank you. Talbot and I think the Folio had something to do with his death.”

  “Well … well … if there’s anything else you think I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  And that’s exactly what I intended to do. “Since you offered,” I began. “When you get the chance, could you send me the contact information for the appraiser you originally sent to Willow Creek?”

  “Yes,” Peter agreed. “We’d love to touch base with them.”

  “That’s no problem at all,” Finn said. “I’m a bit swamped, so do you mind if I get the information to you later tonight?”

  “That’d be great. Thanks, Phineas,” I teased.

  “Good to hear from you, Talbot,” he said with and undercurrent of pining in his voice. His tone changed. “And that job offer stands.” I could practically hear the smile through the phone. “I’d love to see you again,” he added quickly right before hanging up.

  I sighed heavily. “Well, that didn’t bring us any closer to figuring anything out.”

  Peter laughed. “Well, I’m starting to figure out that you’re quite the heartbreaker … Patrick, Kevin, Finn … any more gents?”

  I narrowed my eyes and leaned toward Peter. “What? Are you jealous of on ex who lives two hundred miles away?” I teased.

  Peter ignored my question. “You’re right though. No closer to the truth, but maybe the appraiser will point us in the right direction.”

  “Maybe.” I played with the edges of the flowers, lost in thought. “I think we need to talk to Lizzy.”

  Peter placed a gentle hand on my elbow. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. Kevin was pretty serious about you not getting involved anymore.”

  I grimaced, just thinking about Kevin Homestead. “And I’m serious about finding out the truth. About Harold’s murder. About the book. And as much as I hate to admit it — about Lizzy.” I shrugged. “Sure, she’s a vain, vapid gold-digger, but her being in jail is not right.”

  Peter nodded. “I agree with all of that.” His eyes grew serious. “But Talbot, someone hit me over the head. They killed my grandfather.” He traced a finger down my arm. “I don’t want to see any harm come to you.”

  Peter leaned in farther and kissed me gently, protectively. Then he pulled away and spoke. “Now let’s go grab some lunch, talk about anything other than the Folio for a beat, and enjoy one another’s company.”

  “I’m not terribly hungry,” I admitted. “Snuck in quite a few pastries this morning.”

  Peter raised an eyebrow, smirked mischievously, and spoke in his charming English way, “Then can you think of a better use of our time, Miss Meadows?”

  I stood on my tiptoes, wrapped two arms around his neck, and smiled mischievously right back. “I believe I can.”

  Chapter 18

  “You do make a mean cup of black tea,” I said, my head leaning against my bed’s tufted headboard, cup of afternoon brew in hand.

  Peter took a sip of his Earl Gray. The bed sagged as he sat next me while Romeo curled up in his lap. “My life in England lends itself well to making this stuff,” he said. “As a child, my mum used to call me away from whatever I was doing at exactly three o’clock every single afternoon, yelling ‘tea time Peter Alexander’.”

  I laughed. “So people really do say it like that? Tea time!” I called in my best British accent.

  He smirked. “Absolutely. Every afternoon, we’d have tea with milk and homemade biscuits.”

  “That sounds delectable,” I admitted, my stomach growling. Maybe I was a bit hungry after all.

  Peter hopped off the bed and sat his empty cup in the sink. He grabbed his v-neck sweater from the wicker bench at the foot of the bed and tossed it over his tussled head.

  I made a pouty face. “Where are you off to?”

  “Unfortunately, my work life in England hasn’t stopped, so I have some emails to send.” He looked at the clock. “And midnight London time is perfect.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He tapped a finger to his forehead. “Nobody’s checking their mail now.”

  Clever. “So you don’t have to worry about responding any time soon?”

  “Bingo!” He kissed my forehead, rubbed Romeo’s back, and moved toward the door. “Let me know what you hear from Finn.”

  “Will do!” I said, hopping out of bed and rubbing my fingers against my lips. “And I was thinking …” I trailed off.

  Peter caught my tone. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

  “We should probably,” I stopped. What I wanted to say again was, we really should talk to Lizzy, but realized that as much as Peter liked my determination, he didn’t like how involved I’d become.

  Peter moved to me. “Yes,” he prompted, putting a hand to my cheek.

  I smiled. “We should probably double date with Piper and Henry some time.”

  An expression crossed Peter’s face I couldn’t quite read. He sighed. “I’d like that.”

  “Good.” And with one more kiss, he was out the door.

  I turned to Romeo. “Okay boy. I think I really like him.” And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I knew why he made that expression a few moments ago. Peter wouldn’t be in Willow Creek much longer. He had a life … work … back in England. And gosh forbid to think … maybe even a woman waiting for him.

  I shook away the thought. “I’m going out!” I announced to Romeo. I’d had enough of the indoors today, not that I was complaining about the last few hours of kissing Peter, and decided that some fresh air and a nice long walk would do my body good. I’d check out the fall décor of the shops in town, and who knows? Maybe I’d stroll past the police department and happen to say hello to my Mom, and if I happened to see Lizzy in her holding cell and happened to have a little chat with her, then so be it, right? I mean, there was nothing left to lose.

  The crisp end-of-October air greeted me with a brisk hello as I opened my door and walked into town center. With the fast-pace of the past week, I hadn’t had the opportunity to really take in the village. Hand-painted wreaths of yellows, oranges, and reds were displayed in the front window of Color Me Crafty. Inside the studio, a dozen or so children sat on benches at long craft tables, piecing together paper mache jack-o-lanterns and black witches hats made from coned construction paper glued to paper plates.

  Across the street, Alice Schwab closed up Alice’s Gifts Galore for the night. “Beautiful night for a walk, Talbot,” she called.

  “Certainly is, Mrs. Schwab.” I glanced up at the bright yellow moon, passed the closed Cafe Prose and Stick of Butter Bakery, and continued through the square. The street lanterns glowed a brilliant orange, giving just enough light to see the few paces in front of me.

  I turned the corner on West Elm and passed the formidable courthouse, where inside was Mayor Samuel Moore’s office, and then stopped in front of the red-brick library, noticing the Halloween books showcased in its window — Click, Clack Boo, Curious George Boofest, The Witch of Blackbird Pond, and The Runaway Pumpkin. I couldn’t help but wonder if one day I’d be reading them to children of my own.

  Finally, I came upon the gray stone facade of the police department. I looked at the bike rack in the alleyway to its right, immediately noticing my mother’s car was gone. “Must be home for the night,” I muttered aloud. I had hoped she could serve as a distraction to whichever guard was on duty so I could sneak in to see Lizzy. Considering how upset Kevin was the last time we spoke, if he knew I’d stopped in, gosh, he’d probably arrest me for obstructing an investigation or some other nonsense.

  Think, Talbot, Think. I channeled my inner Jessica Fletcher and creeped down the alley. Two barred windows sat recessed in stone. An empty wooden crate from the drugstore next door lay on its side, so I pulled it over and stood on top, attempting to get a look inside the main room of cubicles. I could see the kitchenette, my mom’s desk, and … yes! That new Officer Nichols stood in front of the sink, donut and coffee in hand. I rolled my eyes at the cliché that was Willow Creek PD. I pulled the crate to the next window, and although the glass was frosted from years of filth, I could see the vague outline of a woman leaning against a wall. Lizzy.

  Why they decided to leave a suspected murderer with a rookie cop, I’ll never know. But relief flooded over me, as I’d never had the pleasure of being formally introduced to Officer Nichols before. And unless he’d somehow seen a picture of me, he had no idea who Talbot Meadows was.

  I chewed on my thumb nail. What persona did I want to portray to get to Lizzy? Her manicurist? I shook my head. They’d never allow that. Doctor? No, everyone in Willow Creek sees Randy. I thought of Peter, and how disappointed he’d be in me, and that sparked an idea. “Lawyer!”

  I stood up straight and pushed out my chest. “Act with authority,” I said to myself.

  I confidently marched through the double doors.

  “Ah huh, ah huh,” choked Officer Nichols, coughing on his donut. He rubbed two sticky hands on his uniform and moved toward me, hand out. “Officer Bryan Nichols,” he introduced himself. I tentatively shook his hand and cringed as glaze stuck to my thumb. “Atticus Brigance,” I said, using the first and last names, respectively, of two of the most well-known attorneys in literature. “Attorney at law,” I added. I swallowed hard and kept steady eye contact. By the look on Officer Nichols’ face, he bought it so far.

  “And how can I help you, counselor?”

  I cleared my throat. “I’m Miss Peartree’s new representation, and I’m here to … um … counsel her.”

  Good one, Talbot.

  Officer Nichols scratched at the back of his head. “Well, visiting hours ended at seven, a bit over an hour ago.”

  I stepped forward and placed a flirtatious hand on Officer Nichols’s forearm. “Now, Bryan, was it?”

  He swallowed with a head nod.

  “I drove in from Hershey and got caught up in that terrible traffic over the Willow Creek Bridge.” I looked down at my attire and suddenly realized most attorneys don’t visit clients in jeans and sneakers. “Not to mention the flat tire I got on Interstate 81. Thank goodness I had a change of clothes in the car.” I added a playful giggle for effect. Aunt Tilly would be so proud.

  Officer Nichols scrunched his face as I placed a hand on his barrel chest.

  “Well, Ma’am.” He leaned in and quieted his voice. “I’m really not supposed to allow visitors —.”

  “But these are extenuating circumstances, I’m sure, and it will only take ten minutes of her time,” I assured him, batting my eyelashes.

  Officer Nichols glanced down the long hallway, in the direction of the holding cell. “Ten minutes?”

  I put my hands up. “Ten minutes, max.” I promised.

  He gestured me to follow. “Have a seat in here,” he said, pointing to the interrogation room that I was all too familiar with. “I’ll bring her in.”

  I took a seat in the hard, metal chair and waited. Officer Nichols ushered Lizzy Peartree into the room.

  She looked to the floor as she entered the room and then peered at me through strands of auburn hair that had escaped her ponytail. “What are you —?”

 

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