Read Elizabeth C. Main - Jane Serrano 02 - No Rest for the Wicked Online

Authors: Elizabeth C. Main

Tags: #Mystery: Cozy - Bookstore - Oregon

Elizabeth C. Main - Jane Serrano 02 - No Rest for the Wicked (2 page)

By the time I finished autographing menus and answering questions for the wide-eyed tourists, Alix appeared to have shaken off her earlier lethargy.

She smiled her shark’s smile at me, and I knew she was mentally calculating book sales when she spoke again.

I’ll bet Jane will even show you the scene of the crime firsthand, if you’d like.


But your lunch … ?

protested the hopeful fans.

Alix was already signaling Corey to box up her salad.

I have another appointment, and Jane’s trying to lose weight.

The latter part of the statement was news to me, but these ladies were carrying tote bags that they’d probably be happy to fill with books, so I stood up, hungry, but resigned to my fate.

With special emphasis, I
’d
said to the retreating Alix,

I’ll talk to you tomorrow night.

Alix
had waved
over her shoulder as she
’d
sauntered away, throwing me to the muu-muued wolves.
I’d given
them my best Bookstore Heroine smile.

On to Thornton’s?

I hadn’t thought about our exchange since then, but after Alix’s phone call tonight, I’d make sure we finished our interrupted conversation later. Maybe Tyler knew something.


Is Alix having any trouble at the store? She said she had a customer


With practiced ease, Tyler reached into a ceramic jar on the counter, a book-shaped gift from a potter in New Mexico.

Ah, the shortbread nooses.

He gobbled the flaky cookie in one bite and reached for another, a blissful smile on his crumb-covered lips.

My favorites,

he mumbled through a mouthful,

but we’re almost out.


What a surprise.

I slid the jar out of his reach.

Minnie’s bringing gingerbread guns tonight.


They’re bigger, but the nooses are way better.


She’d better make something you don’t like, if we hope to have any left to sell.


Oh, I like the guns all right, just not as much.

His eyes lighted with a new thought.

Knives! That’d be great. Make

em with less dough, but sell for the same as the others. Presto! More profit. I’ll bet Minnie loves the idea.


Don’t be too sure. She’s already worried that she can’t keep up with demand.

The cooking prowess of Minnie Salter, our fellow book club member and friend, was exceeded only by her eagerness to help. No scent of lemon oil and beeswax hung in the air today, so I knew she hadn’t stopped by to discharge her self-imposed task of periodically polishing the mahogany counter. She’d probably arrive for tonight’s book club meeting clutching cleaning supplies in one hand and gingerbread guns in the other. Fine with me, so long as I could keep her mind off her other passion, her desire to solve another real-life murder.

Tyler shook his head.

Hard to believe she’d run short, the way she churns

em out.


In spite of you? Well, genius, why don’t you and the rest of your marketing crew get to work on that little problem. Now, what about the Wedding Belle?


Oh, yeah. I got distracted. Hadn’t eaten in a couple of hours.

Tyler had been inching his way along the counter toward the new location of the cookie jar. His long arm snaked out. Grinning, he popped a third cookie into his mouth.

If Alix’s customer’s that lady from the other day, she’s sure not having any trouble with business. You he
ard about Wendell’s big score?


You lost me. How
does Wendell go with weddings?


Shows how much you know about marketing.

Temporarily distracted from his quest for food, Tyler
launched into his story.

Bianca’s nondescript one-eyed dog had provided the first of many problems when I attempted to establish the Murder of the Month Book Club last year. Wendell’s presence at meetings sparked immediate friction between my dog-loving daughter Bianca and the fastidious, sophisticated Alix Boudreau, owner of the Wedding Belle Bridal Shop. Only after Wendell actually proved useful in solving a murder had Bianca and Alix’s relationship improved. In fact, things changed so much that Alix offered Bianca a job and, much to my surprise, the free-spirited Bianca took it. The two seemingly incompatible personalities had harmonized beautifully. New responsibility had brought a maturity and focus to Bianca, while Bianca’s
joie de vivre
had in turn caused Alix’s business to flourish.


You don’t mean Wendell was actually allowed inside the Wedding Belle.

No matter how friendly the relationship between employer and employee, I couldn’t imagine Alix letting Bianca’s scruffy black dog into her posh lavender and lace bower
,
which featured champagne carpeting.


You know about Bianca’s campaign to let Wendell lie on a special mat just inside the door.

I nodded, knowing from personal experience that Bianca was well practiced in using
water torture
to wear down an opponent over time.


Alix
finally gave in
o
n that really hot day last week, but she insisted that it was just for that one time. Anyway, Alix was grousing around, saying Wendell’d soon be bald, the way his black fur was migrating to the white rug … typical cranky Alix … and in walks this lady who takes one look at Wendell and falls in love, saying he looks just like some dog named Bonjo
.
I s’pose old Bonjo had both his eyes, but that didn’t matter. Anyway, right there on the spot she wants to hire Wendell to be ring bearer at her wedding. Funniest thing I ever saw.
Before Alix could open her mouth, Bianca begins quoting Wendell’s rates.


Wendell has rates?


Yep. Five hundred to appear in a wedding, and six-fifty if he stays for the reception.


You’re kidding.

My dreamy daughter, who once scorned material things, apparently had learned to negotiate the capitalist system rather well.


That lady didn’t bat an eye. ‘Perfect, as long as it includes pictures after the ceremony.’ There was sort of a pause and I figured the joke had gone far enough. Then Alix said, smooth as silk, ‘I’m afraid that’s extra.’ And then Wendell got up from his assigned mat and walked straight across Alix’s
pristine
carpet to the lady and sat at her feet adoringly. It was like they
’d
rehearsed it.


Dog biscuit in her pocket?

Wendell was no slouch at finding food.


You got it. The lady was hooked. ‘Let’s do it,’ she said. ‘You’re sure he’s available on that date?’ Alix and Bianca looked at each other—I was just trying not to crack up—and Alix handed something to Bianca. Could’ve been a book of poetry, for all I know, but she rummaged around for a few pages before she looked up. ‘You’re in luck. He has no other appointments that day.’


I can’t believe anyone would—


The lady left a big deposit.


No complaints from Alix about Wendell’s black fur on that white rug after that?


Nope. Alix was way too busy reassessing Wendell as a rising star. He’s taking Bianca with him to the top, too. Alix even suggested that Bianca and Wendell work up some less traditional ideas for a new brochure. You know, wedding with people wearing cowboy boots, standing on a rock in the Deschutes with trees overhead, that kind of sappy thing.


And using Wendell as best man? Things have certainly changed since I got married.


Since the Dark Ages, you mean?
Big surprise.


Thanks a lot. It was only … well, a few years ago.

Twenty-five, to be exact, since I’d given up college for marriage and three children. Put another way

a quarter of a century

it really did sound like the Dark Ages.

You think business at the Wedding Belle’s all right
,
then.


Better than Thornton’s. Alix’s one tough lady with the bottom line. If you and Grandpa’d get onboard with our marketing plan, we’d do a lot better here, too. How much did t
hose two women drop yesterday?


Plenty, but—


But what? You wouldn’t have gotten a dime if Alix hadn’t roped you into doing the tour. You should do them on a regular basis.


Why don’t you do them? I didn’t even get lunch yesterday! Where’s the sympathy?


Sales first.


Sales don’t come before your lunch, I notice.


I’m a growing boy.


I know. That’s why we’re running low on cookies again.

I slid the cookie jar further away.

If you’re done emptying that box of books, how about giving it to me so I can dump all this mail.


Will do.

Tyler fetched the box and returned to the counter.

You’ll answer the letters, won’t you?


So long as you keep up the blog.


I’m on it. No problem, ’specially now that I’m getting English credit. How cool is that?

He hesitated before saying,

Speaking of marketing, the online club is—


What online club?

Recognizing that suspiciously casual tone, I folded my arms and waited.


Oh, didn’t Bianca tell you?

He shoveled mail into the box, head down.

“Tell me what? Whose idea …
?

With a look of relief, Tyler turned toward the sound of running feet outside.

She can tell you herself.

Energy personified, my daughter flew into the store, all tanned arms and legs and flying corn silk hair. As usual, she was flanked by Wendell, running circles around her in hopes of scoring a dog treat. I couldn’t help smiling at the sight. My twenty-year-old daughter had always charmed the socks off everyone, including me. The youngest of my three children, she skipped through life trailing creative ideas and fervent cau
ses in her
floral
-scented wake.


I was just telling your mom about the new online book club.


Doesn’t it sound great?

Without pausing to close the door, Bianca fed the ecstatic Wendell two treats
.

Price
break
for members.
F
ree
shipping, too. You’ll write the reading group questions, of course, and host the monthly web chats.
Minnie
’s offered to
send new subscribers a dozen cookies as a thank-you gift. This could be h
uge.


Uh huh. What I really want is a combination publishing and baking empire
at Thornton’s
.
Isn’t there already
enough going on?

Tyler gestured toward the paperback mysteries stacked on the chair behind the counter.

But
I was hoping to
pick
the
first
books
tonight
.

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