Page 2

TWO

After checking for a pulse and not finding one, I pulled my phone from my sweater pocket and dialed 999. It rang a few times, and then Kieran, our local detective inspector, answered.

“What did you do this time?” he joked, but I didn’t think he’d be happy with the answer. While we had a bumpy start when Lizzie and I first arrived in Ireland months ago, he and I had been spending more time together. I called it research, but I’d become quite fond of the detective. And I think he felt the same about me, as he’d found my assistance with various cases helpful.

“We’ve found a body,” I said.

Silence.

“You aren’t playing games, are you?”

I cleared my throat. “Unfortunately, no. It’s author James Brandt. It seems the bookshelf fell over on him. I checked for a pulse but didn’t find one. There is a lot of blood around his head. My guess is that is how he died.”

He sighed. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wait outside and do not touch anything. I mean it. Do not try to investigate.” There was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

I sighed. He was just being protective of me and my sister, as well as his crime scene. “I know the drill.”

“What did he say?” Lizzie asked from the doorway. She was pale and shivered even though the house was extremely warm.

“He said we should wait in the car for him. You go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

She frowned. “You aren’t going snooping, are you? It’s obvious how he died.”

I shrugged. “I’m just going to have a look around.”

“Mercy, no. I don’t want Kieran tossing you in the slammer for being nosy.”

I waved a hand at her. “Go on and sit in the car. I promise I won’t be long. Besides, we’re friends now. He’s not going to throw me in jail.”

Determined to keep my promise to her, I quickly glanced around the room. Two cups and saucers and a pot of long-chilled tea were on the table. Either he was messy, or he had a guest at some point for tea just before he died. On the table were two manuscripts. One had his name on it, but the other had no author or title.

I wanted to pick it up and look through it, but I couldn’t risk adding my fingerprints.

I need to keep some gloves in my pocket . I pulled a tissue from my coat pocket but decided not to use it. I didn’t want to risk rubbing off any potential prints.

The kitchen was tidy, and the kettle was cold. Whenever he’d died, it must have been a while ago.

The bedroom was tidy. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the house except for the dead man on the floor and the overturned bookcase.

It had probably been an accident. He’d been reaching for a book or something when the old bookcase tumbled over on him.

But there was a weird blue tinge around his mouth. That could have meant he was poisoned, and a test would be needed to make certain.

After going through the small cottage again, I joined Lizzie in the car.

“What were you looking for?” she asked.

“Any signs of foul play,” I said honestly. We didn’t keep secrets from one another.

“Isn’t it obvious how he died? That bookcase looked old and heavy.”

I nodded. “It was. But it just seems odd and too on point.”

“What?” She asked. “Death by books?”

“Exactly. At some point in the last twenty-four hours, he had a guest. There were two cups on the table, but the kettle was cold. There were also two manuscripts on the table as if he’d been going through them or, perhaps, showing them to someone.”

“Well, Mercy, he was a writer. I know you’re behind on the next book, but there are these things called manuscripts that writers are supposed to create.”

“Ha. Very funny. Did Carrie text you again?” Carrie was my editor. While neither of them would ever admit it, she kept tabs on me through my sister. I pretended to be offended, but I thought it was kind of sweet. They were just looking out for me and had done since I’d moved to New York nearly fifteen years ago fresh out of college.

She shrugged.

“For the record, I’m not behind. She just wanted to see the first half of the book early. But after she shared an unfinished book with the marketing team the last time, I’m not sending her anything until I’m completely done.”

Okay, the truth was I only had the first third. My excuse was I’d been busy helping my sister with the festival. I would finish on time, just as soon as all of this was over.

“If you say so,” Lizzie said as if she didn’t believe me.

A few minutes later, Detective Inspector Kieran O’Malley, and Sheila, his second in command, pulled into the drive of the cottage.

He wore a cable knit sweater and jeans. While I’d never say it out loud, he was quite handsome in a rugged sort of way.

I rolled down the window. “Stay in the car,” he said. “I’ll want to talk to you.”

“He doesn’t look happy with us,” Mercy said.

“You’re right about that, but it isn’t our fault we found a dead body.” And since I’d grown to know the detective inspector better, I understood how seriously he took the phrase serve and protect. He’d be worried about us finding a body in a place that very seldom saw any kind of crime.

Lizzie shivered. “I really need to get back to the bookstore. Poor Caro must be going crazy with all those people in line that are waiting for a dead man.”

“Why don’t you call her?” I suggested.

“And say what, that we found our guest of honor under a bookcase? I have a feeling Kieran wouldn’t like that much.”

I scrunched up my face. “You make a good point. But you need to let her know that he isn’t coming. People were lined up outside waiting for him. Maybe say he’s indisposed.”

“I’ll text her and tell her he won’t be able to make it. That way, I don’t have to answer the twenty questions that are bound to come if I call. I wonder if he died quickly,” she said. She shuddered again. “Imagine if he didn’t and then slowly being crushed by all those books. It’s horrible.”

It was. “He wasn’t the nicest guy, but you’re right. That would have been an awful way to die.”

If that was really how he died. The bookcase was old, but he’d been a man in his early fifties who appeared healthy. He should have been able to at least slide out from underneath it if he’d been his usual unpleasant self.

That light blue around his lips made me wonder if there had been some sort of foul play. As in maybe someone poisoned him first, and then, in a stupor, he’d pulled the bookcase down on himself.

At least, that’s how my writer’s brain would have composed the scene.

There was just one problem. James’s death wasn’t fiction. This wasn’t the first time I’d found a dead body, but experience didn’t make it any easier.

Kieran came back out. I pushed the button to roll down the window again.

“What were you doing here?” he asked. He held his notebook in his hand.

“We’d come to pick him up for his book signing at our shop,” Lizzie offered.

“When he didn’t answer, we tried the door. That’s when we found him,” I finished.

“Did you see or pass anyone on your way up the hill?”

“No,” I said. “Why do you ask? It looks like he accidentally pulled the bookcase on top of himself.”

“Right, but he had a guest. I was hoping you might identify who that was.” He must have noticed the cups as well.

“We didn’t see anyone as we came up to the cliffs,” Lizzie said. “Do you know how long he’s been lying like that?”

“That will be for the coroner to say,” he said. “The forensic team is on the way.”

“Forensics? So, you think something is not right about the scene?”

His eyebrows lifted. “I never said that. Sheila says he was a famous author but not as popular as you. I’m covering the bases, so my superiors know we’ve done our due diligence.”

Had he paid me an offhand compliment about being popular? I hid my smile behind a fake cough. “That makes sense,” I said. “What did you make of the two manuscripts on the table?”

“What do you mean? He was an author,” he said.

“Right. Except one had his name on it, and the other didn’t. Maybe he was looking over someone else’s work to help them. Though…”

“What?” He gave me a glance that said, spit it out .

“He wasn’t the nicest guy,” I said honestly. “Like rude might be his middle name. I can’t see him helping anyone but himself. I know how that sounds but he had quite the ego.”

It wasn’t kind to speak ill of the dead, but Kieran needed to know the truth. Lizzie and I had only spent a short time in James’s presence and wanted to kill him. There was no telling how many others he’d offended with his behavior.

“And?”

“The paper of the manuscript appeared older than the other one. Like it had been stuck in a box for years. And I can’t see him helping another author with their novel. He didn’t seem the type to offer anyone assistance.”

“You sound like you were not a fan,” he said. Then he gave me that suspicious look. Not that he thought I’d hurt him, but that I knew more than I was telling.

“Don’t go there,” Lizzie said. “We were just sent to find him. We didn’t kill him.”

“He doesn’t think that,” I said. “Do you?”

“No. I don’t think you killed him. I only want to make sure I have all the facts.”

“You should talk to his agent if you think there is any reason to be suspicious. She was the one who sent us. If you ask me, she should have been the one to come pick him up, but she made an excuse and forced us to do it.”

“What is her name?”

“Sebrena Walker,” Lizzie said. “She wasn’t very nice either.”

“And where can I find her?”

“We left her at the bookshop. She was setting up for James’s signing this afternoon.”

“Can we leave now?” I asked. “Lizzie needs to get back to the store. With the literary festival going on, it is hectic.”

“Do you think we should cancel the rest of the festival?” Lizzie asked. “I mean, our guest of honor is dead. It seems wrong to carry on. I should call the committee members. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I can’t help you with that. I can only say the investigation will be ongoing,” he said. “I’ll follow you to town. I need to speak with his agent and locate his next of kin. As for the future of the festival, you’ll need to check with my grandmother. Though, I don’t see any reason why you should end it. It is my understanding that you have several authors in attendance.”

His walkie-talkie squawked. “Hold here for a moment. Let me speak to Sheila. I’ll be right back.”

We waited a few minutes.

“Follow me down the cliffs,” he said when he came back out. Then he jumped into his cruiser, and we dutifully pulled in behind him. We had to park a few blocks away from the bookstore, as the street in front was now packed.

I turned to Lizzie. “Are you okay? This kind of stuff hits you harder than it does me. I can cover at the store if you need to be alone.” She was still pale, and I worried she might be in shock.

While she’d become stronger over the last few months since we arrived in Ireland, she’d been through a lot the last year, including the deaths of our mother, Lizzie’s fiancé, and his daughter. We’d left all that behind in the hopes that she could rebuild her life and get away from all of that grief. Not that it ever truly went away. At odd moments I’d find her staring out into the garden with sadness coating her person. It broke my heart.

Only in the last few weeks, while working on the festival, did she seem more like the positive, hopeful sister she’d always been.

“No. I’d rather be busy. Besides, don’t you want to be there when Kieran interviews the agent? What if it wasn’t an accident and she killed her client? From the outside, it appears they were two peas in a pod, but who knows?”

I smiled. She’d never admit it, but her curiosity had been piqued. In that way, we were the same.

I’d been wondering the same thing. Not that there was any reason to think murder. But it all felt very odd, and my gut said something was hinky about the situation. After the last time we’d solved a murder mystery, I’d learned to trust my gut.

“Okay, but just say the word if you need to go home and take a break.”

“Noted.”

Kieran waited at the door to the bookstore for us.

“Do you know when the signing will begin?” a woman dressed in all black asked. “We’ve been waiting quite a long time.”

“The signing has been canceled,” Kieran said. “We’re going to have to ask you to please leave the area.”

The crowd grumbled a fair amount. I didn’t blame them. It was chilly, even for Shamrock Cove. They had been stuck outside for more than an hour.

“Several other panels and events are taking place,” Lizzie added cheerfully. “Please check your schedules.”

With that, Kieran ushered us inside.

“There you are,” Caro said. Then she frowned. “Is he not with you?”

“Didn’t you see my text?” Lizzie asked her.

She shook her head. “I’ve been busy on the checkout with customers. Why?”

There were several curious onlookers.

Lizzie went over to her and whispered something. Caro’s eyes went wide.

“Where’s his agent?” Kieran asked.

I pointed to the back of the store, where the signing table was set up. She had stacked books and arranged them in several neat piles.

I felt sorry for her. The poor woman had no idea what was coming.

Unless she’d murdered her author.