[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
fourteen. The girl is about the same age. You can t miss
them. The boy has blue hair.
I m sorry, ma am, Helen said. You shouldn t have to
put up with that.
The mom shrugged. She seemed immune to teenage folly.
Anyone who believed bookstores celebrated the life of
the mind didn t know about the bathrooms. Weird things
happened there. People got naked. People got crazy. People
had sex and drugs in the stalls. They pried open shoplifted
CDs and buried the packaging in the rest-room trash. Public
bathrooms were the bane of a bookseller s existence.
Helen spotted the kid when he came out into the store a
few minutes later. He was all nose and bones, with hair the
color of blueberry Jell-O. His plump girlfriend was dressed
in black with dead-white skin and bug-blood nails. The pair
left. That problem took care of itself, Helen thought.
But it didn t. Half an hour later, Blue Hair and the girl in
black were back, heading for the bathroom.
152 Elaine Viets
Oh, sir, Helen said loudly. The boy stopped.
This time you might want to use the men s room, she
said.
Blue Hair s face turned bright red. His girlfriend giggled.
He made a U-turn and walked out the front door, the snick-
ering girl following. Helen didn t think he d be back soon.
Twenty minutes later, another woman was up at the
cashier s desk. She had gray hair in a short sensible cut and
wore a comfortable blue cotton dress. She looked smart,
practical, and in charge. A nurse possibly, or a teacher. She
said, There s a man in the women s rest room. He s in the
handicapped stall.
Skinny kid with blue hair? Helen said.
Preppy in a pink shirt. I got a good look at him through
the space in the door. He s about twenty-five, sandy hair,
wearing khakis, boat shoes, and no socks. I didn t see a
knife, gun, or other weapon, and he wasn t talking to him-
self.
The woman knew her Florida crazies. Thank you for
handling this so well, Helen said. The woman gave a short
nod, like a superior officer acknowledging a sergeant, and
marched out.
Helen paged Brad, and it was several minutes before the
little bookseller came up front, loaded with books. He
steadied the towering stack of slush with his chin.
Brad, watch the register, please, Helen said. There s a
problem in the women s bathroom. Some preppy in a pink
shirt is hiding in a stall.
At least he s dressed, Brad said. Last week, I got the
naked guy drying himself in front of the men s-room hand
dryer, holding his own wienie roast.
The bookstore bathrooms were at the top of a long corri-
dor. At the other end were the steps up to Page s office.
That section was roped off and had a PRIVATE NO ADMIT-
TANCE sign, but it was easy to step over the flimsy barri-
MURDER BETWEEN THE COVERS 153
cade. Helen saw the pink-shirted preppy in the hall, on the
wrong side of the green velvet rope. He was coming from
the direction of Page Turner s office.
Excuse me, sir, Helen said.
Do you want something? he said, as if Helen were the
one trespassing. He had blond hair and a built-in sneer.
A woman reported that a man answering your descrip-
tion was lurking in a stall in the rest room, Helen said.
The old biddy needed glasses, he said. I m here in the
hall. And I m not lurking. I m lost.
You re in a restricted area.
I made a wrong turn, the preppy sneered.
Maybe you d better show me some identification.
I don t have to do anything of the kind.
No, you don t. You have another choice. I can call two
strong booksellers and they can hold you here until the po-
lice arrive. Then we ll charge you with trespassing.
The preppy reluctantly pulled out his wallet. Instead of a
driver s license, he produced a picture ID that said he was
Harper Grisham IV, legislative assistant to State Senator
Colgate Hoffman III. Were all those Roman numerals sup-
posed to intimidate her? And why was that name familiar?
You re a little far from Tallahassee, Helen said. So
why don t you go back where you belong?
Gladly, he said. Helen wanted to wipe that sneer off
his face. Instead, she stood in the doorway and watched
Harper the preppy stroll through the store. He walked at a
stately pace, as befitted a future political mover and shaker.
Finally, the preppy prowler was gone.
An hour later, Gayle was at Helen s register. She was not
her usual cool self. Her blond hair stuck out at weird an-
gles. Her black turtleneck was dotted with packing lint. She
was definitely upset.
Page s office has been broken into, she said. I ve
called the police.
154 Elaine Viets
Did they get anything?
I can t tell. I noticed the break-in when I took the last
cash pickup to the safe. The office lock was jimmied. I ve
never seen such a mess. The place is ransacked. Astrid has
been through so much, and now she ll have to deal with
this.
Why? I know she s the owner, but you know what s
there better than she does.
Gayle ran her fingers through her hair, and sent her
bangs up in more spikes. I thought the police made a
mess, but that was nothing. Papers are tossed all over the
floor. The file drawers are open. The couch is slashed.
Things are broken and overturned. The locked video cabi-
net door was bashed in, too. I guess someone didn t know
the police took all the videos. Either that, or the thief
wanted it to look that way. There s a lot of damage.
I caught a guy in the back hall about an hour ago,
Helen said. I have his name. He s a legislative assistant to
State Senator Colgate Hoffman III. As soon as she said the
name out loud, she knew why it was familiar. The thought
rocked her.
Why would a senator s assistant break into Page s of-
fice?
Helen knew, but she couldn t say why. Peggy had starred
in the missing video with the senator s late son.
The women s rest room was right next to the rope barri-
cade. Someone must have come along when the preppy
prowler was trying to break into the office and he ducked in
there. It was the closest hiding place.
The store was soon overrun with police. Helen expected
the evidence technician and burglary detectives. But she [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
fourteen. The girl is about the same age. You can t miss
them. The boy has blue hair.
I m sorry, ma am, Helen said. You shouldn t have to
put up with that.
The mom shrugged. She seemed immune to teenage folly.
Anyone who believed bookstores celebrated the life of
the mind didn t know about the bathrooms. Weird things
happened there. People got naked. People got crazy. People
had sex and drugs in the stalls. They pried open shoplifted
CDs and buried the packaging in the rest-room trash. Public
bathrooms were the bane of a bookseller s existence.
Helen spotted the kid when he came out into the store a
few minutes later. He was all nose and bones, with hair the
color of blueberry Jell-O. His plump girlfriend was dressed
in black with dead-white skin and bug-blood nails. The pair
left. That problem took care of itself, Helen thought.
But it didn t. Half an hour later, Blue Hair and the girl in
black were back, heading for the bathroom.
152 Elaine Viets
Oh, sir, Helen said loudly. The boy stopped.
This time you might want to use the men s room, she
said.
Blue Hair s face turned bright red. His girlfriend giggled.
He made a U-turn and walked out the front door, the snick-
ering girl following. Helen didn t think he d be back soon.
Twenty minutes later, another woman was up at the
cashier s desk. She had gray hair in a short sensible cut and
wore a comfortable blue cotton dress. She looked smart,
practical, and in charge. A nurse possibly, or a teacher. She
said, There s a man in the women s rest room. He s in the
handicapped stall.
Skinny kid with blue hair? Helen said.
Preppy in a pink shirt. I got a good look at him through
the space in the door. He s about twenty-five, sandy hair,
wearing khakis, boat shoes, and no socks. I didn t see a
knife, gun, or other weapon, and he wasn t talking to him-
self.
The woman knew her Florida crazies. Thank you for
handling this so well, Helen said. The woman gave a short
nod, like a superior officer acknowledging a sergeant, and
marched out.
Helen paged Brad, and it was several minutes before the
little bookseller came up front, loaded with books. He
steadied the towering stack of slush with his chin.
Brad, watch the register, please, Helen said. There s a
problem in the women s bathroom. Some preppy in a pink
shirt is hiding in a stall.
At least he s dressed, Brad said. Last week, I got the
naked guy drying himself in front of the men s-room hand
dryer, holding his own wienie roast.
The bookstore bathrooms were at the top of a long corri-
dor. At the other end were the steps up to Page s office.
That section was roped off and had a PRIVATE NO ADMIT-
TANCE sign, but it was easy to step over the flimsy barri-
MURDER BETWEEN THE COVERS 153
cade. Helen saw the pink-shirted preppy in the hall, on the
wrong side of the green velvet rope. He was coming from
the direction of Page Turner s office.
Excuse me, sir, Helen said.
Do you want something? he said, as if Helen were the
one trespassing. He had blond hair and a built-in sneer.
A woman reported that a man answering your descrip-
tion was lurking in a stall in the rest room, Helen said.
The old biddy needed glasses, he said. I m here in the
hall. And I m not lurking. I m lost.
You re in a restricted area.
I made a wrong turn, the preppy sneered.
Maybe you d better show me some identification.
I don t have to do anything of the kind.
No, you don t. You have another choice. I can call two
strong booksellers and they can hold you here until the po-
lice arrive. Then we ll charge you with trespassing.
The preppy reluctantly pulled out his wallet. Instead of a
driver s license, he produced a picture ID that said he was
Harper Grisham IV, legislative assistant to State Senator
Colgate Hoffman III. Were all those Roman numerals sup-
posed to intimidate her? And why was that name familiar?
You re a little far from Tallahassee, Helen said. So
why don t you go back where you belong?
Gladly, he said. Helen wanted to wipe that sneer off
his face. Instead, she stood in the doorway and watched
Harper the preppy stroll through the store. He walked at a
stately pace, as befitted a future political mover and shaker.
Finally, the preppy prowler was gone.
An hour later, Gayle was at Helen s register. She was not
her usual cool self. Her blond hair stuck out at weird an-
gles. Her black turtleneck was dotted with packing lint. She
was definitely upset.
Page s office has been broken into, she said. I ve
called the police.
154 Elaine Viets
Did they get anything?
I can t tell. I noticed the break-in when I took the last
cash pickup to the safe. The office lock was jimmied. I ve
never seen such a mess. The place is ransacked. Astrid has
been through so much, and now she ll have to deal with
this.
Why? I know she s the owner, but you know what s
there better than she does.
Gayle ran her fingers through her hair, and sent her
bangs up in more spikes. I thought the police made a
mess, but that was nothing. Papers are tossed all over the
floor. The file drawers are open. The couch is slashed.
Things are broken and overturned. The locked video cabi-
net door was bashed in, too. I guess someone didn t know
the police took all the videos. Either that, or the thief
wanted it to look that way. There s a lot of damage.
I caught a guy in the back hall about an hour ago,
Helen said. I have his name. He s a legislative assistant to
State Senator Colgate Hoffman III. As soon as she said the
name out loud, she knew why it was familiar. The thought
rocked her.
Why would a senator s assistant break into Page s of-
fice?
Helen knew, but she couldn t say why. Peggy had starred
in the missing video with the senator s late son.
The women s rest room was right next to the rope barri-
cade. Someone must have come along when the preppy
prowler was trying to break into the office and he ducked in
there. It was the closest hiding place.
The store was soon overrun with police. Helen expected
the evidence technician and burglary detectives. But she [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]