Literary larceny a shelf.., p.1
Literary Larceny (A Shelf Indulgence Cozy Mystery Book 6), page 1
LITERARY LARCENY
A SHELF INDULGENCE COZY MYSTERY
S.E. BABIN
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No part of this publication may be sold, copied, distributed, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or digital, including photocopying and recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of both the publisher, Oliver Heber Books and the author, S.E. Babin, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Literary Larceny Copyright 2024 © S.E. Babin
Cover art by Lou Harper from Cover Affairs
Published by Oliver-Heber Books
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CONTENTS
Want to Keep up with Sheryl?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Also by S.E. Babin
About the Author
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ONE
Having a book in my hand turned even the worst day around. I lounged on my couch with Poppy curled up beside me, reading the latest murder mystery from one of my favorite up-and-coming authors. Her writing had incredible voice—humor, snark, spine-tingling crime. It was everything I ever wanted in a thriller.
Idly, I stroked Poppy's silky orange fur, her satisfied purr making me chuckle. She rarely cuddled up to me like this. We had a good relationship, but Poppy wasn't the most affectionate of cats. For the longest time, I thought she barely tolerated me. After all, I purchased the bookstore with her in it. I'd hold a grudge over that, too.
But Poppy had come a long way, and over the time we'd spent together, I realized she had a sharp intellect for a domesticated animal, and an odd knack for sniffing out murderers. Not that I wanted my pet to have a gift like that, but since murder had come knocking on my door too many times for comfort, I had to appreciate it.
This snuggling, though?
This was brand new.
I suspect it had come because Poppy sensed I was nursing a broken heart. Some people might say animals don't possess the capacity for empathy. I thought that was a bunch of hogwash. Poppy had stayed plastered to my side the moment my heart had broken and hadn't left it since. We'd taken a new step in our sometimes-odd relationship, and I was more grateful than ever for her.
Hardy and I were broken up and had been ever since his ex-fiancée had wandered back into his life with a blue-eyed, dark-haired little girl. I had no doubt she belonged to him, and I would never stand in the way of him forming a relationship with her or the child's mother, Hardy's apparent ex-fiancée. The thought sent grief spearing through my heart.
Every time I thought I was over the sharp sting of this, it hit me right in the face when I least expected it.
Only time would make it better.
Distance, too. I couldn't control time, but I could control where I went and at what time. Hardy was somewhat predictable. His work hours stayed the same, and he liked to eat lunch at the same few places every day. I'd done my best to avoid those places, and so far, I had yet to catch a glimpse of him.
But it wasn't all bad. Instead of paying off my mortgage, I purchased the adjoining building where Sprinkle Heaven used to be. The construction crew had been there for two weeks now, expanding part of the bookstore, and building out a new venture I was still nervous about.
The idea of a private investigation firm was a seed I'd nurtured for a while now, but since I was with Hardy at the time, I shelved it. He would hate it, and I had loved him more than I wanted to be a PI. Even now, with the new place all planned out, down to the specific type of rug on the grey, ceramic floor, I had reservations.
I loved books and had no intention of giving up my store, but like Poppy, I seemed to have a knack with solving murders and the occasional other type of crime. Tattered Pages, my store, was running smooth as butter, so I could afford to step away to start up a new venture. Harper, my assistant, was invaluable to both me and my store. I paid her generously for her efforts, and she was ecstatic to take over more of the day-to-day operations of the store.
Daniel Jensen, a good friend and chess cheater, had encouraged this venture and suggested I call the place Turning the Page. I hated that I liked it. He'd be smug about it for months. Sighing, I slid a bookmark between pages and put the book down on the coffee table. Poppy shifted next to me, her purr a soft rumble against my side.
The sun was close to setting, stripes of purple and red streaking through the evening sky. I was back in my house now. After the break-in, I'd stayed with Hardy for a while. Until…everything. I'd moved out right away but chose to stay in a local bed-and-breakfast until I could get someone over to change out the doors for something sturdier. I also changed out all the windows from regular to security glass. None of the changes were 100 percent foolproof, but someone would need to be very determined to get inside.
I had no issues once I solved the last case, and the new security measures made me feel safer.
Things were different, but different wasn't bad.
Change could be good. It encouraged growth, and I had to admit, after everything, I felt a lot better about the future than I did before. Not that everything was rosy right now, but I had a clean slate.
The world was my oyster.
I just had to get my hands dirty and shuck it.
I woke up bright and early the next morning. Tattered Pages was closed on weekends now, and I had a list made up of things I needed to take care of. Poppy opened one bright eye when I turned on the lamp, blinked, then buried her head underneath her blanket.
I laughed and slid out of bed, hoping I remembered to program the coffee pot.
As soon as I stepped into the hall, the scent of fresh coffee swirled through the air. Relieved I'd remembered to program it, I padded straight to the kitchen, snagged the mug next to the machine and poured myself a cup.
The sun wasn't up, and everything was quiet. Birds weren't yet chirping outside, traffic was at a bare minimum, and the only sound was the soft rumble of the coffee pot. I could sit here and ponder things in silence, just me and my thoughts.
Normally when I got up, Poppy followed me to the kitchen, but she chose to stay in the bedroom this morning, so I shrugged on a cardigan and carried my coffee outside. A few weeks ago, I'd put new comfy chairs outside on the porch. I curled up in one of them and settled in to watch the sun come up.
The temperatures had cooled significantly over the last few weeks, the morning air a bracing bite that had me tugging my sweater closer. Steam curled over the mug, teasing my nose. I inhaled and smiled, feeling relaxed for the first time in a while.
I lived in a beautiful area, especially during the summertime. Winter got a little wild, but I'd rather have mild summers and deal with worse winters than brutal summers like those poor people in the South dealt with. But it was times like these, when the fresh air ruffled my hair and the scent of pine teased my nose, that all felt right with the world.
Even when the world was falling down around my ears.
I looked at my To-Do list and tried not to get overwhelmed.
A colleague of mine from Copper Canyon, a neighboring town, sent me an email a few days ago asking for my help with something. She wouldn’t tell me what it was but insisted I come as soon as possible.
Georgia wasn’t the kind of person who made demands or exaggerated about things, so I didn’t take offense to her request. I emailed her back and told her I’d be over on Saturday—today.
We’d met a few weeks back when we did a neighboring county book sale. Silverwood Hollow, Candlelight Springs, Copper Canyon, and Martindale booksellers had gathered in our town square and put on a massive sale, bringing tourists in from all over the state. I had plenty of books I needed to let go of. From the aggressive dog-eared books handled by customers who never planned to buy anything in the first place, to returns, and shipping damage, Tattered Pages led the pack with the offerings.
Harriet Tulle from Binders had brought over almost as many, but Georgia only brought a few boxes and seemed completely blindsid
Over the last few weeks, we’d exchanged almost daily emails, but this one had an urgent note from her I’d never heard before. She was first on my list today. Then I had to check on construction for the bookstore expansion and hit the grocery store before I got home. My fridge was in a sorry state, and Daniel would be over later to beat me at chess.
A smile tilted my lips. Daniel was a good guy, even if he was an unapologetic cheater when it came to games. I couldn’t figure out how he was doing it, though, so I couldn’t stop him. Instead, I brushed up on strategies and gave him a run for his money despite his cheating. I also rarely left the table now, even if my bladder was screaming.
Consequently, I won more games than ever now, much to his consternation.
He knew about Hardy and hadn’t said much, perhaps sensing I needed stability rather than judgment—for Hardy or for me. He’d done that, giving me a solid shoulder to lean on without forcing me to talk about things. Daniel listened when I tried to talk about it, occasionally throwing out nuggets of advice, but he never once brought things up when I hadn’t.
There weren’t many men who could listen without trying to fix things, and it made me value our friendship more than ever. Plus, Daniel was a great guinea pig when it came to trying out all the new recipes I had saved in my bookmarks. Tonight’s offering was a twist on Bolognese. That particular sauce took forever to make, so I thought about cutting the steps down and using tomato paste, a little sauce with fresh basil for flavoring, and pasta water to add as a thickener, with only a finishing touch of cream at the end. All he did was shrug and say, “You had me at free dinner, Dakota.”
I finished my coffee and went back inside, carefully locking the front door behind me. I took no chances these days.
There was still no sign of Poppy, so I filled her food and water bowl before heading to the back to get ready for the day. She’d come out when she was ready and not a moment before.
TWO
Copper Canyon was a scenic twenty-minute drive, and this early in the morning, it ended up being a pleasant distraction from my worries. A stainless-steel travel mug sat in the cup holder filled with hot coffee, and the radio played a soothing mix of southern folk. Humming along to the music, I turned onto the small side street where Georgia’s shop was.
Page Turner’s was the only bookstore in the small town. I hadn’t been there yet, though I’d planned on stopping by soon. It was a standalone place, a two-story brick building with a small parking lot and numerous potted plants decorating the front of the shop. Georgia (or me for that matter), didn’t have the same knack with the window display that Harriet did, but it was still adorably book themed.
It was fall, the leaves on the trees turning a stunning orange and red, lending the town a harvest-like feel. Cinnamon and coffee scented the air when I slipped out of my vehicle, and I inhaled deeply before smiling. Fall was my favorite time of the year. Everything was a little better with hot cocoa and baked goods.
A cute wooden sign with the shop’s name written in script hung above the door. A little pink and white book decorated the end. I stopped at the door, gawking at the lovely artwork before making a mental note to look into something similar. Tattered Pages had the shop name on the window. It looked good where it was, but hanging something above would make my shop easier to identify and add a decorative touch to the shop.
The door pushed open with a squeak, the sound of a tinkling bell announcing my arrival. A pretty woman at the register smiled and waved. “Dakota! Thanks so much for coming.” She gestured for me to come inside.
“Hi, Georgia!” I stopped at the entrance and gaped. This place didn’t look massive from the outside but being inside felt like stepping into a whole new world. Page Turner’s smelled like vanilla and sandalwood, and books littered every single bit of available space. A few dozen shelves loomed high above, and just when I thought about asking how people reached the top of the shelves, I noticed ladders attached to each.
“You have ladders,” I said faintly.
Georgia grinned. “Very Beauty and the Beast, I know, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to carry as many books as possible, but I didn’t have the space for all the extra shelves I needed.”
It was a great idea, but… “What about liability?” I asked.
She pointed to each of the corners. “Cameras everywhere, and customers aren’t actually allowed to use the ladders.” Georgie pointed to a sign on one of the shelves. Ladders are for employees only. If I saw a ladder on a bookshelf, I’m not sure someone could stop me from riding the thing like Belle did in the library.
“How many times do you catch people?” I asked.
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Too many times. The cameras stop most of them, but every once in a while, they get that gleam in their eye.” Georgia’s brows lifted. “Kind of like you have now.”
“I’m not sure how much longer I can resist,” I admitted.
Georgia snorted. “You are not a customer. Have a cup of coffee with me first, then you can ride the ladders.”
“Deal!” I’d had enough coffee for a football team this morning, but one more wouldn’t hurt.
Georgia led me deeper into the store, past the romance and history sections, toward a small sitting area tucked away from the main store. The smell of coffee was stronger here. A large espresso machine sat on a table, a stack of paper travel cups with lids beside it.
“This is fancy for a bookstore,” I said, “but I’m not complaining.”
Georgia fussed with the machine, tamping the coffee into a circle and adding extra water. “I’m a nut for coffee. There’s nothing like drinking a fresh cup of well-made java early in the morning, is there?”
“Only if you get to sit on a nice porch with it,” I admitted, taking a seat on a surprisingly comfortable chair.
She handed me the first cup, made hers, then joined me in a chair opposite. Both of us fell silent as we enjoyed the first few sips.
Georgia was right. This was an amazing cup of coffee. “Mmm,” I said in appreciation.
“It’s the beans,” she said. “Delicious.”
We sipped for a while, and I enjoyed the ambiance of her store and the yummy espresso. When I was halfway through, I studied her. “As much as I’m enjoying the star treatment, your email sounded urgent. Everything okay?”
Georgia sighed. “It’s the shop. Someone is stealing from me.”
I blinked. “A customer? Or an employee?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. I only have two employees, and they’ve both been with me for years. It seems like the most obvious explanation, but neither one of them would ever steal from me.” Georgia rubbed her face. “I have regulars, but I know them all. Copper Canyon isn’t a large town.”
“If it’s not a customer or an employee, who else could it be?” It didn’t make any sense. “You have cameras everywhere, you said?”
She nodded. “I’ve been over the footage numerous times. Nothing is amiss.”
“Have you called the police?” It seemed like an obvious first step, but maybe I was missing something.
Georgia grimaced. “Not yet. I wanted a second opinion from someone who knows books like I do.”
I spread my hands. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. How could I help you more than the police?”
“Whoever it is seems to be looking for something.” She shook her head. “They’re taking valuable books, but I can’t help but think they haven’t found what they’re looking for yet.”
“Which books?” Georgia’s shop didn’t focus as much on rare books as mine did, but she had a couple of locked cabinets with some goodies inside. She’d called me a few times since we met and asked a few questions about some purchases she wanted to make. Nothing extreme. A few special editions of Harry Potter and other YA books.
“I had a first edition of Tom Sawyer with the Morocco binding. Whoever it was swiped it first before they took anything else.”
