Well Read, Then Dead(88)

            Maggie said she and Holly usually shared the books they read for book club but by sharing they’d never both be able to finish The Three Musketeers before the next meeting, so she bought two copies. I gave her a whopping discount and hurried all the clubbies out of the café. By the time I locked the door, Bridgy and Ophie were straightening the chairs in the book nook. Bridgy asked what our next step was going to be and popped the last of the mini tarts in her mouth right as I was going to grab it.

            I poured a half glass of iced decaf and sat at Dashiell Hammett, thinking about how to approach Ellis Selkirk. My brain was in gear but it was a sluggish gear. I was dithering with any number of alternatives.

            As I sipped slowly, the primary choice became more obvious. I had to walk up to his house, knock on his door and speak to him directly.

            Once I said it aloud, I knew it was what I needed to do.

            Bridgy and Ophie disagreed.

            Bridgy used her schoolyard voice to remind me that Bucket Hat threatened not only me but all my friends.

            Ophie was calmer and politely suggested that we get “one of those handsome young men” from the sheriff’s office to go in my place.

            “No. I have to take care of this myself.”

            Bridgy screeched for a minute or two and used words like “crazy” and “irresponsible.” I sat patiently until she ended her tirade with, “If you insist on going to his house, I suppose I should go with you. Let’s get this place cleaned up and do the deed.”

            Ophie threw up her hands. Bridgy and I scrubbed and straightened in peaceful silence. Ophie hummed tunelessly as she jangled cutlery and moved condiments from here to there without actually cleaning a thing. Still, we were done quicker than I thought we’d be.

            We locked up the café, and I was relieved that Ophie didn’t offer to come along. I was apprehensive enough without having to listen to her remind me that I’d get more flies with honey or some other well-mannered ladies riff on how to deal with a potential murderer who, I was sure, was capable of carrying out the threats he made to me.

            Bridgy suggested that we call Cady to meet us, and since I was driving, I handed her my phone.

            “Speed-dial eight.”

            She was leaving a long, convoluted message. I told her there was no need, he’d call back in a few minutes, but by the time I parked the Heap-a-Jeep in front of Ellis Selkirk’s house, we hadn’t heard from Cady.

            There were two cars in the driveway, so I was sure we’d find someone at home. I hoped it would be Bucket Hat himself.

            “Ready?”

            Bridgy nodded.

            I knocked on the front door more forcefully than necessary, but I wanted to sound strong—at least to myself.

            Without his hat and sunglasses, Ellis Selkirk looked like any retiree wintering at the beach. But his eyes turned to hard steel when he recognized me.

            “You have some nerve coming to my house. Haven’t you caused me enough trouble?” He gave Bridgy the once-over. “Who’s she? Tell me why I shouldn’t throw both of you right off my porch.”

            Next to me, Bridgy shrank back just enough to force me to have courage for the both of us.

            “Mr. Selkirk, there’s no need to bully us. You came into the café and asked me about our friends, who they were and where you could find them. One of those women was murdered a few hours later. Makes me wonder if you found her.”

            “You’re not only nosy, you’re stupid.” And he started to close the door.