Buried in a Book by Lucy Arlington Read Free Book Online Page B

and old coffee grounds mingled with even more repugnant odors, but I was determined to find that query letter.
    Unfortunately, the top of the Dumpster was locked, leaving only the sliding doors open, through which all the trash had been shoved. As this opening was at eye level, I was able to view the most recent deposits. Though I saw several black garbage bags and a few flattened pieces of cardboard, there was no sign of the cluster of white flowers.
    Looking around for something to stand on, I spied a plastic crate near the back door of Espresso Yourself. Balancingon top of the crate was a challenge. The pointy heels of my shoes keep slipping into the holes of the crate, and I had no choice but to grab onto the edge of the Dumpster’s open door in order to maintain my footing.
    This angle, however, allowed me to see into the darkened corners, and I was certain I saw a glimmer of white petals in the far left. There was no way I could reach it, so I eased myself off the crate, now in search of an object with which I could slide the bouquet back toward the front, but where was I going to find a rake or a broom in this tiny unloading area?
    I knew I couldn’t spend much more time down here. My first day on the job and I’d already left my desk unmanned without a word of warning. The truth was, I didn’t know whom I could trust. A man had just died at Novel Idea by suspicious means, and I had to have answers.
    Raising my chin in determination, I strode over to the back door of the coffee shop and pulled it open. I was a bit surprised to find the door unlocked. In Dunston, it would have been securely bolted, but I suppose the merchants of Inspiration didn’t have to worry about break-ins. This realization gave me a warm feeling even though I felt like a trespasser as I entered a narrow hallway where the restroom and a tiny closet were located. In the closet, propped inside a yellow bucket, was a mop.
    Eureka! For someone who never enjoyed having to use this particular domestic tool, I was quite pleased to see one now.
    I admit to being rude and cowardly, but I didn’t ask Makayla if I could borrow the mop. She’d find out about Marlette’s passing soon enough, having undoubtedly noticed the paramedics taking his body away, and I’m sure she wasaware of the police presence, but I didn’t want to get caught up explaining what had happened. However, if I discovered any pertinent information about the unfortunate writer’s death, I felt certain I could entrust my findings to Makayla.
    Back at the trash bin, I flailed about with the mop handle, forcing the ragged flowers to inch toward me. When they abruptly stopped moving, I noticed that the string holding them together had gotten snagged on the ripped corner of a sign illustrating the refreshing purity of a glass of cold cranberry pomegranate tea. No matter how I batted at the bouquet with the mop, the flowers remained stubbornly attached to the torn sign.
    “You won’t get the better of me!” I shouted, my voice echoing against the metal walls. “I am
not
leaving without that query letter.”
    Kicking off my pumps, I wriggled my upper body into the opening and stretched my arms out as far as they would go. The flowers were a mere finger length away. I scooted my hips forward, grabbed onto the stems, and tipped forward.
    “Oh no!” was all I had time to exclaim before my entire body came crashing down onto a bag containing foul-smelling milk cartons and banana peels. My weight caused the bag to burst open, and I found myself up to my elbows in a pile of spoiled food.
    Muttering curses I’d never allow Trey to speak, I grabbed hold of the flowers and waded through garbage bags until I reached the sliding doors. Suddenly, the daylight was blocked and a face appeared in the opening.
    I heard a high-pitched shriek, and then a woman exclaimed, “Lord have mercy! I thought you were the world’s biggest rat! I admit we don’t know each other all too well, but I never