Murder Between the Covers by Elaine Viets Read Free Book Online Page B

the counter with a fragrant pizza box.
    “Pizza delivery for Clemmons,” he said.
    “We don’t have a Clemmons on the staff,” Helen said.
    “It’s not for the staff. It’s for a customer. Large pepperoni and mushroom. He called on his cell phone. Said he’d be in the living room.”
    Helen paged him. Clemmons turned out to be a muchpierced young man in a black T-shirt. Helen was used to people treating Page Turners like their home. They put their feet on the sofas, spilled coffee on the carpet, and left books everywhere. But ordering a pizza went too far.
    “Sir, we have a café where you can buy food,” she said.
    “Too expensive,” Clemmons said, taking his pizza to the living room.
    Helen tried to keep above the chaos by thinking of her beach vacation. Rich was meeting her tonight at the motel. They had three days together on the romantic ocean, their first long weekend together.
    These rosy dreams departed when Page Turner lurched in carrying a Bawls-and-vodka. He was not flushed and jolly this afternoon. He was plain drunk. He walked around the bookstore, annoying customers with his vulgar question. He even went back to Mr. Davies’ nook, held up his blue bottle, and said, “You got Bawls, buddy?” The old gentleman seemed embarrassed for Page. Helen was relieved when he finally stumbled off to his office.
    Page’s wife, Astrid, called and said, “Can I speak with the son of a bitch?”
    “Which one?” Helen said.
    “The one who owns the store.”
    Helen paged him, but he did not reply. Rather than keep the owner’s wife on hold, she went to his office. There she heard an angry woman insisting, “You are. I know you are. My mother said so.”
    “Your mother’s crazy. And so are you. Get out.”
    Helen knocked on the door.
    “What?” Page said.
    “Your wife is on the phone,” she said.
    “Just what I need. Another crazy woman,” he said.
    The door opened. The little psychic Madame Muffy stumbled out, clutching a bottle of Bawls with a bent straw. Where did she come from? Was she Page’s newest girlfriend? Muffy didn’t seem his type.
    At four-thirty, Page called the staff together for an announcement. “The Wilton Manors store will close this weekend,” he said.
    There was a shocked silence. Matt radiated “I told you so” vibes. Helen could almost see them flashing in neon over his dreads.
    Why close that store so soon after Palm Beach? This was crazy. This was something a drunk would do, Helen thought.
    “This store will receive no new books until further notice,” Page said, and hiccuped loudly. “That should make your job easier. Less to shelve. Because there will be less work, all hours will be cut. Full-time workers will be cut from forty to thirty hours a week, part-time from twenty to ten.”
    Helen had just been whacked with a sixty-seven-dollar pay cut. Maybe if she didn’t eat, she could pay her bills. If the store closed, she would not get unemployment. She was paid in cash under the table.
    She looked over and saw that Albert had gone lard white. He was clutching his chest. Helen was afraid he was having a heart attack.
    “Does that mean we’re closing?” Matt asked.
    “It means we’re not getting more books until I say so,” Page said. “That’s all it means.” He walked up the stairs to his office.
    Albert began talking to himself. “What am I going to do? I’m fifty-six years old. Who will hire me? Where will I get health insurance?”
    “I told you,” Matt said. “Never believe a rich white guy.”
    The phone rang. It was Page’s private line. The ringing stopped and the light for that line went on.
    Five minutes later Page Turner staggered out of the bookstore, holding a bottle of Bawls and whistling a happy tune. The staff watched silently until he disappeared from view. Then everyone talked at once.
    “I’m going to be out of work again,” Helen said to Matt. She was almost in tears. “I’m going to have to look for another job. I hate it. I