If Books Could Kill: A Bibliophile Mystery
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Murder is easy-on paper.
Book restoration expert Brooklyn Wainwright is attending the world- renowned Book Fair when her ex Kyle shows up with a bombshell. He has an original copy of a scandalous text that could change history-and humiliate the beloved British monarchy.
When Kyle turns up dead, the police are convinced Brooklyn's the culprit. But with an entire convention of suspects, Brooklyn's conducting her own investigation to find out if the motive for murder was a 200-year-old secret-or something much more personal.
He shifted closer so we were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, then gazed into my eyes. “I am.” I shut off the shower and just as sternly shut off the memories. Grabbing a towel from the wonderfully warm towel rack, I dried off. I pulled a can of Pepsi from the minibar and popped it open, hoping the caffeine would help perk up my system. I blew my hair dry, put on some makeup and dressed for the chilly evening outdoors in warm tights, jeans, boots and my short down jacket. I left my room and
women walked in and glanced around. They both wore badges attached to their jacket lapels, so I assumed they were librarians. “I swear I heard something crash in here,” the taller one said. She wore her hair pulled back in a severe bun and she scowled as she surveyed the area. “Maybe it was upstairs,” said the other woman, a short, older woman with curly gray hair. “They’ve painters working in the offices.” At that moment, she noticed me. “Oh, hello.” “Hello.” I clutched a nearby drawer pull
of the city, during which I’d learned firsthand that Scotsmen were fiercely proud and knowledgeable of their history and heritage—and their bridge. The tour guide had positively gushed as he explained that the Forth Bridge was one of the world’s first major steel bridges. Its unique cantilever design was considered a miracle of modern technology back in the 1890s. But what in hell did that have to do with me and these men and this cab? What was I doing here? I furtively checked my watch. I’d
talked to Helen Chin’s husband, Martin?” “Martin?” He skimmed back over his notes. “Martin Warrington? I’ve got his name listed, but I didn’t talk to him.” He called Terrence over and asked him to track down whoever interviewed Martin. It turned out Martin had a number of people who’d vouched for his whereabouts the night Kyle died. “Helen Chin was with you on the ghost tour,” Angus said. “Yes,” I said. “But there’s no way she could’ve dragged Perry under the table. And she was in our car on
said, and tossed her hair in a defensive gesture. “It’s just that I always thought Martin was wealthy.” She snorted a laugh. “There’s a good one, eh, Martin?” “But he owns a bookstore.” She winked. “He’s a clerk. But the owners trust him, let him take care of the business. He wormed his way into their hearts, didn’t you, darling?” She smiled widely. “No, he’s not the toffer, but he knew how to look the part well enough to snag himself a rich bride. And our Helen’s just the girl. Lets him take