Murder in the Paperback Parlor Read Free

slowed as the car approached the massive wrought-iron gates bearing the Steward crest—an owl clutching a scroll in its talons. The family motto, which could also be found on the guest room key fobs, had been inscribed in an arch-shaped banner over the owl’s head.
    Aunt Octavia pointed at the crest. “Let me hear our motto, boys.”
    â€œDe Nobis Fabula Narratur,”
the twins replied, doing their best to pronounce the Latin words correctly.
“Their Story Is Our Story.”
    Aunt Octavia smiled. “Excellent. When we get to the village, you may see what I have in my change purse. If you can count the coins correctly, they’re yours. I hear that the Pickled Pig market has a marvelous display of Valentine’s Day candy.”
    Jane glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a gleam appear in her sons’ eyes.
    â€œSpeaking of Valentine’s Day, are the preparations for Romancing the Reader complete?” Aunt Octavia asked.
    â€œFor the most part,” Jane said. “Our guest of honor, Rosamund York, is being a bit of a nuisance.”
    Aunt Octavia didn’t seem surprised. “She’s a diva. Wants fresh roses in her suite each day. Will only drink a specific brand of spring water. Prefers not to mingle with her fans outside of her scheduled events. Her publicist sees to her every whim and handles all of Ms. York’s communication. Am I getting warm?”
    Approaching a sharp curve known as Broken Arm Bend, Jane reduced her speed. “You’re spot on. How did you know?”
    â€œMrs. Pratt is a diehard Rosamund York fan. I had the misfortune of running into her at the bookshop. When I foolishly mentioned Romancing the Reader, she turned positively giddy. I’ve never seen a fiftysomething woman bounce in such a manner.” She frowned. “It was rather disturbing.”
    Jane smiled. “Mrs. Eugenia Pratt is a devout fan of the entire romance genre. She reads three to four books a week, but I hadn’t realized that she knew intimate details about her favorite authors as well.”
    â€œI’m sure she’d like to get
intimate
with the male cover models,” Aunt Octavia said with a snort.
    â€œWhat does ‘intimate’ mean?” Fitz asked.
    â€œBeing close to,” Jane said as they entered the village. She pulled the car into the only vacant parking spot in front of the Pickled Pig and pivoted in her seat to address her sons. “Mr. Hogg is expecting you. Remember, he’s providing you with lunch and will then introduce you to his new pet. You’ll have a chance to enter the name-the-pet contest and afterward, you can fill a small bag with candy from the bulk bins.” She held out a warning finger. “I expect you both to be on your best behavior. If I hear any unfavorable reports, I will hold your candy hostage until further notice.”
    The boys responded with the briefest of nods before Hem turned to Aunt Octavia. “Can we count your coins now?”
    Aunt Octavia passed them her coin purse. “Just bring it into the market with you, my dears. I don’t want to be any later for lunch than we already are.”
    Delighted, the boys jumped out of the car and ran into the market, nearly barreling into an older gentleman with a walker. Jane said a silent prayer that they wouldn’t get into too much mischief and relocated the car to a spot in between Run for Cover, Eloise Alcott’s bookstore, and Daily Bread, Edwin Alcott’s new café.
    Eloise must have been watching for them out the restaurant’s window, because she whipped open the front door before Jane could reach for the handle. Jane’s best friend was a lovely woman in her early thirties with chin-length dark hair that framed her heart-shaped face. Her gray eyes were kind and intelligent and she smiled often. She was devoted to Storyton Village, her customers, and the Cover Girls book club. One would expect her devotion to