The Lush Life (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 8) by Peggy A. Edelheit

haystack,” said Betty.
    “Sure is one for the books,” quipped Martha, frowning.
    For once their usual clichés were very apropos.

 
     
    Chapter 22
     
    Librarian & Libation
     
    I took a break from playing librarian and uncorked some wine, inviting the others to join me. We kicked up our feet to discuss the case and hash out how to handle this. I kept my voice low. Scarlett was just a door and stairwell away. This was serious business.
    “Still no word from Clay,” I said, “but I received a call earlier from Alicia. She stated, although many of her books were collectible, she couldn’t think of one in particular that might be worth taking a shot over. She asked that we keep this quiet and don’t call in the police yet unless something worse happens. It could have been just a hunter’s wild shot gone astray out in the woods and nothing more. After all, it’s fall and this is a rural area. She said it does happen.”
    Betty set down her wineglass. “Like we’d believe that.”
    “She claimed there was nothing unusual about her book collection and maybe I was over-reading this whole thing. Maybe it was a misdirected text and stray bullet. She also mentioned that one of her neighbors in the woods at the back of her property is a retired sharpshooter for the secret service and each hunting season thins out the deer herd on all the area properties and then donates all the deer meat to a food bank kitchen. But he uses a bow, not a gun.”
    “Maybe he ran out of arrows,” cracked Martha.
    “So, Alicia claims it was some overenthusiastic nut, hunting deer and that was a stray bullet whizzing by you,” said Betty, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.
    “You don’t sound convinced that it might have been an accident either,” said Hazel.
    “Since when do hunters use silencers?” I countered sarcastically.
    “Point well-taken,” said Martha.
    “Then Alicia sent me this text after we hung up. Look.”
    When you reed the manuscript,
    Make sure you have the right one, the other is lethal.
    I trust you’ll get it write and no the difference in thyme.
    “I wasn’t sure why she misspelled it until I reassessed our conversation. Alicia’s voice had an edge, a forced calm, dismissing my concerns, even after I brought up those two bogus emails. She spoke cryptically. I’m now convinced she purposely misspelled it, sensing the phones might be compromised and our computers, but in due time I’d figure her text out. Trouble is, I can’t decipher it.”
    “Do you think you can find this book?” Hazel asked.
    “What about getting the police involved?” Betty added.
    “It had to be a warning shot. If they wanted to shoot me they could’ve accomplished that easily out front when I was walking in the wide-open field. After giving it some thought, I think this was to get my attention. Trust me, they did. Plus for some reason Alicia kept stressing not to call the police, but if it goes further than that warning shot, I...”
    Just then, Mona and Teddy barged in.
    “What’s so important?” she asked breathlessly. She saw open cabinets, several books scattered about. “Tell me...”
    I gave her a warning look and a slight shake of the head.
    The ever-astute Mona quickly turned to Teddy.
    “Lunch was a total disaster. I’ve heard enough moaning! Go up and take your pain pills before looking in any more mirrors, and then lie down for an hour,” she instructed.
    Because of all the bruising and swelling on Teddy face, I think it was too much effort to argue, so he nodded and made his exit, but not before we heard a muffled, “ Bithhh !”
    “Well,” said Betty, smoothing her skirt. Such manners!”
    “A true gentleman,” scoffed Hazel, “wouldn’t speak that way to a room full of ladies.”
    “Who said we were all ladies,” said Martha chuckling.
    Offering a glass of wine to Mona, I invited her to sit down. Then I painstakingly recapped what had transpired, including the texts I’d received while she was