A Binding Chance (Messy Bookshop Mysteries Book 1)

Book summary

When Garnet Stone’s beloved bookstore becomes the scene of a murder, she must unravel the mystery to save it from closure. As suspicions fall on the new owner, Jane, Garnet uses her investigative instincts to track down the real killer before it’s too late. A BINDING CHANCE is a cozy mystery filled with suspense and bookish charm.

Book excerpt from A Binding Chance (Messy Bookshop Mysteries Book 1)

Jane Jackson, my new boss, stood before me. The moment she walked through Teresa’s Bookstore, I knew Jane would be trouble. She wore a gray suit that was too hot for a Tennessee summer with a white shirt, snuggled tight against her neckline. Jane’s brown hair wrapped into a tight bun, which made me wonder if it gave her headaches. Those high stilettos were a better match for women who sat in office chairs all day and attended swanky lunches, rather than spending a day opening heavy boxes or restocking bookshelves. My new boss looked as if she stepped out of Vogue magazine.

“Fired?” I asked.

“Fired is a strong word. But yes, Garnet,” Jane said, nonchalantly. “After today, my aunt’s bookstore will be permanently closed.” Her bland brown eyes studied the sales floor. I knew Jane noticed the tower of books that needed a home on the shelf rather than being pushed against the wall to be dealt with later. The longer she absorbed the store’s clutter, the worse her grimace became.

I wanted to say something. Anything to change her mind but, the shock of the store closing took my voice.

Finally, she turned her attention to me. “As I said in my email, I’ll pay you for the work you’ve done.” Jane paused, reading my face. “It’s just a used bookshop. Nothing personal.”

“Nothing personal?” I snapped. “The bookstore means everything to me. I’ve worked here for nine years and ran the store on my own for an entire month.”

Jane gave me a blank stare. It felt like she was the school’s principal listening to a trivial complaint from a student. While Jane believed closing the bookstore was strictly business, my heart shattered. Teresa’s Bookstore was my life and passion.

My career.

Princess, a black and white cat who lives here, jumped onto the counter next to the boxy computer the store used as the register. Jane stepped back as if the tuxedo feline was a ferocious panther. Princess sat up straight, waiting to be acknowledged.

Jane gasped. “I didn’t know Aunt Teresa kept animals inside her store.”

I stroked Princess from her head to her back. She turned to me, purring. I admired the dotted black line along Princess’s neckline, which entitled her to a name-bearing royalty.

How dare Jane call Princess a mere animal. Your Grace would have been more fitting.

“Your aunt loved cats.” I debated if I should warn her about the other cat, Butterscotch, but quickly dismissed the thought. Jane would find out soon enough.

Jane sneered at Princess and turned her attention to her surroundings. “This place is a mess. You should have cleaned it before I arrived.”

Stacks of books for online orders filled one side of the L-shaped counter while others were being held for customers. Plastic bags remained inside a cardboard box rather than being hung on a hook near the register. Bookmarks rested in a large coffee mug free to anyone who wanted one. Thankfully, Jane couldn’t see the mess in the cubbies under the counter. With one foot, I pushed the Windex and paper towels deeper inside the space. They didn’t move far.

From the large bay window, the morning light peaked between the four rows of bookshelves. The smallest of the four at shoulder height held notebooks donated and were free to anyone. Most of the papers had been torn out, but locals knew Teresa was not one who threw things away because some, or half, of the pages were missing. They were perfect treasures for children who loved to doodle. The other three bookshelves were filled with fiction books from various authors that had been published in the last five years or maintained popularity. If I had the time and an extra set of hands, I would have reorganized novels by genre.

Boxes filled with extra copies that were already on the shelves, towered at the end of each row. I wanted to put them upstairs, but never got around to it since there were bigger things that needed done before Jane’s arrival. The room to my right housed romance and horror books. Occasionally customers put an unwanted book in the wrong place, an ongoing battle that I refused to surrender. While in general fiction, the books were often crammed in sections. The novels needed to be spaced out better and alphabetized. Once I recycle the half-filled notebooks, I would have the space.

I cringed when Jane looked up. The globe string lights cast a magical glow even though some of the bulbs had burnt out. Time got away from me, and I hadn't had a chance to replace them, or better yet, asked someone who was over five-two to help me.

One employee could only do so much.

Jane failed to see what I had accomplished. Other than run the business, I donated children’s books to churches and libraries, I operated a weekend-long sidewalk sale, which was a huge success, and I once stayed after hours, moving the ladder around the store with a Swiffer duster. Mentally, I patted myself on my back for all my hard work.

I probably needed to warn Jane about upstairs. If she thought the bookstore was in dire need of TLC, just wait until she saw the office. Teresa was known for many things, but tidiness wasn’t one of them.

As I watched Jane brush cat hair away, I wished she had seen the place before I cleaned. If she had, then she would’ve appreciated the countless hours I had spent trying to get the bookshop in order. After stocking, re-organizing books, ringing up customers, answering the phone, office work, and tending to two cats, some days I didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

“What are these spots on the carpet?” Jane glared at the green floor. She stepped away from the spot as if the stains were creeping up her legs to swallow her whole.

I meant to toss a rug over the stains but forgot to drag it out of my trunk this morning. “Coffee.”

“Teresa served coffee here?” Jane’s voice went up an octave as her eyes landed on Princess.

Princess purred louder. I gave her a good head rub.

“Only once.” I recalled the memory. A curious cat didn’t mesh well with hot beverages. Teresa set up a coffee station on a cold January morning, telling me. “This is going to be great. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.” Unfortunately, when the first customer poured himself a cup, Princess jumped up and scared him half to death. Twelve cups of hot liquid dumped onto the floor. No matter how many times we shampooed the carpet, the stain refused to leave. Some days Teresa joked about changing Princess’ name to Nosy-Rosy.

Jane collected herself by placing one hand near her neckline while the other wrapped around her waist. “This place is a pigpen. How did Aunt Teresa let it get so bad?” Her question sounded rhetorical. As Teresa's only niece, Jane must have witnessed her aunt’s disorganized behavior.

“The pig is upstairs,” I said, sarcastically. Jane’s eyebrows shot up.

I kept petting Princess, enjoying her expression. It was the least I could do since all of my hard work resulted in being fired.

“There’s an actual pig here?”

I debated for a moment before telling Jane no. By the look on her face, Jane didn’t appreciate my humor.

Before anything else was said, the cowbells tied to the door handle clanged. Princess jumped from the counter to greet our first customer. I put on my best smile, hoping Jane would notice my work ethic and that Teresa’s Bookstore was busy enough to stay open. At this moment, I knew I had to convince Jane to keep the store.

No better way than with a customer.

Jane called out, “Today is an extra thirty percent off.”

My happy face fell at the sight of Sasha Whitlock. Instead of her usual bed hair, Sasha’s blond locks were wavy. She wore a video game shirt that I knew she often slept in. At least her jeans didn’t have any holes or rips, and her tennis shoes were spotless.

“Are you Teresa’s niece? Jane Jackson?” Sasha asked after patting Princess’s head. Jane nodded and started to answer when Sasha cut her off. “Actually, I’m here to get my job back. There was a misunderstanding and I want to redeem myself.” Sasha flashed a smile.

“Job back?” Jane glanced at me before looking back at a beaming Sasha.

Silly Sasha, I thought. That cheesy smile never worked on Teresa. Or me.

“The store is closing permanently,” Jane said as a matter of fact.

Sasha's face fell “Oh. Why?”

“Actually,” I said before Jane had the chance to speak, “we haven’t confirmed that the store is closing. Jane hasn’t met—” I cursed myself for not thinking things through and said the first name that came to mind. “Peggy Sue. Jane hasn’t met her yet.”

“The mutt that kids read to on Saturdays?” Sasha sounded confused.

Perhaps I should have chosen a regular customer who spends money rather than Willie who brings his dog so children can practice their reading skills.

“Everyone loves Peggy Sue.” I turned to Jane, hoping the event impressed her.

Instead, my boss, or new owner, appeared as lost as Sasha, and not in an inspiring kind of way. She gathered herself. “I inherited the store after my aunt’s passing. I put a lot of thought into it and decided to close its doors.”

I needed to try harder, but I would wait until Sasha left. This was between Jane and me.

“That’s a shame.” Sasha shrugged. “Oh, well. It was worth a shot.”

I shook my head behind her back. Did she really expect to get her job with no effort? Typical lazy-Sasha.

Jane and I watched as Sasha headed for the front door. A short, dark-haired woman walked in front of the bay window. Inwardly I cringed. Why did Doris Hackett have to come today? She had been here two days ago and bought three paperbacks. Had she read them already?

I trotted around the counter to whisper Jane a warning, but I was too late. She entered at the same time Sasha put her hand on the swinging door. The cowbells rang with instant tension. Doris narrowed her eyes as Sasha’s body stiffened. Doris spoke first. “Here to beg for your job back?” she teased, half smiling.

“That’s none of your business, along with everyone else in Sevier Oak.” Sasha’s temper took me by surprise. She had been snippy behind people’s backs, but never to their face.

“Teresa fired you for a reason. Loafer. You played video games all day and was late for work too many times.”

“Studies show that people who play video games are smarter than those who don’t.” Sasha’s eyes shifted up and down.

Doris chuckled, but it sounded forced. “Did Google tell you that or a witch?”

“A Witcher,” Sasha smarted back.

I wanted to bang my head against a bookshelf.

Doris looked puzzled. “A what?”

While Sasha described a character from a fantasy video game, Jane stepped forward. I shook my head, hoping she understood to not interfere. I’d learned it's best to let women, like Sasha and Doris, say what’s on their minds. Once they have enough, they’ll go about their day. Unfortunately, Jane didn’t notice my hint.

“I believe Sasha is referring to the TV show with Henry Cavill,” Jane said. “But, ladies—”

“The video game came out before it was a show,” Sasha countered.

I rolled my eyes. As the real bookworm among this group, I decided to speak on behalf of the books. “Actually, it’s a fantasy book series written by Andrzej Sapkowski.”

The three of them faced me. Sasha sighed, annoyed. Doris snarled as if she smelled something bad while Jane gave me a hand signal to stop talking.

“Fun fact,” I continued, “our cat here is really named Princess Ciri, after a character from the book.” That was a lie. Princess was just plain Princess, but Teresa wasn’t here to argue.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Sasha asked.

I suppressed another eye roll. Other than showing off my book knowledge and defending the Polish author, I suppose it meant nothing.

Jane repeated today’s special, “The books are an extra thirty percent off.”

Unlike Sasha, Doris looked like she might start crying. The day kept getting curiouser and curiouser.

“Looks like you're gonna have to spend your shiny pennies at the other bookstore in town.” Sasha giggled.

I glared at my former co-worker. The last thing I wanted to hear about was our bookstore’s rival.

Doris shared my passion. “Then you go there, loafer. Maybe Voss recycles trash.”

“You’re one to call, lazy.” Sasha gave Doris a look that I couldn’t understand. Something must have happened between them when Sasha was still working here. “One day somebody is going to hack you up with a jack of spades, and on that day, I’m going to laugh at it.”

An expression crossed Doris’s face. One that I had never seen in the years she shopped here. Fear. Jane looked as if she wanted to say something.

Time for me to step in.

“If you have something to say to each other, do it elsewhere. Not here.” I used the authoritative tone that my family taught me.

Sasha parted her lips to say something, but then thought better of it and closed it. Doris went submissive.

Some days I loved my last name being Stone. “Well, make a choice.”

Sasha shoved Doris aside, causing the forty-year-old woman to stumble back into the door. Doris opened her mouth. I expected a snarky comment from her, but nothing came out. She just watched as Sasha walked down the sidewalk.