Read Online A Novel Death: a Danger Cove Bookshop Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 10) by Elizabeth Ashby, Ellie Ashe - Free Book Online

his eyes widened before he composed himself. "Yes. I'm a reporter."
    "Who do you work for?"
    "Mostly freelance."
    "Are you writing about Cal Montague?"
    He nodded, appearing more confident in his answers now. "Yes, I am."
    "What's your name?"
    "I'm, uh, Seth Giles," he said.
    My stomach dropped. I knew that name. Seth Giles was a business reporter in Seattle, and his byline meant the story would be read by everyone. I hadn't ever met him in person, but I'd left messages for him on his voice mail and answered questions by email when I worked for HunTech. My heart stopped at the thought that he'd recognize my name and make the connection between the two stories on the Seattle newspaper's front page.
    "What publication are you writing this for?" I asked while my throat slowly tried to close off access to oxygen. The last thing I needed was for him to bring up my prior notoriety along with the murder. It was too interesting a coincidence for a reporter not to note, and that would just keep the bad news in the papers ever longer.
    He shrugged. "The Times is interested in it."
    Oh, damn it. Not good.
    "So, is the owner around?" he asked.
    I shook my head and caught Alicia's eye, nodding toward the register.
    "Sorry, I'd love to talk to you, but it will have to wait. I'm really busy right now," I said.
    Seth looked around the nearly empty store, then at Alicia, who joined me at the counter.
    "Do you have a card? I'll call you tomorrow." Suddenly, I needed to get out of the store and away from the reporter, as if I'd absorbed all of his nervous energy.
    He patted his pockets, then gave me a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I forgot to bring cards with me."
    I grabbed my purse and moved toward the door. "Oh well. Try me here tomorrow, and we'll catch up. Nice meeting you. Gotta run. Bye!"
    I bolted out the door and across the street to the Cinnamon Sugar Bakery. I waved at the head baker Heather Pinta, who was behind the counter wrapping up the remaining pastries for tomorrow's day-olds. From the front of the store, I watched Seth Giles leave the bookstore and walk down the sidewalk. A truck rolled down the street and blocked my view of him for a few long seconds, and when it moved on, he was gone from my view.
    "Hey, Meri. You want a cup of coffee?" Heather asked. "Large, extra cream, right?"
    I turned and gave her a smile. I'd been back in Danger Cove for just two months, but I'd already become a regular at the bakery. "Love one. Thanks."
    As soon as the coast was clear, I made my way back to the bookstore, coffee in hand. Alicia gave me a worried look as I walked in.
    "Everything okay?" She eyed the coffee then gave me a suspicious look. "Hope that's decaf."
    "No, everything is definitely not okay." I set the coffee down on the counter and let out a long exhale. "It's time to go into damage-control mode."
    Alicia nodded, her face serious.
    "You got it," she said. Then she tilted her head, and her brows knitted with confusion. "What does that mean?"

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    I spent the night tossing and turning and trying to figure out how to keep an intrepid veteran journalist from writing about Cal Montague's death. If I were still a public relations professional for a large tech firm, and the problem wasn't a dead body, it wouldn't be a problem—give the reporters what they want but also dangle something more interesting in front of them, like a juicy hunk of red meat in front of a dog. You wanted to write about mediocre stock performance? Sure. But did I mention that we had a new product about to launch that was going to revolutionize the industry?
    I had no leverage now. I would just have to hope that I could minimize the bookstore's role in the unsolved crime.
    I dragged myself to the bookstore, and a block from Dangerous Reads I remembered that it was Burt's day to work the early shift. That meant he'd be there already, making a pot of coffee from a can—the cheap stuff that he bought at the same store where he bought truck tires and