Double Booked For Death

“Oh my Gawd, you’re the reason Valerie is dead! If you hadn’t made her come here, like, she’d still be all alive!”

“Yeah, it’s your fault,” her companion hotly agreed, tossing the single inky lock that dangled from his otherwise shaved hairline. His drawn-on black brows dove into an accusing frown as he jabbed his forefinger in Darla’s direction. “So how ya gonna fix it? We’re already telling everyone we know to boycott your store.”

“Yeah,” the girl chimed in, snapping her gum, “I already posted on my Facebook page.”

“But it wasn’t my fault! It was an accident. The police already said as much,” Darla countered. Between the goth kids and the Christian crowd, she seemingly couldn’t win for losing. As for the boy’s threatening demeanor, that had her glancing back the way she’d come to see if Jake was nearby. Unfortunately, it looked like she was on her own, with only half a turkey Reuben to use as a defensive weapon.

“Look, er, kids,” she tried again. “We can’t bring Valerie back, but there’s a chance I might be able to get my hands on some signed books from her.” Seeing a spark of interest replace their hostility, she went on, “I can’t guarantee anything, of course, but—”

“Sunny, Robert, how are you?” a familiar voice called.

Glancing back at the buildings behind her, Darla saw Mary Ann waving from the front door of her brother’s shop, Bygone Days Antiques. “What are you two doing out of school so early?”

“We declared it a day of mourning,” Sunny answered for them, her tone appropriately doleful. “Like, no way I could sit through social studies thinking about Valerie.”

“I understand,” the old woman answered with a sympathetic click of her tongue. “I felt the very same way when I heard that Carole Lombard had died.”

While the teens exchanged blank glances at the mention of one of Hollywood’s most famous Golden Age actresses, Mary Ann went on, “Be sure to stop by the store this weekend. We just unpacked some vintage mourning jewelry that you might like.”

“Sick,” the obviously misnamed Sunny replied in apparent approval.

“Ill,” Robert added, seemingly agreeing with his girlfriend. “Thanks for the heads-up, Ms. Plinski.”

“Oh, no problemo, it’s chill,” the elderly woman exclaimed, her garbled attempt at hipness drawing tolerant snickers from both teens. Then she turned her attention to Darla, gesturing her to join her. “Darla, I need your help here in the store. When you say good-bye to your friends, can you stop in for a moment?”

“Sure, Mary Ann, I’m on the way,” Darla called back, realizing she’d just been tossed a life preserver, in a manner of speaking. To the goth pair, she brightly added, “We’ll talk more later. Bye!”

She turned on her heel and took the dozen or so steps to the antique shop at a brisker pace than usual. Once past the shop door, she glanced back for a final look. The teens were still eyeing her with suspicion but did not appear inclined to pursue. She closed the door behind her and turned to Mary Ann with a sigh.

“Thanks for the rescue. I was afraid it might get a bit nasty out there.”

“Oh, surely not,” the old woman said with a smile. “Sunny and Robert are perfectly nice children and good customers, to boot. But I happened to look out the window and saw everyone standing there outside. They did seem rather upset, so I thought I should defuse the situation. My gracious, aren’t all those flowers something?”

“They’re something, all right,” Darla agreed with a sigh. “I imagine it’s been pretty unnerving for you today, too. Did you see the cable news people circling like hawks this morning? And you were right about people wanting to buy. I ended up opening the store for a couple of hours. But good old Sunny and Robert said that they’re organizing a boycott against me.”

She gave Mary Ann an overview of her morning, including the fact that the police had determined not to charge Marnie in connection with the author’s death. She left out the part about Hamlet’s finding the lipstick note, however, as well as her debate with Jake as to whether or not it constituted a clue. The older woman nodded sympathetically as she listened, and Darla felt herself relax just a bit. Something about the woman’s briskly cheerful attitude seemed to dial down her own feeling of doom.

The store itself added to that homey feel. Unlike other similar establishments with their emphasis on overpriced European antiquities, Bygone Days Antiques specialized in eighteenth – and nineteenth-century Americana, the sort of items that one might find in one’s grandparents’ house. Though she’d only visited the store a couple of times, the faintly musty scents of old wooden furniture and vintage clothing and linens always made Darla feel at home.

“Well, I’m glad the poor driver won’t have to face any charges,” Mary Ann said. “ As for the rest, it’s my opinion that when it’s our time to leave this world, it’s our time to go, and nothing can stop us. So consider yourself absolved of any fault. Now, would you like to come upstairs for a cup of tea?”