Murder in the Book Lover's Loft, page 1
Praise for Ellery Adams’s previous novels
“A literary mystery with a puckish hint of Nancy Drew.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Murder on the Poet’s Walk
“Love Chopped and mysteries? This delightful character-driven cozy is just the treat for you.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Murder in the Cookbook Nook
“Creating a group of suspects that will keep readers intrigued until the last page, Ellery Adams has proven one thing with this book: this is one series that should and will go on for a long time to come. In fact, the author has done such a brilliant job, readers will find themselves wanting to live in Storyton, no matter how many people end up dead there.”
—Suspense Magazine on Murder in the Locked Library
“Ellery does a wonderful job in capturing the essence of this whodunit with a visually descriptive narrative that not only lends itself to engaging dialogue but also seeing the action through the eyes of Jane and her fellow characters.”
—Dru’s Book Musings
“Combines clever clues, a smart and courageous heroine, and an interesting setting in a whodunit that will inspire readers to make further visits to Storyton Hall.”
—The Richmond Times-Dispatch on Murder in the Paperback Parlor
“This enchanting blend of mystery and fantasy succeeds in feeling timely and grounded, although few budding librarians would have sword training on their résumé. Book and mystery lovers alike will rejoice in this extraordinarily unique, exuberantly fun series.”
—Kings River Life Magazine on Murder in the Locked Library
“Adams hooks the reader into the story instantly . . . I highly recommend booking a room at Storyton Hall and hanging out with Jane, her great-aunt, and uncle, the employees who are family, and her girlfriends, The Cover Girls.”
—Cozy Mystery Book Reviews on Murder in the Reading Room
Also by Ellery Adams:
Book Retreat Mysteries:
Murder in the Mystery Suite
Murder in the Paperback Parlor
Murder in the Secret Garden
Murder in the Locked Library
Murder in the Reading Room
Murder in the Storybook Cottage
Murder in the Cookbook Nook
Murder on the Poet’s Walk
Murder in the Book Lover’s Loft
The Secret, Book, and Scone Society Mysteries:
The Secret, Book & Scone Society
The Whispered Word
The Book of Candlelight
Ink and Shadows
The Vanishing Type
Paper Cuts
ELLERY ADAMS
MURDER IN THE BOOK LOVER’S LOFT
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Table of Contents
Praise
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Author’s Note
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2023 by Ellery Adams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
The K and Teapot logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-2950-7
ISBN: 978-1-4967-2951-4 (ebook)
For Wendy.
Thank you for adopting this series when it
needed a home.
Like Muffet Cat, it has thrived in your care.
What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing?–it’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.
—Jack Kerouac
Welcome to Storyton Hall!
OUR STAFF IS HERE TO SERVE YOU.
Resort Manager—Jane Steward
Butler—Mr. Butterworth
Head Librarian—Mr. Sinclair
Head Chauffeur—Mr. Sterling
Head of Recreation—Mr. Lachlan
Head of Housekeeping—Mrs. Templeton
Head Cook—Mrs. Hubbard
Spa Manager—Tammie Kota
SELECT MERCHANTS OF STORYTON VILLAGE
Run for Cover Bookshop—Eloise Alcott
Daily Bread Cafe—Edwin Alcott
Cheshire Cat Pub—Bob and Betty Carmichael
Canvas Creamery—Phoebe Doyle
La Grande Dame Clothing Boutique—Mabel
Wimberly
Tresses Hair Salon—Violet Osborne
Pickled Pig Market—the Hogg brothers
Geppetto’s Toy Shop—Barnaby Nicholas
Hilltop Stables—Sam Nolan
Storyton Outfitters—Phil and Sandi Hughes
The Old Curiosity Shop—Roger Bachman
RESIDENTS OF OYSTER BAY
Olivia Limoges
Francis Belvedere
Bartenders Sammi and Reggie
Rachel Wilcox
Trent Little
Officers Lorna Locklear and Art Henniger
AUTHORS MENTIONED (FICTIONAL)
Angel Sanchez
Justin St. James
Heather O’Grady
Winston Hall
Chapter 1
Jane Steward stood in a small, secret room in the attic turret of a sprawling manor house called Storyton Hall, a world-famous resort catering to readers, and tried to come to a decision.
The old mansion was a repository of books. Thousands of them. Entire rooms were dedicated to books. They lined the walls and filled the shelves. They marched across mantelpieces and were stacked on tables.
A guest of Storyton Hall could spend a lazy morning cocooned in one of the soft chairs of the Daphne du Maurier Drawing Room, sipping coffee and nibbling a buttery croissant while they turned the pages of a well-loved paperback. They could while away a rainy afternoon reading by the fire in the Isak Dinesen Safari Room or borrow a book from the Henry James Library and carry it outside to the Anne of Green Gables Gazebo.
When it was time for a reading break, guests could swim in the Jules Verne Pool or take a long walk on Tennyson’s Trail. There was almost always a croquet game in progress on the Lewis Carroll Court or one could sign up for a falconry or archery lesson.
Such activity was bound to rouse an appetite, but no one stayed hungry for long at Storyton Hall. There was casual dining in the Rudyard Kipling Café, formal dining in the Madame Bovary Dining Room, and afternoon tea was served daily in the Agatha Christie Tea Room.
In this attic space high above those public areas, Jane knew that the tea service had already started, and she was unlikely to make it in time to savor a cup of Earl Grey and one of Mrs. Hubbard’s pumpkin scones. As much as she’d liked to take a break, she had important work to do first.
Her current task was to review the inventory list of what the literati would surely dub the Eighth Wonder of the World, and to select several items to sell, donate, or, if possible, return to the descendants of the original owner.
Hundreds of priceless literary treasures were housed in this fireproof, climate-controlled vault. There were drawers of manuscripts, scrolls, maps, and books. Works of fiction and nonfiction by some of the best-known authors of the ages were wrapped in layers of white paper and tucked into archival boxes like babies in their cradles.
The drawers also contained obscure and frightening propaganda by authors whose sole purpose was to negatively impact humankind’s future. The goal of their work was to twist the truth and transform the sacred into the profane. These materials had been handed over to the Stewards to be forever hidden.
The Steward family had served as Guardians to this strange and wonderful collection for centuries, and the august role often came with a steep price. Ever since Uncle Aloysius had passed the mantle on to her, Jane’s life had been marked by violence and strife.
Like all Guardians before her, Jane had sworn to protect and preserve the contents of the secret library. Fortunately, she was not alone in this endeavor. She had her Fins to keep her safe. Named after the fletching on an arrow, the Fins were four men of unwavering loyalty and specialized skill sets who worked as employees at Storyton Hall. They were as much a part of Jane’s family as were her twin sons, Fitzgerald and Hemingway.
Not long ago, Jane had decided it was time to put an end to her guardianship and to empty the secret library. Without it, there would be no reason for thieves and other miscreants to come to her resort. After hundreds of years, the Stewards would finally be safe, and Jane could focus her energy on her family, friends, and business.
However, the process of selling or donating the collection was proving to be a slow one. Some of the most incredible items, like an undiscovered Shakespeare play and the sequel to Jane Eyre, had already been rehomed, but a king’s fortune of literary treasures still remained.
Jane selected a notebook filled with prose written by Nathaniel Hawthorne. A tag on the archival box described how, in this unseen draft of The Scarlet Letter, Hester Prynne had had an affair with a freed Black man named Jacob Strong instead of the Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale. A member of the Hawthorne family had asked Jane’s ancestor to hide the notebook. This individual had offered no explanation but had paid a hefty storage fee.
“What should I do with you?” she said out loud, addressing the box containing the notebook.
Hawthorne’s work could be found in the archives at Yale, Harvard, the Library of Congress, and in three museums. He had dozens of living descendants, and Jane could hardly pull a name out of a hat and surprise one family member with a piece of literary history that was not only worth a king’s ransom but would also invite a torrent of media attention.
In the end, she decided to reach out to her contact at the Library of Congress. Through this contact, she could donate Hawthorne’s notebook, as well as a poem attributed to William Cullen Bryant. Not only would Jane’s anonymity be guaranteed but the library would share its new acquisitions with the world.
“Books are meant to be shared,” she told the room at large. When she paused to consider a slim volume in the bottom drawer that touted the attributes of eugenics, she amended her comment to, “Most books are meant to be shared.”
As for a folio of studies by Mary Cassatt she’d found in a case near the door, this would be sold. The trio of unfinished drawings of a young mother bathing in a river with her children—all in the nude—would bring in enough money to pay for the new furnace and steam boilers.
Storyton Hall was a five-star resort, and if Jane wanted it to stay that way, she had to continuously improve its facilities. The funds from the sale of the Cassatt folio would go toward finishing the work on the new folly, the sculpture Uncle Aloysius had commissioned for the reflection pool, and, most importantly, a pay raise for the groundskeeping crew.
Jane carefully placed the Hawthorne notebook, the poem, and the Cassatt folio into a padded box and left the library. She locked the door, descended the narrow spiral staircase, and slipped through the gap in the wall behind her great-aunt’s china cabinet.
Aunt Octavia had already gone down for tea and was no doubt drifting through the kitchens in search of treats and new tidbits of gossip, so Jane returned the cabinet to its proper place and exited the apartment.
She’d just pressed the button to call the service elevator when her phone buzzed.
“Ms. Steward, it’s Abby at the rec desk. I have a guest here who signed up for a trail ride at Hilltop Stables that starts in fifteen minutes. She didn’t think she wanted to go but just changed her mind. The problem is there’s no one to drive her to the stables. Mr. Lachlan is running a falconry lesson and my archery class starts in ten minutes. All the drivers are either at the train station or with other guests.”
“I’ll drop her off. I’m going to town anyway, and I don’t want her to miss her ride. It’s so beautiful on the trails right now. Can you ask her to meet me on the front steps?”
Forgoing the elevator, Jane took the stairs to the ground floor and walked briskly to her office. After depositing the box on her desk, she locked the office and headed for the garages.
Storyton Hall owned a fleet of vintage Rolls-Royce sedans, which were all in use. The only available vehicle was a mud-splattered pickup.
“Sorry about the dirt,” Jane said to her guest as she pulled up in front of the main doors.
Her guest, a lovely young woman with a corona of blond hair and a winsome smile, didn’t mind one bit. After telling Jane that she was grateful for the ride, she chatted amiably the whole way to Hilltop Stables.
When Jane turned onto the road leading to the stables, the woman confessed that she was incredibly nervous, and that her desire to impress her boyfriend had taken precedence over her fear of horses.
“Don’t worry. Sam is used to beginners,” Jane assured her. “He’s been taking people on trail rides for years. His horses are so gentle and calm that my sons have been riding them since they were knee-high. Try to relax and concentrate on the foliage. It’s peak leaf-peeping season around here, and the woods are putting on quite a show.”
Jane pulled into the dirt lot in front of the smaller of Sam’s two barns and turned to the young woman. “Sam is probably giving your group a quick orientation in that building with the green roof. Let’s see if we can get you there before it’s over.”
Inside the building, one of Sam’s assistants was addressing the group.
Jane waited until the young woman had joined her boyfriend before heading back outside. She was a few feet from her pickup when a Sheriff’s Department SUV crested the top of the hill.
Sheriff Evans parked in an empty spot and exited the vehicle. He waved at Jane and said, “I didn’t expect to bump into you here.”
Jane smiled at the man she’d come to think of as a friend. “The last time I saw you, you said you’d been binge reading Westerns. Are you here for a ride? And did you bring your spurs and your lasso?”
“I’m not a horse guy. I like to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground.” Adjusting his utility belt so it rested more comfortably on his hips, he glanced around. “Do you know where Sam is?”
“No. I was just dropping off a guest and didn’t look for him. Is everything okay?”
The sheriff rubbed the salt-and-pepper bristle on his chin. “Sam found a body in the woods, not far from that rental cabin with the view of the river. Sam thinks the guy’s been outside for a while.”
Startled by the news, all Jane could think to say was, “That’s awful.”
At that moment, Sam appeared from around the corner of the barn. He jogged over to Jane and the sheriff and pointed to one of the trail heads. “He’s that way. Is Doc Charles coming?”
“Should be here any minute now,” said the sheriff.
Sam pushed a wave of sandy brown hair off his forehead and looked between Jane and the sheriff. “I don’t think the guy’s local. I don’t recognize him.”
A knot formed in Jane’s stomach. “We’re not missing any guests. At least, no one’s reported someone as missing.”
Hearing the growl of an engine, all three of them turned to watch a yellow Bronco emerge from around a bend in the road. The sheriff signaled to the driver, and Doc Charles parked his dust-coated car.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he grabbed his field kit from the back seat. “There’s a nasty bug going around, and half of the third grade was in my office today. If you haven’t had your flu shot yet, you should get it.”
Sheriff Evans said, “I’ve had mine, but my wife hasn’t. I’ll remind her when I get home. Sam? Can you show us the way?”
“Sure.”
When Sam began walking, Jane fell into step beside him. When an unusual death occurred within the town limits, Storyton Hall always seemed to be involved, which was why Jane didn’t think twice about accompanying the men.
