Ink and Shadows(Secret, Book, & Scone Society #4)(79)

Without warning, Beck lunged forward. His face was inches away from Nora’s. She could feel the heat of his breath as he said, “I don’t know what you’re babbling about, but I think you should shut up now.”

Stifling an urge to cry out, Nora raised her hands in a submissive gesture. “I just wanted to come clean about those pages. I’m sorry that you had to find out at the last minute. If you still want Cecily’s book, I’ll knock a few hundred off the price. After all, it’s none of my business what you do with those blank pages.”

Beck stood up and edged closer to Nora. He stopped at the chair next to hers, perched casually on its arm, and fixed Nora with an icy stare. “What a strange thing to say to a collector. What would I do with those pages?”

It’s now or never.

Nora blurted, “Forge a grimoire.”

The moment the words left her mouth, her fight-or-flight response kicked in. She wanted to run—to put as much distance between herself and this man as she possibly could. Her body thrummed with adrenaline, but she didn’t move. To Beck, she probably looked like a rabbit in an open field, exposed and paralyzed by fear.

To her surprise, he began to laugh. The sound was devoid of merriment. It held only mockery and arrogance. “You’ve been reading too many fantasies, Book Lady.”

Beck pulled an envelope from his coat pocket. He removed several bills from the wad of cash inside before tossing the envelope on the coffee table. “Your payment. Minus three hundred for your error and another two hundred for springing it on me this late in the game. Feel free to count it.”

Having regained control of the situation, Beck returned to his chair. He sat down and placed the book back in its box. Seeing that Nora hadn’t touched the envelope, he said, “You’re far more trusting than I am.”

It was now Nora’s turn to stare him down. “You didn’t correct me. I said that it was Cecily’s book. I knew her as Celeste, but to you, she was Cecily. She was a gentle, compassionate woman, but you punished her for leaving Still Waters. For having the nerve to defy your wishes.” Nora pointed at him. “I saw you. The night of the festival. I saw you sitting with Bren. I saw the tattoos on your arm. And when I found Bren’s body, I saw the tattoos on her neck. She gave me the book page for a reason, Monkshood81.”

Nora clamped her mouth shut. Had she said too much?

But she’d had no other choice. Beck had been on the verge of leaving, and Nora couldn’t allow that. The sheriff didn’t have enough evidence to make an arrest. At this point, he probably couldn’t even question Beck unless it was voluntary. And while Nora was positive that Beck had been with Bren at the festival, she couldn’t swear to it under oath. His face had been cloaked in shadow. He’d been there for a few minutes before slinking away into the night.

He wasn’t slinking away now. His shoulders were pressed firmly against his chair back, and his long fingers were curled over his knees. While his knuckles had gone white, his face and neck were a mottled red. Malice glistened in his eyes.

He was the rattlesnake, and Nora had poked him with a stick.

Everything now hung on Beck’s reaction.

But it was taking way too long.

Nora tried to hide her terror. If she showed any weakness, Beck would regain control of his emotions and would deflect any further taunting. If he succeeded in this moment, he would most likely get away with murder.

“You were clever. Your workmanship was almost perfect. But your ink was off.” Nora spread her hands. “Why didn’t you spend more time researching the ingredients? You could have fooled everyone. Were you in a rush? Or did you get lazy?”

“Bren looked up the formula!” Beck shouted. “That little bitch said that our ink was perfect. She was such a good girl in the beginning. So sweet and malleable. But after she was diagnosed with that ridiculous allergy, she changed.” He barked out a dry laugh. “She demanded a higher share of the profits. Stupid girl. No one tells me what to do with community funds.”

Nora wanted to let out a whoop of triumph. She’d done it. She’d triggered Beck into admitting a connection to one of his victims. But those few lines weren’t enough. He could still escape the trap. It hadn’t been completely sprung.

In a voice dripping with disdain, Nora said, “You’re such a cliché. You couldn’t get Cecily to do what you wanted. She wouldn’t hand over Juliana’s book, so you turned to her daughter. Was Bren even legal when the Maestro began favoring her with his attentions?”

“You wouldn’t understand how a community like ours works. You’re a person weighed down by possessions.” He waved around the bookshop. “At Still Waters, we share everything. Money, food, and work. There’s no such thing as a starving artist in our world. We keep art alive in a society that’s forgotten its value. Art is in danger. You might not know it, but you’re waging the same war. Consider how many people read free eBooks and nothing else. They place little value on the quality of the writing or feel no loyalty to any author. They read books only because they’re free. Books are just another artform being devalued. But in Still Waters, we protect Art.”

Nora couldn’t argue. She knew far too many authors who’d had to take on second jobs because being a full-time writer didn’t pay the bills. And the number of independent bookstores being driven out of business by cyber retailers was tragic.