Page 11 of A Winter of Discontent for Henry Milch
A bell rang above my head when I entered the store. Even though it had changed hands twice since my last visit, the bookstore looked pretty much the same. There were books everywhere, including stacked on chairs and on the floor. As you walked in there was a counter with an antique cash register and a display of the bestsellersThe Da Vinci Code,To the NinesandThe Five People You Meet in Heaven. There were only two things that were different about the bookstore. One was a bookcase near the door that was entirely devoted to romance novels, with a sign that said, ‘WE NOW CARRY ROMANCE!’ surrounded by hearts. The other different thing was a stack of the bookSlander: Liberal Lies About the American Rightby Ann Coulter with a handprinted sign on top designating 50% OFF!
Penny Pelletier sat on a stool behind the counter. She was in her mid-thirties with peachy skin and thin colorless hair. Stereotypically, she wore glasses, and also wore an apron with many of the pins she sold attached. READERS DO IT BY THE BOOK stood out.
“Welcome to Village Books!” she said brightly.
“Hi, I’m Mo—Henry Milch. I’m an investigator working with Hamlet Gilbody…”
Okay, so I gave myself a promotion. I workedforhim, notwithhim— but big deal, right?
“…we’re looking into the fall Roberta LaCross took at Three Friends winery while you were working there.”
“I remember. I already gave a statement to the insurance company.”
“Yes. I read it. I just want to go over a few things.”
“All right.” She fidgeted on the stool. I was getting the strong feeling she didn’t want to talk to me.
“I want confirm that you didn’t wait on Roberta or anyone in her party.”
“I did not.”
“Do you remember about how long they were there?”
“A couple of hours.”
“Do you have a sense of how much they drank? Did you notice a bottle on the table, maybe?”
“I had my own customers. I really don’t know how much they drank.”
Then I remembered Ham wanted me to get people talking and not say so much myself. Well, actually he wanted me to do that when I talked to Roberta’s friends. Which made me ask, “Are you friends with Roberta?”
“I wasn’t then. But she comes into the bookstore and we’ve gotten friendly. She’s quite the character. She’ll talk your ear off. And some of it’s about books, so I don’t really mind.”
“Is that why you got uncomfortable when I asked about how she drank? Because you’re friends?”
“I’m friends with Melanie, too. It’s an awkward spot.”
I decided to be more direct, “Do you think Roberta was overserved?”
“Maybe. Right before she went to the ladies’ room her friends were teasing her about slurring her words.”
“You remember that or she told you that?”
“Both.”
I thanked her and was about to leave when I noticed the children’s section. I walked over and stared at all the books for a moment. Without turning around I asked Penny, “When should you start reading to babies?”
“They say six months, but earlier is better.”
Emerald was almost six months old, so, yeah, she needed books. It didn’t take too long to figure out the earliest books were the ones that were fifteen or twenty thick cardboard pages long. Obviously, they were meant to stand up to a baby chewing on them, throwing them around, vomiting on them, and various other infant calamites.
I picked outGood Night Moon,The Very Hungry CaterpillarandBrown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See?I also gotWhere The Wild Things AreandAlexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. They were both too old for her, butIwas interested. I especially wanted to read the Alexander one, because it basically sounded like my life. I also bought my grandmother a copy ofStupid White Menby Michael Moore.
Nana Cole would hateStupid White Menand would never read it. But there was real joy in buying it for her. For one thing, it was on her credit card, so I was making her pay for it. For another, when she complained about it, I’d be able to say, “I’m sorry. But he’s from Michigan. I thought you’d like it.”
I giggled several times on the way home.
CHAPTER FOUR
