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why Virginia hadn’t returned the first call. The phone rang four times, and the voice mail kicked in; after the beep, April left a message. “Hey Virginia, it’s April again. I wanted to talk about those books you brought in. Please give me a holler at the store. I hope everything’s okay. Call me.” She left the store number, and as an afterthought she tacked on her cell phone number.
    When she was done with that, she checked the register. All in all, it had been a good day, so far anyway. The store still had a few hours left to go, and she hoped she would have a few more sales, and trades, before the end of the day.
    But that didn’t happen. The next few hours were pretty dull, and when the door finally opened, at ten minutes to five, April wanted to scream for joy. Two men in dress clothes came in, and her heart sank. They didn’t look like book readers. Hopefully they weren’t stopping by the strip mall to ask for directions.
    She bit back a giggle. Men never ask for directions. “May I help you gentlemen?”
    “April Johnstone?”
    “Yes,” she confirmed cautiously.
    “I’m Det. Steve Rogers with the Denver PD, and this is my partner Det. James Threadway. We’d like to talk to you about Virginia Midland.”
    April’s blood turned cold. She read enough mystery novels to know that detectives didn’t show up for minor cases. They were dispatched, mostly anyway, in cases of death.
    “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice even.
    “Did you know Ms. Midland?”
    There it was, the past tense word that told April why Virginia hadn’t called her back. “I know Virginia, yes. She’s a customer, and a friend. Not a hang out friend, but we talk when she’s in here.”
    “You called her this afternoon,” Threadway said.
    “Yes. She brought in some books to trade and I haven’t seen her since then.”
    “When was she in here?” Threadway asked.
    “Last week. I know that because I saw her at the club the previous Tuesday night and—”
    “Club?” Rogers interrupted.
    “Um, no, she brought in books recently, to trade.” April cleared her throat. “What is this about?”
    “Ms. Johnstone, we hate to tell you this, but Ms. Midland is dead. She was found in her house this morning after a mailman became concerned about mail piling up in her box. She’s been dead for several days. When was the last time you talked to her?”
    April’s hands started to shake. She grasped the counter in an effort to steady her wobbly knees. “Um, I need… to sit.”
    The two detectives moved quickly. Rogers grabbed her arm, and Threadway grabbed one of two chairs April kept behind the counter. It was as if air was making its way into her nose, but not finding its way into her lungs.
    April started breathing in through her mouth, trying desperately to catch her breath. One of the men was rubbing her back, telling her to try and calm her breathing before she hyperventilated. His voice was like a buzzing noise in her head.
    This couldn’t be happening. The beautiful blonde whom April had just seen at Charlie’s, who was excited about the possibility of a new Dom, was dead. She’d just been in the shop. This just couldn’t be possible.
    “Are you sure you have the right person?”
    “Yes,” one of them said.
    April straightened and looked between the two. She couldn’t remember which was which.
    “You and Ms. Midland were good friends?”
    April looked at the one who spoke. “Well, detective, um…”
    “Threadway,” he supplied.
    “Right, Threadway. She’d been coming into the shop for about a year now, and after a few visits we’d talk, about books, movies, and things like that. We didn’t see each other socially, if that’s what you’re asking. We didn’t go out to dinner, or movies, or shopping.”
    “But you mentioned a club,” Rogers reminded her.
    April could have kicked herself in the butt for that. Of course, while they were investigating Virginia’s life, they would learn about her