Holidays and Homicide (A Spellbound Bookshop Mystery Book 10) by J A Whiting

Author:J A Whiting [Whiting, J A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J A Whiting Books and Whitemark Publishing
Published: 2025-12-21T00:00:00+00:00

The library’s archive room occupied the basement level, a space few patrons knew existed. Shelby followed James down a narrow staircase, through a door marked “Staff Only,” and into a climate-controlled chamber that smelled of old paper, dust, and the faint mustiness that basements accumulate despite preservation efforts.

Metal shelving units filled with archival boxes lined the walls, each labeled with a year range and subject matter. A large table occupied the center of the room, where James had already spread out folders, photographs, and bound ledgers. He wore cotton gloves to handle the delicate documents—a professional habit from his days as an attorney, when handling evidence properly mattered.

“Julie knows we’re down here,” James explained as Shelby examined the materials he'd assembled. “She’ll warn us if anyone comes looking.”

As if summoned by the mention of her name, Julie Hall appeared at the door carrying a tray with two steaming mugs. Her layered hair framed a face lined with both age and wisdom. She set the tray on an empty corner of the table.

“Peppermint tea,” she announced. “My holiday tradition.” She gave James a meaningful look that suggested she understood the importance of their research. “I’ll keep watch upstairs.”

After Julie departed, James pulled out a manila folder stamped “PERSONNEL—CONFIDENTIAL” in faded red letters.

“Amy Winterbury wasn’t just a clerk,” he explained, spreading out employment records. “She was specifically assigned to assist with the development fund accounts, a federal grant of over $750,000 awarded for waterfront improvements.” He pointed to several documents bearing Amy’s neat signature. “She handled all the paperwork related to the fund’s management.”

“That’s a lot of money for 1973,” Shelby noted, scanning the figures.

“Equal to over four million in today’s dollars,” James confirmed. “That’s where things get interesting.” He laid out project proposals, invoices, and authorization forms. “On paper, they renovated the entire harbor area. In reality, only about a third of the proposed work was ever done.”

Shelby examined a ledger showing the official allocation of funds. “Where did the rest of the money go?”

James pointed to subtle discrepancies in the accounting such as transfers to contractor accounts that later moved to offshore holdings, and materials purchased at inflated prices from companies that existed only on paper.

“It was quite sophisticated for the time,” he explained. “Most people wouldn’t notice these irregularities unless they were specifically looking for them, but Amy was smart, detail-oriented, and apparently had an eye for numbers that didn’t add up.”

The door opened, and Travis stepped in, bringing the smell of cold air with him. He carried a folder of his own, which he set on the table as James brought him up to speed.

“I found something that might connect,” Travis said, pulling out photographs of property records. “Several waterfront properties were purchased just before the development project by shell companies. I traced them back to a partnership between Love, Breeze, Police Chief Miller, and Mayor Roland Hancock.”

He spread out the photos, pointing to signatures and dates. “After Amy’s death, these properties were mysteriously reclassified as ‘historically significant,’

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