The Librarian's Last Chapter (10 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Coffee in hand, I glanced at the calendar and groaned. The
night of the book fair was approaching way too fast. Through the kitchen
window, I could see several two by four studded boxes which Leroy would attach
as rooms and hideaways on the huge tunnel he’d found somewhere. The tunnel
actually looked like a large ventilation tube. He said with flickering lights
and eerie sounds, along with rooms and scary characters, we’d have high school
students scared to tears.

I shook my head. I wanted
the kids to have fun, not scared out of their wits. But, if Lindsey’s
excitement was anything to go by each time she spotted Leroy’s progress, the
attraction would be a hit. I knew one thing…I had no intention of entering the
tunnel.

“Good morning.” Mom
entered through the back door and headed right for the coffee pot.

“You love this kitchen,
don’t you?” Although the guest cottage, Mom and Leroy’s home now after they
gave the big house to me, had a small kitchenette, Mom still made regular trips
to the house to cook and brew her coffee. “You can move back in. This house is
too big for just Lindsey and me.”

“No, no.” Mom waved away
the words. “After you’re married to Duane, you may want to expand your family.”

At the age of
thirty-five, I doubted it. “I still think it’s silly when you love this place
like you do.”

“I’m close enough.” She
pulled out a chair and joined me at the table. “You looked deep in thought when
I came in.”

“I’m trying to put the
pieces of this puzzle together. None of our suspects have done anything to take
suspicion off them. Also, did you notice how lopsided the kitchen drawer where
I keep my notes is? I think the killer has seen the list.” Which means they
could suspect we’re closer than we actually are. My family was in danger. I was
in danger. “Maybe you and Leroy should take Lindsey on a small trip.”

After the last mystery,
they’d purchased a motor home for the times they wanted to travel the country.
I’d feel better if they were far away from here for the next week or so.

“And miss all the fun? No
thanks.” Mom’s smile didn’t disguise the worry in her eyes. But, she was a
trooper and only God reaching down and holding her still would keep her from
helping her only child.

“Where do we go from
here?” I got up and retrieved my clipboard from the broken drawer.

Mom wiggled her fingers
to see the sheets of paper on the board. “Well, rumor has it that Janet and
Brad Snyder paid off their gambling debts with help from his parents and are
attending Gambler’s Anonymous, so I think we can take them off the list.” Mom
penciled a line through their names. “There’s also word that Officer Wilson is
dating Ingrid Jennings. That doesn’t necessarily make him a suspect, it only
shows he has no sense.”

I laughed. “Where do you
get your information?”

“The craft club, where
else? Actually, this time, Betty Larson called me. She and the ladies have been
snooping.”

God bless those
silver-haired women. “What else?”

“Sarah Boatwright, the
high school office manager quit after a dispute of some kind with Cheryl. Now,
Cheryl is the office manager. Should we be gossiping this way?”

My hand stilled with the
coffee cup halfway to my mouth. “I hadn’t thought of it as gossiping. I thought
we were solving a murder.”

“True.” Mom shrugged.
“But after this, I need to find a way to curtail the information the craft
ladies give me. I don’t care to know everyone’s dirty laundry.”

Neither did I, but in
this case, it seemed a necessary evil. “We still have plenty of suspects. Does
anyone in particular stand out in your mind?”

“Mr. Dean moved his
secret affections from Mrs. Grimes to Estelle Willis pretty quick. Doesn’t make
him a killer, though, just cold-hearted.”

“I gave him the antique
books yesterday. From Mrs. Grimes’s journal, it was plain to see she cared
about him. Why would he kill her though? It wasn’t as if the information of
their relationship would affect anyone if it became common knowledge.”

“I thought he was your
top choice.”

“He was. Now, I’m not so
sure.” It was just a feeling I had, but the pain in the man’s eyes when I’d
given him the books haunted me. There had to be a reason they’d kept their love
a secret. “Mrs. Willis is writing a book that parallel’s the murders. She’s my
top choice now.”

“It’s possible she wrote
the chapters after hearing the details.”

“Maybe. I still think it
warrants a conversation with her.” Now to find a way to bring up the subject
without the woman knowing I’d read her manuscript. “We’d better get to work.” I
also needed to find time to separate the latest fliers into stacks of thirty
and staple a flier of the fair activities to each page. The days weren’t long
enough for everything I needed to do.

Although I was bound to
love whatever Duane came up with for our honeymoon, I prayed it was something
that took us away from here for at least a week. No more murders or mysteries
for me.

“Why don’t you take the
time to go see Mrs. Willis and I’ll open the store?” Mom said. “You’ll be back
before any rush.”

“Today’s the day the
women from the retirement center go shopping.”

“They don’t come until
ten.” Mom took my mug and set mine and hers in the sink. “I’ll be fine until
then.”

“Okay.” Maybe I’d find
something to say to the woman by the time I arrived at the school. It was time
to light a fire under the rear end of each suspect. The thought gave me chills.

While Mom headed toward
the store, I headed for the school, pulling into the lot as Duane got out of
his truck. The sight of him brightened my day, and I honked.

He turned with a grin and
met me half-way across the parking lot. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey, handsome.” I lifted
my face for a kiss. “Careful. We might get busted for PDA and have to spend a
day in detention.”

He cradled my face in his
hands. “I’m willing to take that chance.” He kissed me long and thorough before
pulling back. “What are you up to?”

I explained about the
manuscript. He frowned as I talked. “I guess you’ll be safe here at the school,
but then I want you to head straight to the store. I don’t want you or Gertie
to be alone at any time. Understood?”

“Yes, and I’m in total
agreement. I’d stop all this if I could.”

He nodded. “I know, but
you’re in too deep now. It shouldn’t be too hard to find a way to bring up the
subject of her book. Everyone knows she’s writing one.” He glanced at his
watch. “She has prep first hour. You can probably catch her in the teacher’s
lounge.”

“Thanks.” We walked into
the school together,
then
parted ways. I tossed a wave
to Cheryl, now in the small office manager’s office. She already looked more
harried than usual.

As Duane thought, Estelle
was in the lounge, her laptop open on the table. I pretended to be busy
studying the teacher’s cubbies. I should have thought to bring something with
me to look like work. As it was, it was obvious I was hovering.

“Did you want something?”
Estelle sighed. “You’re making it hard for me to concentrate.”

“Actually, yes.” I pulled
out a chair and sat across from her. “I’m thinking of writing a book, and
you’re the first person I thought of.”

She snorted. “Everyone
wants to be a writer. Go ahead, ask your questions.”

“What genre are you
writing?”

“Murder mystery.”

“Where do you get your
ideas?” No sense in beating around the bush.

“From life.” She crossed
her arms. “Somehow, I get the feeling you already know all this.”

“Some of it.” No point in
lying. If Estelle is the killer, she already knows what I know. I bit my bottom
lip. How could I bring up the subject of Mrs. Grimes and Stacy? “What sort of
research do you do? I mean, if you have someone stab someone, how would you
know what it was really like unless you’d actually stabbed someone?”

“There are ways around
that, Marsha. You’re still as nosy as you were as a child.” She pointed a
finger at me. “Sometimes, that can get you in a lot of trouble.”

“Is that a warning?”

“It’s advice.” Her eyes
narrowed. “You think I killed Harriet and that reporter, don’t you?” She
cackled. “Oh, this is priceless. I may just have to put it in my next book.
Nosy mom accuses upstanding teacher of murder.”

“Did you?” I leaned my
elbows on the table and speared her with the most intense look I could muster.
“I’ve seen your manuscript.” I held up a hand as she started to speak. “It
doesn’t matter how I got a hold of it. The details are pretty accurate for
someone to have read about the crimes in the paper. I gave the manuscript to
the police.” Satisfied, I straightened.

Her eyes widened. “You’ve
ruined me. If word gets out…” She shook her head. “Meddlesome, that’s what you
are. One of these days, your luck will run out, and I’ll write about it in a
novel.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” She
leaned across the table until our noses were inches apart. “I’ve never liked
you Marsha Callahan. Not even when I was your teacher. Don’t bother writing a
book. You’re skills aren’t up to par.”

“It’s Marsha Steele.”

“Whatever. Go stick your
nose in someone else’s business.” She sat back down and started typing. “We’re
done here.”

I shoved away from the
table. The conversation could have gone either way, I suppose. I didn’t expect
her to confess, but she gave me enough information to keep her at the top of my
suspect list. If she was the killer, maybe she’d make her move soon and this
whole thing would be over. As long as over didn’t mean me lying on a slab in
the funeral home.

On my way out of the
lounge, I passed Mr. Dean. He avoided my gaze, but his landed on Estelle
instead. Her eyes flickered toward him before returning to her computer screen.
If the two were in a relationship, things were on the rocks.

I headed to the front
office and marched up to Cheryl’s desk. “Congratulations on the promotion.”

Her eyes filled with
tears. “Everyone thinks I got Sarah fired on purpose so I could have her job. I
didn’t! All I did was inform Mr. Dean that she hadn’t booked the buses for the
third grade field trip. Since it wasn’t the first time, he reported her to the
board. Then, she told him she had a cruise booked for December. When he denied
her request because of the time frame, she ordered the tickets anyway.”

“I doubt it was your
fault. It’s not that easy to get fired from a school unless you’re into
something illegal or immoral.” Most likely it was the purchasing of the tickets
when she’d been told no. Even I knew that working right before the Christmas
break was mandatory. What was wrong with people?

River Valley seemed to be
overrun with strangers. What happened to our peaceful little town? Crime used
to be virtually nonexistent. Now, there was a murder every six months. And it
all started with the women’s ministry at the church when the leader wanted to
adopt a child from South America.

That one act seemed to
have opened Pandora’s Box, and I was getting sucked into the vortex.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Mom?” Lindsey entered the kitchen, her face creased with
worry. Behind her marched Officer Bradford.

I slid my notes under the
morning paper. “Officer. Can we help you? Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“This isn’t a social
call, Mrs. Steele.” He squared his shoulders. “We received an anonymous call to
the station alerting us to the fact that you killed Mrs. Grimes.”

“What?” I shot to my
feet, spilling my coffee over the newspaper. “That’s ridiculous. What possible
motive would I have? Where’s Bruce?”

“Officer Barnett is
following other leads.”

I glanced over his
shoulder at my daughter. “Lindsey, go to school. Everything is fine here.”

“But—”

“Go to school.” My neck
heated. This latest killer was a coward, accusing innocent people of their
devious crimes. Well, I wouldn’t stand for it. Not for a minute.

Once Lindsey scooted out
the door, I turned back to the officer who didn’t look much older than my
daughter. “What did the anonymous caller say?”

“That if we search your
house, we’ll find evidence that you killed both victims.” He glanced toward the
knife block on the counter.

My gaze followed his. One
of the knives was missing. How could I not have noticed that before? It must
have happened during our break-in. “If you think one of my knives was used to
kill Stacy, you’re wrong. It wasn’t the same brand.” The one that had stuck out
of Stacy’s chest had had a red handle. I was certain of it. Mine were stainless
steel.

“Perhaps.” He looked
taken aback that I knew such a detail from the crime. Most likely, that was a
fact they wanted kept secret in order to whittle the killer out of the list of
suspects. “That particular weapon is easily found at Wal-Mart.”

“Then why the interest in
the empty spot in my knife block?” I crossed my arms. “This is harassment,
plain and simple, and a clear tactic to throw y’all off the real killer’s
tracks. It appears to be working.” If they didn’t get their heads on straight
and catch this person, one of my family might be the next victim, and that was
something I would not stand back and let happen.

“What’s going on?” Mom
entered through the back door, clearly arriving for her morning coffee chat
with me.

“Officer Bradford seems
to think that since we’re missing a knife, that I killed Stacy.”

“That’s ridiculous.
Besides, I borrowed the knife yesterday to chop carrots. It’s at the cottage.”
She poured herself a cup of coffee, and then noticed my spill on the table. She
sighed and grabbed a rag.

She grabbed the sodden
papers from the
table,
my notes included, and dumped
the lot in the trash. I could fish the notes out later, when Office Sharp Eyes
wasn’t around. First Bruce kept his nose in my business, now this upstart. The
day hadn’t started well and would most likely go downhill from here.

“Now, unless you plan to
arrest me,” I said. “I’m going to ask you to leave. Does Bruce know you’re
here?”

“No, ma’am, he doesn’t. I
don’t need to clear my actions with him.”

“Be sure that I will tell
him of your visit. Good day.” I marched to the front door and held it open. “If
you actually find incriminating evidence against me, feel free to return. I’ve
enjoyed our visit.”

He rolled his eyes and
left. I closed the door and sagged against the painted wood. I had an hour
until my dress fitting. This ugly accusation threatened to ruin the joy of the
day.

“Our killer has to be a
woman,” Mom said from the kitchen doorway. “Only women are this sneaky.”

“Maybe.” I grabbed my
purse. “I’ve got to go or I’ll miss my fitting. The suspect notes were under
the newspaper. Could you see whether they are salvageable?”

“Yep. I’ll see you at the
store in a couple of hours.”

While I drove, my mind
circled around what facts I knew. One…someone needed money bad enough to kill
for something that might or might not exist. Two…I was closer than I thought or
they wouldn’t be taking such drastic measures as trying to cast suspicion on
me. Three…well, other than a list of suspects that might or might not contain
the actual killer, I had nothing else.

I drove past Norma Rae’s
tea room where she and her daughter yelled at each other on the sidewalk. What
was up with those two? If I weren’t so focused on the case at hand, I might do
a bit of nosing around there. Maybe I’d stop at the tea room on my way back
into town. Both women stopped screaming as I passed, and I watched them through
the rearview mirror. Neither of them turned away.

From a side street, a
police cruiser pulled onto the main road. Officer Bradford, no doubt. Well, he
could follow me for the next thirty miles and be the first to catch a glimpse
of my wedding dress. Idiot. With a grin on my face, I circled around, leading
the officer on a winding route to our destination. I might arrive at my fitting
a few minutes later, but I’d feel better about the morning.

When I arrived at the
dress shop, I exited the car and tossed a jaunty wave at Officer Bradford as he
sped by. He must not think my destination was interesting after all. The good
thing about him following me…the killer couldn’t get close enough to cause me
harm.

I pushed through the
double glass doors and approached the counter. A few minutes later, the sales
girl brought me the one dress in the world that made me feel like a princess.
She helped me into the gown, made the minor adjustments with clips, and I was
back behind the wheel of the jeep. After glancing around to see whether I still
had an escort, and not seeing one, I pulled back onto the highway and headed
back to River Valley.

A closed sign on the door
of the tea room kept me continuing to Country Gifts from Heaven. Asking Norma
Rae more questions would have to wait.

I parked in the alley
behind the store. I turned the knob on the back door and pushed. It was locked.
“Mom?” I pounded before peering through the slit of a window.

“Sorry,” she said after
unlocking the door and letting me in. “A person can’t be too careful nowadays.”

“True.” I set my purse in
the cupboard and moved to the front of the store.

Norma Rae stood on the
other side of the counter. In front of her was a cardboard box. “I’ve come to
sell a few things on consignment. These are antique tea cups and saucers. I
believe they’ll catch a good price.”

I glanced in the box and
caught my breath. “They’re exquisite. Are some of them trimmed in real gold?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“But don’t you use these
in your shop?”

“I’m closing the tea
room. There isn’t enough business to make a profit. I know of another way to
make money.”

Mom started setting the
delicate china cups on the counter. “I heard you’d have to move in with your
daughter.”

“I’ll avoid that at all
costs.”

“What is between you two,
if you don’t mind my asking?” I held up a delicate white cup with tiny blue
flowers. “
Y’all’s
relationship seems a bit…strained.
Maybe Mom and I can help. We have a great relationship.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky?”
Norma Rae smirked. “Not everyone gets along with their children. If they did,
we wouldn’t have the amount of child abuse that is so prevalent in our society.
Do you want the cups or not?”

“Definitely.” I set the
one I held with the others. “We keep twenty percent of what they sell for. Have
you had them appraised? If not, we can find someone for you.”

“Just sell them.” Norma
whirled and marched from the store.

“That is one unhappy
woman.” Mom pulled a sheet of paper from under the counter and started
cataloguing the cups. “Did you get a glimpse of her shoes?”

“No, why?” I dashed to
the front door.

“She had on ballet
flats.”

“So, I’m wearing ballet
flats.” I went outside and searched the surrounding area for a footprint.
There, next to a puddle of water was a rapidly drying imprint of a smooth soled
shoe. I rushed back inside. “How did you notice that?”

“Before you arrived, she
sat in the rocker and removed a pebble from her shoe.” Mom grinned. “Am I a
good spy or what?”

“You’re the best!” Now,
what could I do with the information? Bruce would only laugh and tell me Norma
Rae wasn’t the only woman in town wearing those types of shoes. He would be
right. But, since she was already a suspect, maybe he’d pay attention.

I grabbed the phone off
the counter and dialed his private number. “Bruce?”

“Hello, Marsha.”

“Did you know that
Officer Bradford received a call this morning about me being the killer? He
came to the house and practically accused me.”

“He was only checking out
a lead.”

“So, you did know.”

“He called me a few
minutes ago. What do you want? I’m busy.”

I plopped into the
nearest rocking chair. “Are you following a lead?”

“I can’t divulge that
information.”

Yeah,
yeah.
“I have another one for you.”

“Do tell.” His sigh was
so heavy I could almost feel his breath over the phone line.

“Norma Rae
Jenning’s
is wearing shoes that match the print we found.”
I closed my eyes and waited.

“Do you know how many
women in River Valley wear those shoes?
At least twenty.
I’ve been counting. That means nothing. I’ve told you to stay out this, Marsha.
What will it take for you to follow my orders?”

For him to catch the
murderer, but somehow I didn’t think he’d appreciate that answer. “I’m doing my
best—”

Mom grabbed the phone out
of my hand. “Bruce Barnett! Your mother is rolling in her grave right now,
upset at the way you must be talking to my daughter. Yes, I can imagine. I can
see the stricken look on her face. If you’d get off your rear end and catch
this crazy person, Marsha and I wouldn’t have to.” She slammed the receiver on
the hook.

“Stricken, Mom?” Really,
I doubted I had any such look on my face.

“I’m playing the Irish
mom guilt trip,” she said. “Hopefully, it will work.”

I shrugged and moved to
the computer to find an appraiser for the tea cups. Norma Rae wouldn’t make
enough to save her business or even to prevent her from moving in with Ingrid,
but it would be something to offset some of her costs.

The relationship between
the two Jennings women tore at my heart. I glanced at Mom. How would it feel to
dislike your mother so much?
Or for Mom to virtually hate me?
I couldn’t fathom it. Lindsey might cop a teenage attitude sometimes, but the
girl loved me. Of that I had no doubt.

I found a prospective
appraiser and sent an email. Since I had to count out fliers and do some
stapling, Mom grabbed a crocheted table runner and started working. Most of the
time, I did the crafts and she worked the counter, and I deeply appreciated her
willingness to switch roles for the day. I hoped someone slapped me the next
time I volunteered for something while in the middle of a mystery.

Wait. What was I saying?
I would never, ever, get involved in another mystery. My nerves couldn’t take
it. I’d get through the book fair and this investigation and focus on married
life with Duane. Then, the most pressing question that would need answered was
whether I wanted another child or not.

Sometimes, that question
scared me the most.