The Librarian's Last Chapter (11 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Who was the crazy person that scheduled the book club and
the PTO meeting on the same night? The club meeting is scheduled for six and
the PTO for seven. I shoved a handful of M&Ms into my mouth. With all the
stress swirling around me, and my tendency to turn to chocolate, I’d be lucky
to fit into my wedding dress in two months.

To compensate, I skipped
supper since Lindsey was studying at a friend’s house anyway and rushed to the
cottage to fetch Mom. I wasn’t facing the
Piranhas
alone.

She met me in the yard.
“I’m coming. Can’t a girl get a bite to eat before rushing out the door? It
isn’t good for the digestion.”

“We’ve a full schedule
tonight.” I hurried to my jeep. Mom opened her Cadillac. I sighed and joined
her. I had no energy to argue with her about who was driving.

I slid into the passenger
seat and buckled my seatbelt. Mom had a tendency to treat her car as if she
were driving in a NASCAR race.

“Relax.” She turned the
key in the ignition. “I’ll get us there in one piece.”

We arrived at the church
for the book club meeting ten minutes late, despite Mom’s speedy driving. She
slammed on the brakes in front of the fellowship hall and we sprinted inside.
Estelle was new face in the group. She glanced up and gave a snide smile. In
front of each seat was a pile of papers. Her manuscript.

“The book club has
decided to give me valuable feedback,” she said. “Since you somehow already
read it, I guess you don’t need a fresh copy.”

I rolled my eyes and took
a seat as far from her as I could, which wasn’t far considering we sat at a
round table. “Mom hasn’t read it.”

Estelle handed Mom a
copy. “How is your book coming, Marsha?” She glanced around the group. “Did you
ladies know she was writing one of her own?”

I’d forgotten the little
white lie I’d told. All eyes turned in my direction.

“What’s your book about,
Marsha?” Cheryl asked. “If we would have known, we could have brainstormed with
you.”

“I, uh, thought I’d write
about the mysteries I’ve been involved in. Make it a series of sorts.” Good
grief. I couldn’t write a book to save my life.

“Well, don’t use
Harriet’s death.” Estelle tapped the manuscript in front of her. “I’ve already
used it.”

Tears welled in Cheryl’s
eyes. “Somehow that seems so disrespectful to our dear friend.”

“She was no friend of
mine,” Estelle said. “I have no qualms writing about her death.”

I’m sure she didn’t, the
evil witch.

“Well,” Norma Rae crossed
her arms and glowered across the table at Ingrid. “If anyone wants to know what
it feels like to want to kill someone, just ask me. I’ll be a great research
source.”

“Oh, stuff it, Mother.”
Ingrid grabbed her purse. “This club is a ridiculous waste of time. Consider me
resigned.” She marched out the door without a backward glance.

Norma Rae pointed at the
door. “See my point? The girl is hopeless.”

“If you weren’t so mean
to her, she might not be.” Mom straightened her shoulders. “I would never dream
of talking to Marsha the way you talk to Ingrid.”

“You don’t know a thing
about it, you Nosey Nellie!” Norma Rae shoved back her chair. “You and your
perfect little life. And you, Estelle, can shove your stupid book where the sun
doesn’t shine!” She stormed out of the room.

“Well!” Estelle gathered
up the copies of her manuscript. “If this is how you ladies run this book club,
I want nothing to do with any of it. I have another meeting to attend anyway.”
She followed the other two, leaving me, Mom, and Cheryl staring at each other.

“I guess the meeting is
adjourned.” Cheryl picked up her purse from the floor at her feet.

“Sweetie,” Mom said. “I’d
say the club is disbanded.”

Cheryl shrugged. “Well, I
have a lot on my plate right now. It’s just as well. See the two of you at the
PTSO meeting.”

Why did I keep forgetting
they’d added the S into the PTO? “Mom, I’m starving. Can we grab a burger
before heading to the school?”

“Sure thing.” We left the
building, turning the lights off behind us.

What a strange twenty
minutes. I couldn’t say I’d miss the club since I only joined to try and dig up
information on Mrs. Grimes’s death, but it was an interesting time for sure. I
thanked God for relieving the item from my stress-filled plate and got into
Mom’s boat of a car.

After stopping for a
burger and fries, we arrived at the school a few minutes early. I carried my
supper into the library with me. I sighed. The new librarian had already set up
the book fair tables and books. No decorations were threaded throughout the
items for sale. Nothing showed that there would be a carnival of sorts in a few
days. I still had a lot of work ahead of me.

The attendees for
tonight’s meeting were small, consisting of me and Mom, Mr. Dean, Cheryl,
Estelle, and the
Snyders
. I supposed that Sarah
Boatwright no longer wanted to attend due to being fired as office manager. To
my surprise and delight, Duane waltzed in moments after Mom and me.

I grinned and motioned to
the seat next to me. “This is a surprise.”

“I figured since this
meeting is about the fair, I might as well attend and let everyone know how the
main attraction is progressing.” He glanced around the room. “I thought there’d
be some decorations in here.”

“I guess that’s up to
me.”

“I’ll handle this,” Mom
said. “I’ve plenty of plastic pumpkins and greenery to spruce this place up
before the big night.”

“We’ve already had a few
sales,” Cheryl said. “If everyone will take their seats, we can get started.
The sooner we do, the sooner everyone can head home.”

Sounded good to me. I
gave her my utmost attention.

“First up,” Cheryl
glanced at her notes, “is Marsha Steele. Marsha, please fill us in on the
progress.”

I hadn’t known I’d have
to speak. My mouth filled with cotton. “Well, everything is looking good. All
jobs are filled, fliers in teacher’s boxes, and Duane is working on the tunnel
along with my stepfather, Leroy
Bohan
. We have plenty
of student council members to work the haunted tunnel and each class is doing a
booth of some kind. I’m confident it will be a wonderful night for the school.”
I exhaled sharply and sat back in my seat.

“Coach? How is the tunnel
coming along?” Cheryl motioned for Duane to speak.

“It’s almost ready. We’ll
set it up the night before, and Officer Barnett has promised police coverage
for the night.”

Cheryl’s eyes widened.
“Is that necessary?”

“We don’t want any
students goofing off any more than usual,” Duane said. “It’s only a precaution.
There will be a lot going on that night. Extra eyes will be appreciated. I’ve
also commissioned the football team to help with clean up.”

“That’s wonderful.”
Cheryl cast him an appreciative look. “I don’t think we’ve thought of clean
up.” She frowned at me.

Hey, I didn’t ask for all
the responsibility.
Only some of it.

“Mr. Dean, do you have
anything to add?” Cheryl asked.

He raised red-rimmed
eyes. “No. Look’s like it’s all taken care of. You’ve done a good job.”

She beamed under his
praise. Estelle huffed. Surely the elderly teacher wasn’t jealous of Cheryl?
She was young enough to be Mr. Dean’s daughter.

A closer watch of the
wanna
-be author might be in store.
Especially
if Cheryl appeared to be in any trouble.
We didn’t need any more deaths
in the name of research.

Mom dropped a pencil and
spent a lot of time under the table looking for it. I yanked on her shirt tail.
“What are you doing?”

“Looking at people’s
shoes. Why else would I bother coming to this meeting if not to squeeze in some
sleuthing.”

“Well?”

“Cheryl is wearing flats,
but I can’t see the soles.
Same with Estelle and Janet
Snyder.
What happened to women wearing heels?”

“Flats are in style and
more comfortable.” I studied the
Snyders
. They’d
remained quiet during the entire meeting so far and if their body language was
any indication, the two were having a silent dispute. I didn’t really consider
either of them a major suspect, though, so left them to their disagreement.

When the meeting’s agenda
moved away from the fair, I mulled over my two main suspects…Norma Rae and
Estelle. I found it hard to believe that either of them could kill a young,
strong woman like Stacy, but I couldn’t rule out the possibility.

Norma Rae carried a lot
of anger inside her skinny body, while Estelle seemed focused on getting her
book published no matter what. I might be grasping at straws, but they seemed
the most likely ones to have killed Mrs. Grimes.
In my mind
at least.
I just needed that elusive concrete evidence.

“A penny for your
thoughts.” Duane’s breath tickled my ear.

“Rounding up suspects.”

“I figured as much. Who
do you suspect?”

“Norma Rae Jennings and
Estelle Willis.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Let’s
get out of here while you tell me why. Maybe I can shed some light over ice
cream.”

I whispered to Mom that
we were leaving and the three of us slipped out of the meeting like fugitives.
Mom and I followed Duane to the local Dairy Queen and sat in the booth we’d sat
in shortly after Duane’s arrival back in River Valley. Had that really been
less than a year? We’d sat in that very booth and watched out the window while
a killer stalked my daughter.

While we waited for our
ice cream, I filled Duane in on why I’d chosen those two ladies as my main
suspects.

“It does seem suspicious
that Estelle knows so much about the murders,” he said. “But that doesn’t make
her a killer. Norma Rae, well, I don’t know enough about her to make a
judgment. She does seem very unhappy.”

“Could you maybe use your
charm on Ingrid and find out why she and her mother hate each other so much?”

“My charm?”

“Yeah. Ingrid seems
lonely. Attention from a handsome man—”

“You want to pimp me
out?” A dimple winked from beside his mouth.

“That’s a great idea,”
Mom said. “I’d have Leroy do it, but you’re more Ingrid’s age.”

Duane laughed. “You two
beat all, you know that? I am not going to flirt with a woman just to garner
information from her.”

“Why not?” I called after
him as he moved to get our ice cream. “It happens all the time in one way or
another.”
At least in the movies.
Why wouldn’t it work
in real life?

He slid back into the
booth. “I can’t start talking to a woman I’ve never officially met and dig for
information. It won’t work. I’ll focus on Estelle. We have the same lunch
time.”

I’d take what help I
could get. “Just don’t be alone with her. If she is the killer…I don’t want to
lose you.”

“I think I can handle a
sixty-year-old woman.”

I took a bite of my
sundae. I felt pretty good about having narrowed my suspect list down to two.
Hopefully, the right two.
If only Bruce would be more
forthcoming with his own information. Supposedly, he’d been actively
investigating the case. I was sure he was having help from the marshal’s
office. After all, there were two victims now.

Somehow, I needed to find
out what he knew. The only person that could possibly get me the information
didn’t seem to like me much. Still, I’d pay Ingrid a visit and invite her to
lunch.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Good morning, Ingrid.” I leaned over the receptionist desk
at the police station. “How’s the hand?”

She glared at me over her
glasses. “Officer Barnett isn’t in, and the hand is fine, thank you.”

“I’m actually here to see
you.” How did someone ask someone to lunch who clearly disliked the person
doing the asking?

“Oh, really?” She
straightened in her chair and crossed her arms. “Want more information on mine
and mom’s storming out of the book club? Or is there something more sinister on
your mind?”

“Why would I have
something sinister on my mind?” Really. The woman didn’t know me well enough to
make such an assumption.

She gave a sinister
smile. “Are you digging for any information I might have overheard regarding
the death of Mrs. Grimes and Miss Tate?”

“Possibly.” I grinned.
“Are you up to it?”

She shrugged. “Sure, I’ll
bite.” She grabbed her purse. “The fact that Mother will be livid at finding
out I had lunch with you is enough to make the idea sound good to me. Let’s
go.”

If Ingrid wanted our
lunch date to be common knowledge, there was no better place than Wanda’s
Diner. We strolled in like best
friends,
arms linked
together, and took a booth in the back. Wanda raised eyebrows at the sight of
us and several other customers took second glances. What in the world was so
strange about us eating together?

“Is your mother talking
about me?” I asked the moment we sat and had menus in front of us. “We seem to
be attracting more attention than I thought we would.”

“She’s complaining about
you all over town.” Ingrid smiled more at that statement than the whole time
I’d known her. Actually, it might be the only time I’ve seen her smile.

I squirmed in my seat.
Maybe having lunch with her wasn’t such a good idea. But what could possibly go
wrong in a crowded diner? Any sinister business and Wanda would be on the phone
with Bruce in an instant.

“What is she saying?” I
folded my menu and set it aside, deciding on a salad.

“That you’re harassing
her, slandering her good name, turning people away from her tea shop.” As I
opened my mouth to protest, she held up a hand. “I know you aren’t doing those
things, but Mother is upset at having to live with me. I have to admit to a
certain amount of misgiving at the idea myself. In case you haven’t noticed, we
don’t exactly get along. But, I’ve found a way out of my predicament.”

Lindsey approached to
take our orders, a questioning look blanketing her face. “May I take your
orders?”

“Why aren’t you in
school? This job takes second place, young lady.”

“It’s early release day
so Wanda said I could come in early. Seriously, Mom, you need to pay better
attention to my schedule.” Her pencil poised over her order pad.

“Sorry. I’ll take the
chef’s salad, ranch dressing, please.”

“I’ll have the same.”
Ingrid handed Lindsey our menus. “Lovely girl,” she said, after Lindsey left.
“You’re lucky to have such a good relationship with her.” Sadness clouded her
eyes. “So, what is it you want to know?”

“Does Bruce have any
suspects?” I pulled a small spiral notebook out of my purse and fished for a
pen.

“Of course he does. The
man is brilliant in his field.”

Uh-oh. “You have a crush
on him?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m
marrying Officer Wilson.”

“But he’s old enough to
be your father.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Sorry.”

“He’s good to me. That’s
all that matters.”

“That’s your plan to
escape living with your mother?”

“Yes.” She grinned again.
“Oscar has already agreed not to give in to her complaints.”

Wow. The world was full
of surprises. “Do you know who the suspects are?”

She glanced around the
room. “The book club members, the PTSO, you.”

“Me? Bruce knows me
better than that. We’ve known each other since Kindergarten.”

“But Officer Bradford
hasn’t. He says he doesn’t trust you. That maybe you enjoy the notoriety of
solving crimes before the police.”

“That doesn’t make any
sense. If I killed in order to solve the crime, I’d have to accuse myself.” The
man might be handsome, but he was clearly an idiot.

“I’m just telling you
what he says. Of course, Officer Barnett is too clever to believe him.” She
waited until Lindsey brought us our salads and left before continuing. “A word
of warning, dear Marsha…if you don’t stop nosing around, Officer Barnett is
going to arrest you.”

“He’s said that before.”

“I think he’s serious
this time.”

I stabbed a piece of
hard-boiled egg with my fork. “Have you heard anything else? Anything that will
help me, or the police, put a stop to these murders? Maybe you’ve heard
something that didn’t mean much at the time you heard it. Maybe something about
the footprint found outside my shop?”

She sat in thought for a
moment, her face paling. “No, can’t say as I have.”

She was lying. I knew it
as sure as the salad in front of me. I forked a cherry tomato into my mouth. I
could ask her what she knew, but since she didn’t volunteer the information,
even going as far as saying she didn’t know anything, I doubted I’d get any
more out of her. We sat in silence, the clank of our silverware against the
plates seeming to echo. On pretense of studying her shoes, I dropped my napkin.
There was no way her size tens made the print. I was no closer to new clues
than I was that morning.

After we finished eating,
I paid the bill, left Lindsey a five dollar tip, and followed Ingrid back to my
jeep. I pulled in front of the police station. “Thank you for joining me.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more
help.”

“That’s all right. It was
worth a shot.”

“I hope we can do this again
sometime.” She opened the door. “I don’t have many friends, thanks to my
mother.”

“Sure, we can.”

“And, Marsha.” She
stepped outside and closed the door, sticking her head back through the open
window. “Please be careful. The person you’re dealing with is evil
personified.” With those encouraging words, she marched into the building.

She did know who the
killer was! I sped to Country Gifts from Heaven. I couldn’t wait to share the
news with Mom.

When I arrived, the store
was full of customers buying fall themed decorations. I kept busy restocking
shelves as items were purchased, all the while impatient for them to leave.
From the back of the store came the excited chatter of the craft group. I’d
forgotten they’d booked the room that day. No matter. They often had valuable
input.

After the rush of
customers had subsided, I sat at the crafting table where the women were making
Thanksgiving centerpieces for the retirement home. The talent of the ladies
never failed to astound me. Maybe Mom and I should make a few to sell in the
store.

“Ladies, I need your
help.”

As one they set down
their work and stared. “Let’s have it,” Betty said.

I told them of my lunch
with Ingrid and her peculiar behavior when I mentioned the footprint. “I’m
certain she knows who the killer is.”

“It sure seems like it,”
Dottie said. “But that quiet girl will never tell. She’d never put herself in
jeopardy the way you do.”

“Did y’all know she’s
marrying Officer Wilson?” I poked loose needles into a pincushion.

“Well, he isn’t the
murderer,” Betty said. The three Bates sisters nodded. “He has no motive.”

True. I rubbed the
beginning of a headache from my temples. “Do you think it’s the new officer?”

“Bradford?” Mom shook her
head, leaning against the counter. “I doubt it, although the man is a nuisance.
Came into the store again this morning to talk to you. I told him I’d pass on
the information. There. I did. What you do with it is up to you. Oh, and I
found a buyer for Norma Rae’s tea cups.
A thousand dollars
for the lot.
A nice little profit.
Norma Rae
should be here any time for her check.”

“How’s the fair coming
along?” Betty asked. “Aren’t you afraid of having a lot of folks in scary
costumes considering all that is going on?”

“I’ve considered the
danger.” More than I’d like to, if I were honest. The fact I’d have to stick
close to the haunted tunnel in order to make sure things ran smoothly terrified
me. I still couldn’t get the image of someone with a real knife chasing me out
of my head. The only consolation was that Duane would be a part of things and
that Bruce and the other officers would be on hand. Of course, if Officer
Bradford thought me the guilty party, he might not be too inclined to protect
me. Maybe, his suspicions about me would keep him close.

“Hello?” Norma Rae peered
around the corner. “What’s this? Doesn’t anyone work around here anymore?”

“This is a craft group,”
Betty explained. “And we’re all amateur detectives. We’re helping Marsha find a
killer. We don’t have time for nonsense.”

I cringed. Betty had just
told a prime suspect that we were brainstorming the murders. “I’ll help you,
Norma Rae.” I leaped from my chair and followed her back to the front of the
store. “We owe you eight hundred dollars. Not a bad little profit for you.”

“Not nearly enough.” She
placed her purse on the counter, the bag making a clunk against the Formica
top. “I heard you had lunch with Ingrid today. I’m warning you to stay out of
my business, Marsha. I’m not afraid of filing a complaint against you.”

“There’s nothing against
the law about having lunch with a friend.” I pulled the checkbook from the
counter safe.

“Ingrid doesn’t have any
friends, and she doesn’t need any like you.”

“She’s an adult. She can
make up her own mind about who she makes friends with.” I should have let
mother wait on the woman. I wrote out the check, ripped it from the book, and
then slid it across the counter to her. “Have a good day.”

“This isn’t over. Not by
a long shot.” She snatched the check and marched from the store.

How could someone be so
unhappy? I sent a prayer heavenward for the woman and joined the others again.

“I’m sorry.” Tears
shimmered in Betty’s eyes. “Gertie told me that she was one of your suspects,
and I’ve gone and opened my big mouth.”

“It’s all right.” The
fair started tomorrow night. Things could very well be over soon. Either the
killer would get me or I’d get them. Either way, there would be no more
sleepless nights or watching my rearview mirror every time I drove somewhere.

Soon, the women gathered
up their supplies and left. Mom and I cleaned up the store and headed out, her
to fix Leroy his supper, and me to the school to oversee the setting up of the
fair exhibits.

I sent Duane a text when
I’d arrived at the football field and he met me in the parking lot. “The
skeleton of the tunnel is set up from the side of the snack bar all the way to
the side entrance of the library. It will take the students a good ten to
fifteen minutes to walk through it. Less if they run.” He grinned and put an
arm around my shoulder. “Leroy did a great job building it. We’ve hung the
black lights inside and are now covering it with the black plastic sheeting.
You had a good idea, sweetheart. That’s all the kids have been talking about
all day.”

I stopped and stared at
the winding tunnel. It strongly resembled a giant anaconda. As long as it
didn’t swallow anyone whole, we’d all be okay.