The Librarian's Last Chapter (9 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“I’m hungry,” Lindsey said. “Can we stop for a burger?”

“I thought you were in
pain.” I turned into the Emergency Room lot.

“Not anymore. It barely
hurts now.”

She must be in shock.
Bruce had kept us waiting too long. I turned off the engine and exited the
jeep. Mom was opening Lindsey’s door before I moved around the vehicle.

“We’re going to have you
checked out anyway,” Mom said, glaring at me. “Your mother has a good swing
when she wants to. You could have a fracture.”

“I said it was an
accident.” I followed them through the emergency room doors. “You would have
done the same.”

“I. Would. Never. Hit. My
child.” With her nose in the air, Mom marched up to the counter.

To prevent her from
opening her mouth and having me arrested for child abuse, I shouldered her
aside. “My daughter needs her shoulder x-rayed.”

“Name.” The woman never
looked up.

Seriously,
the customer service at some places.
“Lindsey Steele.”

“Have a seat in the waiting
room.”

Ten people waited on
green plastic chairs. We’d be here all day. Maybe urgent care would have been a
better idea. We took our seats, Lindsey eyeing the vending machine. I dug in my
purse for some change and handed it over.

“I’ll get it for you, sweetie.”
Mom took the money. “You sit there and rest.”

For
heaven’s sake.
I punched Duane’s number into my phone and got his voice
mail. I left him a message telling him where we were then reclined against the
back of the chair.

Waiting rooms were full
of germs. We’d probably all have the flu by the time we left. “Don’t touch
anything,” I whispered to Lindsey.

“They have hand sanitizer
over there.” She pointed to the front desk. “Relax.”

I fidgeted, eyeing the
other patients. One man looked as if he could die at any minute. His eyes were
closed. A bloody bandage wrapped around his hand. Why was he still sitting
here? The one time I’d been rushed to the hospital for eating a poisonous
cookie, they’d taken me straight back. At least I thought so. I had been a
little out of touch with reality.

Closing my eyes, I leaned
my head back and listened to Mom baby talk my sixteen-year-old. The surprising
thing was that Lindsey allowed her to. I guess the benefit of a grandmother
willing to wait on you hand and foot because your mother tried to kill you was
a good thing.

Lips plastered against
mine. I swung, my fist connecting with Duane’s cheek. “Oh, my gosh! I’m so
sorry.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle
Duane. She’s a bit jumpy lately. Almost killed me at the store.” Lindsey reached
up for a hug from him.

“What?” He sent me a
questioning glance over my daughter’s head.

I sighed. “The store was
broken into and trashed. I had a broom in my hand as a defense in case the
perps
were still in the store. When Lindsey came up behind
me, I reacted without thinking and hit her.” Much like I’d done when Duane
snuck up and kissed me.

He released Lindsey and
grabbed my arm to pull me a few feet to the side. Lowering his voice, he said,
“Are you all right? You’re strung tighter than a guitar string. This mystery is
too much for you.”

“No, I’m fine. It was a
shock seeing the store like that, and well, with all that’s happened this year,
I tend to react before thinking.” The concern in his eyes was almost my
undoing. I’d back out of finding the murderer if I could, but I was in too
deep.

“Lindsey Steele.” A nurse
appeared in a side door.

After planting a quick
kiss on Duane’s lips, I followed the nurse and Lindsey through the door. Mom
scuttled after us.

“I’ll wait out here,”
Duane called.

The nurse led us to a
curtained alcove and proceeded to take Lindsey’s blood pressure. “What are we
seeing you for today?”

“She needs her shoulder
x-rayed,” Mom said. “She was hit with a broomstick.”

“A broomstick?” The nurse
glanced at me.

“It was an accident. She
startled me.” I plopped in the padded vinyl chair beside the bed. “Someone had
just broken into our business.”

The nurse narrowed her
eyes and studied my daughter. “Does your mother make a habit of hitting you?
Don’t be afraid to answer truthfully. You’re in a safe place.”

Good grief. I rested my
elbow on the chair’s arm and plopped my chin in my hand. Now, I’d be labeled an
abusive mother. Add that to my resume.

Lindsey giggled. “No, she
usually just yells.”

“She verbally abuses
you?”

Lindsey’s smile faded.
“No, that’s not what I meant. Really, my life is good. Very good.”

The nurse expelled a
sharp breath out her nose. “If you decide that isn’t the story you want to
stick with, you can call the local police or this clinic for help.” She undid
the blood pressure cuff. “I’ll get the doctor.”

Tears welled in Lindsey’s
eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to—”

“I know, sweetie. The
nurse is only doing her job.” I straightened and waited for the doctor to
arrive with his own myriad of questions.

Thirty minutes later,
clipboard in hand, he shoved aside the curtain. “Lindsey? Let’s take a look at
you shall we? Would you like your mother and grandmother to give us a bit of
privacy?”

“We aren’t going
anywhere, doctor.” Mom crossed her arms. “You’ll only ask her more stupid
questions about being an abused child. Which. She. Is. Not.”

This wasn’t helping. “Do
you want us to leave?” I put a hand on my daughter’s arm.

“No.” Lindsey paled.

The doctor felt around
the area of her shoulder I’d hit, then rotated the arm. “Everything seems fine.
It’s most likely bruised but an x-ray won’t hurt.”

“You can x-ray me if my
mom comes, too.” Lindsey lifted her chin.

That’s my girl.
Loyal to the end.

The doctor sighed. “I
don’t think an x-ray is necessary. I see here you don’t have insurance.” He
peered closer at me. “Weren’t you in here a few months ago?” His eyes widened.
“I recognize you now. You’re the local sleuth.” He shook his head. “It all
makes sense now. I’ll get the release papers together.” He shoved aside the
curtain again and left.

“His bedside manner is
sadly lacking.” Mom peered around the curtain. “I’m thinking that if you’re
going to continue chasing killers, you might want to think about medical
insurance.”

Probably
not a bad idea.
“Who do you think broke into the store? Do you think it
was a warning?”

“I don’t know.” Mom
leaned against the wall. “They didn’t take anything. Not even cash from the
register.”

“Somebody knows we have
the map.” I got up and paced the small cubicle. “They may even think we have
the treasure. Have you told anyone?”

“Not yet. There hasn’t
been time. Besides, Bruce has the original.”

“I don’t think it
matters. Even the copy shows where the supposed treasure is.”

“Hot Springs isn’t
exactly a small town,” Mom said. “That treasure could be anywhere around there.”

There was a definitive X
marking the spot. A hunter would check there first.

Quick footsteps passed on
the other side of the curtain. A voice yelled out for someone to look where
they were going.

Mom peeked around the
curtain again. “Where is that doctor? Oh, here he is.”

“You ladies are free to
go. The shoulder will be bruised for a few days, but ibuprofen should help
alleviate the pain. No more swinging brooms, Mrs. Steele.”

“I’ll do my best.” I
helped Lindsey off the bed, relieved I hadn’t done her serious damage.

Duane was reading a Good
Housekeeping magazine when we joined him in the waiting room. Next to him,
Leroy read over his shoulder. Upon sight of us, Duane dropped the magazine on a
nearby table and stood. “I can’t believe women actually read that kind of
stuff. There wasn’t a single sports story in there.”

I chuckled. “That’s
because women are more interested in recipes, keeping a nice home, and looking
pretty.”

“Everything okay?” He
glanced at Lindsey.

“Yes. She’s bruised, but that
will heal.” I slipped my arm through his. “She’s also craving a burger.”

“Wanda’s Diner?”

“Sounds good. We haven’t
been there in a long time.” Lindsey dashed out the door. My daughter would be
just fine, and my guilt over her injury would also fade.

Several minutes later, we
all met at the diner and slid into a large corner booth. Through the window, I
could see the giant plaster cow that served as a town landmark. That atrocity
loomed over the parking lot for the past thirty years. Having once been a barbecue
place, Wanda hadn’t wanted to tear it down when she bought the place. Said it
added character.

Wanda strolled up to our
table. “Good afternoon. I’m a bit short-handed today. My part-time waitress
burned herself in the kitchen and had to go to the ER. What can I get you
folks?”

“Bacon cheeseburgers all
around,” Leroy said.

“I’m looking for a
part-time job,” Lindsey said.

“Perfect. You take the
job, and today’s burgers are on the house.” Wanda beamed. “Noon to six on
Saturdays and Sundays sound good to you? There might be other times I’ll need
your help, but we can start with those days.”

“I can start tomorrow.”
Lindsey practically bounced in her seat.

“Wonderful. You’re
hired.” Wanda put her order pad in the pocket of her apron and rushed off to
fetch our orders.

Lindsey usually helped
Mom and I at Country Gifts but I wouldn’t take away her joy at having a real
job for anything. She’d still be available for an hour or two each day after
school if we needed her.

“Good job, kid.” Duane
clapped her on her shoulder. She winced. He grimaced and apologized.

“I wonder who got
burned?” Mom glanced toward the kitchen. “I haven’t heard of any new help here
at the diner.”

“That Jennings girl,”
Leroy said. “The one who also works at the
station.
I
heard she works here on the weekends.”

“Whatever for?”

He shrugged. “I guess she
needs the money.”

Wanda arrived with iced
teas all around. “Food will be ready in about ten minutes.”

“Is your help Ingrid
Jennings?” Mom asked.

“Yep. I don’t like to
talk bad about people,” Wanda said. “
but
she’s a
sullen gal. I’ll probably fire her now that Lindsey’s here. I’ll give her a few
more days to change her attitude. If that doesn’t happen, I’m giving her the
boot. I don’t care if she’ll have to live with her mother or not.”

The wheels in my head
were spinning faster than a Tilt-A-Whirl. I sipped my sweet tea and stared out
the window.

On the sidewalk outside,
Mr. Dean and Mrs. Willis appeared to be in a heated discussion. He stood with
his hands deep in his pockets, while her arms flailed with each word. I’d never
seen the English teacher so animated. The scene was better than any television
drama and served to pull me away from the financial problems of the Jennings.
By the time our food arrived, they’d stalked off in opposite directions.

Full from lunch and ready
for a relaxing afternoon, I drove home, minus my daughter who decided to stay
and observe Wanda. Mom would be home after running errands with Leroy and Duane
headed back to the high school.

I pulled the jeep into
the driveway and was greeted by Cleopatra. I patted her head. “Who let you out
of the backyard?” If Lindsey left the gate open, we’d have some words when she
got home. “Come on, girl.”

She followed me up the
porch and into a house as trashed as the store.

CHAPTER SEVENTEN

After a sleepless weekend and time spent listening to Bruce
warn me about an arrest again, the ringing of my cell phone on my nightstand
was not a welcome sound. I groped for it, knocking it to the floor, thus having
to get mostly out of bed to retrieve it. “Hello? This better be good.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll
think it is,” Lynn said. “How soon can you be at the school? My prep time is in
fifteen minutes.”

“What is it?” I scooted
to a sitting position against the headboard.

“I’ve got a copy of Mrs.
Willis’s manuscript. Believe me, you want to see this.”

“I’m leaving now.” I hung
up, yanked on a pair of jeans under the large
tee-shirt
I wore to bed, and then slipped my feet into flats. Grabbing my purse, I was
out of the house in less than five minutes.

I made it to the school
five minutes before Lynn’s prep time. The bell rang and thirty high school
students barged from her class, allowing me to slip into her room. “How did you
get it?”

“Hello to you, too.” Lynn
moved to a filing cabinet and pulled out a thick stack of paper. “My school
laptop crashed and I had to get a new one. Seems like Estelle had the same
problem a week or so ago. When they fixed hers, they forgot to wipe the drive
clean. I ended up with her old one, and voila!
A copy of her
murder mystery.
I’ve highlighted the spots I think you might be
interested in.” She handed the stack to me.

I sat at one of the desks
and riffled through the pages. The first highlighted spot was about the victim,
an elderly woman, being killed with a silk scarf. I glanced up at Lynn. She
motioned for me to continue. Farther on in the story, another victim died of a
stab wound in the heart. My heart thudded like the high school marching band
drummer.

“This is huge.”

Lynn grinned. “I thought
so.”

“I saw Mr. Dean and Mrs.
Willis arguing yesterday outside of Wanda’s Diner. Do you know what about?” I
stacked the manuscript back into a neat pile. I’d take it to Bruce at the first
opportunity.

“Probably because she
wants out of her contract.” Lynn sat back at her desk. “She’s convinced her
novel will be a bestseller and says she can’t write and promote while working a
day job. She’ll really leave the senior students in a bind if she quits.”

I could see where that
would upset him, but there really wasn’t anything he could do if she was
willing to pay the fee for opting out of her contract. “Can I take this with
me? I think Bruce should have it.”

“Sure.” Lynn laughed. “I
have a copy on my laptop. It’s not a bad read, really.”

Maybe not, but the
closeness of her story to what was happening in River Valley was too much of a
coincidence to me. It seemed as if the woman might be killing people in the
name of research.

I shoved the stack of
papers in my purse and headed to the library. Since I was at the school, I
might as well check on the progress of the book fair. It was only a little over
a week away. There were more fliers to count and pass out, suggested
decorations to
pour
over, and Mrs. Grimes’s antique
books still sat on the desk. What in the world was I to do with them?

I found an empty box in
the back storeroom and stacked the books inside. Hefting the heavy load, I
staggered to Mr. Dean’s office and plopped the load on his desk. “These are
some of Mrs. Grimes’s personal belongings. I have no idea what to do with them.”

“And you think I do?” He
leaned back in his chair.

“I know the two of you
had a relationship at one time. You’re the closest thing to family I can find.
Do with them what you will.” I turned to go.

“How did you find out?”
His eyes clouded with pain.

I glanced over my
shoulder. “Secrets aren’t really secrets in a school, Mr. Dean.” I left his
office and approached Cheryl’s desk. I was still curious about why she’d come
to the store on Saturday morning, only to leave without saying a word.

“Was there something you
needed?” I tilted my head. “Surely you noticed the destruction of my store, yet
you pranced on by as if everything were normal.”

She paled. “There wasn’t
anything I could do other than get in the way.” She handed me a sheet of paper.
“Here is a list of everything for the fair. All that is needed is the tunnel to
be built. Norma Rae has said she will even dress up as a knife wielding maniac.
The other members of the book club will run the actual book sales. Will there
be anything else?”

I shook my head. “I’ll
get Leroy started on building the tunnel this weekend. Could you put the word
out that we’ll need a last minute meeting on Friday? Six o’clock in the
library?”

“Will do.” She turned and
grabbed her phone.

Effectively dismissed, I
headed back to the library as a swarm of students entered the doors. A young
woman who looked fresh out of college sat behind the desk. She introduced
herself as the long-term substitute. I grabbed my purse and told her to call me
if she needed the book fair crates moved or she could feel free to have some of
the students shove them in a corner.

Still in a tiff that I
had no excuse for, I rushed back to the parking lot. My poor attitude shamed
me. Sure I was suffering from lack of sleep, but it gave me no reason to purposely
antagonize people. The very people who might already want to kill me.

Behind the wheel of my
jeep, I closed my eyes and prayed for peace. God was the only one who could
settle my nerves and steady my mind. Duane was right. This case was too much
for me. I’d give anything to be able to back out of my impulsive decision to
continue with the book fair and solve the murder.

The prayer helped a
little, but my eyelids felt heavy and sandy. Stressed out or not, I needed my
cup of coffee before heading to the store. I drove to the coffee shop. I exited
the jeep as Norma Rae was unlocking the front door to her tea shop down the
street. I switched direction.

“Norma Rae!” I jogged to
her side.

She frowned. “Yeah?”

“I heard Ingrid was
injured yesterday. How is she?”

“Back at work at the
station. She’s fine.” Norma Rae pushed open the door. “Needs to pay more
attention to her surroundings is all. Did you need something? We aren’t open
yet.”

The chill coming off her
would freeze a southern lake. “No, just checking on Ingrid. Thanks for offering
to help with the haunted tunnel.”

“It’ll be a blast.” She
grinned, the smile lacking warmth. I shuddered. Goose pimples broke out on my
arms, and I hurried back to the coffee shop feeling as if I’d narrowly escaped
the teeth of a shark.

Once I’d purchased my
frozen mocha drink, I drove to the police station. Ingrid sat behind the
counter, a white bandage around her left hand. “That looks painful.”

“Not too bad. Are you
here to see Bruce?”

“Yes, please.” I wanted
to get into a conversation with her, but how do you dig up someone’s financial
woes without hurting their feelings? I sipped my drink and avoided eye contact,
which wasn’t hard since she pretty much ignored me after telling Bruce I was
there. After a few minutes, she told me to go on back.

“You can get into your
shop today,” Bruce said.

“Great! But that isn’t
why I’m here.” I pulled the manuscript from my purse. “I managed to get my
hands on a book written by Mrs. Estelle Willis. I think you’ll be as interested
in the highlighted areas as I am.”

“I don’t read.”

Doesn’t or can’t? I
smirked. “You’ll want to read this.”

He groaned and flipped
through the pages. “Where did you get this?”

“I can’t divulge my
sources, but it’s pretty interesting wouldn’t you say?” I wiggled my eyebrows.
“You can now add another suspect to your list.”

“She’s already a suspect
because she worked with the victim.” As if realizing he’d said too much, Bruce
dropped the manuscript into a drawer. “Anything else?”

“I’d like to request a
police presence at the harvest festival.”

“Afraid someone will try
to kill you?”

Yes. “There will be a lot
of people there. Having the police in view will help prevent some of the
shenanigans.”

“We’d already planned on
being there. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m busy trying to find a killer.”

“Any ideas on who trashed
my home and work place?”

“Not yet, but the way you
anger people, it could be anyone.”

Very
funny.
I left his office and called Mom on the way to my jeep to let her
know we were allowed back into the shop. She said she’d meet me there in
fifteen minutes to start cleaning.

I pulled into the alley
behind the shop and stared at the back door. After the last fiasco, I was a bit
apprehensive. I pulled my Taser out of my purse and kept it clutched tightly in
my hand as I entered the store. Everything looked to be in the same sad state
as on Saturday. Now that I wasn’t feeling as if I’d permanently injured my
daughter, tears filled my eyes at the destruction.

I shook out a quilt.
Slivers of glass rained to the floor. None of the quilts or
afghans
could be sold until they were washed. The last thing we wanted was for someone
to be cut. I stacked all the fabric goods on the counter,
then
started gathering anything else that was still in good condition. Everything
glass was shattered on the floor in a rainbow of colors.

Grabbing the broom, I
swept the shards into a pile as Mom marched into the room. “I’ve got most of
it, if you want to start washing those things.”

“Why are you crying?”

“I feel violated. Someone
only suspects we have something they want and they’re willing to ruin our
belongings in order to find it.
First here, then the house.
Is nowhere sacred?” Why wouldn’t the personal responsible confront me and get
it over with?

“They let Cleopatra out
of the back yard and locked up the cats in the bathroom. I could have lost my
dog.” I sniffed.

“At least they haven’t
started shooting at you.” Mom took the broom from me. “Go sit down for a
minute. I’ll finish up.”

“No, I need to stay
busy.”

“Marsha, you’re on your
last nerve. Sit down and drink your fancy coffee for fifteen minutes. Get a
hold of yourself. There’s plenty of work to be done.”

I nodded. She was right.
Once everything was cleaned up, maybe I wouldn’t feel so assaulted. I sat in a
rocking chair. “We need a security system.”

“Leroy already has an
appointment to have one installed here and at the house.”

What a special man my
mother had married. Almost as wonderful as the one I’d soon be wed to. I sipped
my drink and rocked, turning again to prayer to calm me. A few minutes later,
peace washed over me and I moved to help Mom restock the shelves with what we
could. I flipped the sign on the window to open and propped the plywood covered
door wide.

We could do this. Reopen,
continue living, and catch a killer with no respect for life or property. The
continue living was my favorite part.