We were friends ever since that day. At least, I thought we were. Having spent a lot of time together since then, I trusted her. Bree was chatty and cheerful, but now that I thought about it, perhaps that was all empty chatter. The weather, the library patrons, the latest books we read. I didn't actually know very much about her at all.
No, that isn’t exactly true. I did know a few things. Bree's parents passed away when she was just a teenager and there was a brother still living somewhere. She had grown up in a large city but was it Syracuse or Salt Lake City or Seattle? I couldn't remember. She had some experience working in bookshops but never a library until I hired her. She liked reading fiction and soon borrowed a number of romances, claiming they were her secret indulgence. She wasn't very drawn to the non-fiction section but told me it was time to put it to good use. She chose to make it her special project and spent a lot of her spare time trying to make that section more interesting and appealing by creating pretty displays in the waist-high glass-topped display cabinets dotted all around the library. The local kids loved her when she put on silly voices and had no shame in prancing around and pretending to be a dinosaur or an alien during storytime.
It wasn't just the kids either. Everyone seemed to like Bree. She easily remembered their names and the books they liked, as well as previous conversations. She was always making people feel welcome.
We went out socially a few times and Bree had an easy-going way about her that prompted people to talk to her while she simply listened. She had a unique talent for listening, I suppose, that ensured Bree never really had to say anything. I tried to recall a single time when Bree mentioned she was going out with anyone else, be they friends or a date, but I couldn't think of any at all.
The tea kettle whistled, startling me, and I switched off the stove. I had to force myself to breath steadily and more deeply, knowing that only time could settle my nerves. Time and learning the truth of what happened to my friend.
I lifted the kettle off the stove and poured the boiling water into my cup, adding a tea bag and sugar. I let it steep while I warmed my hands on the outside. Inside, however, my tears filled my eyelids and threatened to spill over.
I couldn't stop thinking about a very important question that dominated all the other thoughts in my mind. Why would anyone want to kill Bree?
Chapter Three
My mornings usually started off simply with a routine I created years ago. After getting up, I made my bed and plumped the pillows, took a shower, and dressed in the clothes I dutifully laid out the evening before. I ate quickly, standing up in my kitchen, before walking to the library. It was partly for the exercise and also because it would have taken me more time to back my car out of the driveway, drive there, and park again, than it did to walk. It was an easy, uncomplicated routine that I always enjoyed.
Over the past month, I even managed to allow myself a brief sleep-in since Bree would already have opened the library. By the time I got there, Bree would also have already switched on the lights, and the heating would have kicked in. A pot of coffee would be warming in our little side room that doubled as an office and break room. We looked after the patrons, prepared for or carried out the events on the schedule, and worked as a tag-team for lunch if it was very busy, or ate together when it was quiet. Afterwards, if necessary, I would pick up my car and run some books over to the Senior Center and performed any number of tasks that involved leaving my desk, dropping my car off at home, and returning in time for Bree to leave early.
Throughout the night, I kept worrying that Bree only stayed late yesterday to help me with storytime and I wondered if it somehow contributed to her death. Rationally, however, I knew it couldn't have. The children had all gone home and I thought Bree left too.
Today was unlike my usual routine. After drifting off into a fitful sleep in the early hours, I awoke but still felt very tired. The library was closed, surrounded by crime scene police tape when I walked past. Naturally, I was unable to resist the urge to check up on the old building. Now I was at the police station and facing Detective Logan from across his desk. He called, asking me to come in and I promptly raced down there, hoping he had some news.
"I don't understand. Why would anyone kill Bree? She was such a nice person," I said.
Detective Logan let his pen hover above his notepad. "That's what we're trying to determine, ma'am."
"Do the members of her family know?" I asked, ignoring that he called me ma'am like he barely knew me. Sam Logan was several years older than me, and although we never shared the same social circle, I was sure he knew what my name was. He used it only last night. I figured he was trying to be very professional, a hard challenge when you've grown up knowing everyone else in town and they you. I wondered if that small town vibe was partly why he hadn't returned for so long after finishing college.
"We were hoping you could help us with that."
"I'm sorry. I don't know them. Bree's family never came to the library, not as far as I knew and they don't live in Calendar."
"Do you know where Bree came from?"
I opened my mouth to answer before I realized I didn't know that either. It was just like a whole bunch of questions I asked myself last night. Bree never said where she came from. It was almost like she deliberately mentioned a lot of different places to confuse me. "I don't know," I said, wincing at how inadequate I sounded.
"Do you know any of the names of the people in her family?"
Aside from Mom and Dad? I wanted to ask. Instead, I simply shook my head. "Perhaps there's an address and phone number book at her apartment? I think she has a brother." I tried to recall his name but couldn't grasp one. I was sure, however, that she had mentioned a brother.
"We searched her apartment last night and didn't find anything. No names, no phone numbers, not even a home phone line."
"That's strange. Are you sure there wasn't an address book stashed somewhere?"
"We searched everywhere," Detective Logan said, sounding exasperated.
"What about her cellphone?"
"No sign of it on the body, or at her home. It's been switched off."
"Do you think the killer might have taken it?" I asked. When he said “the body,” I instantly felt sick. Surely Bree wouldn't have been killed for a phone? "It was an older model, nothing fancy or expensive, just a plain, old, not-very-smart phone. Bree barely even used it. I doubt it was worth too much."
"Regardless, we have to assume the killer took it."
I wondered whom he meant by "we.” Everyone in Calendar knew that Detective Logan did most of the work that was reported to the police station. His senior officer was only months away from retirement although the generally relaxed attitude began several years ago. The senior officer was more than happy to hand over the workload to Logan. Usually, there wasn't too much crime in Calendar. Logan could handle whatever came up, but every so often, he looked like he'd barely slept.
"Then you can trace it!" I exclaimed. "I know they do that on all the cop shows. It could lead you right to the killer!" Finally, a true spark of positivity rose in me, one which the detective quickly dashed. It was delivered with the same kind of patient face I reserved for the really irritating customers at the library.
"We're on it," he assured me. "I know you were in shock yesterday but I hope you had some time to think and try to remember. What else can you tell me about Bree?"
"She hadn't worked for the library very long but she was lovely. Always so nice to the customers. She was never late and she never took advantage of her lunch breaks. She was always clean and tidy..." I trailed off at seeing the detective's disappointed face. "That wasn't what you were looking for," I finished, observing his indifference to Bree's attention to punctuality.
"Do you actually know anything about her?" he asked.
I pulled a face. "U-h-h..."
"Like where she grew up, or went to college? Did she ever mention her high school? What was her last job?" pressed Detective Logan.
<
br /> "I do know that!" Finally, there was something I did know! "She worked in a bookshop. I called them for a reference before I offered her the job. I might have their name and number at home or maybe it’s at the library."
"Call me as soon as you find it," said Detective Logan. He plucked a business card from a small pile on his desk and handed it to me. His desk phone number was printed on the front. "What was the name of the business?" he asked.
"I don't recall. I know I wrote it down though, along with the phone number."
"Do you know anything else? Did she drive a car?"
I shook my head. "No."
"How did she get into town?"
"I don't know. By bus, I guess."
"We'll check," said Detective Logan without looking up. "Did Bree have any social media accounts?"
"No, she was a technophobe. She only used the library computer under extreme sufferance."
"Did you know her at all before she came to Calendar?"
"No, I didn't."
This time, Detective Logan looked up, watching me. "Any ideas why she came here? It's not exactly on most people's bucket list of places to live and work," he said, his voice sounding weary.
I smiled. That was true. Calendar was a sweet town, and popular with tourists who liked its quaintness. Although there was an abundance of brick built shops topped with pretty colored siding and signs in matching antiqued fonts, it lacked a buzzing nightlife, bars, theaters, excluding the little one created by the Amateur Dramatics Society, or anything else glamorous enough to attract a big crowd. Most tourists left after a few hours of browsing the antique shops, sporting goods stores, and cafés, or taking part in one of the seasonal activities like the Fourth of July town party, the Halloween Haunted Gardens tour or the annual Christmas parade. If there was one thing Calendar really excelled at, it was celebrating. There was usually always some kind of town event in operation. Adding to its festive appeal was the town's geography. Nestled at the base of a mountainous region, Calendar was extremely picturesque. It never failed to attract many campers and hikers from spring until fall. In the winter, skiing became the most popular pastime. Except for the tourists, the majority of people who came to Calendar only did so because they were related or friendly with someone who lived there. Rarely did a stranger blow in and stay for very long. "I know, but something must have attracted her to this town," I told him, wishing I knew what it might have been.
"I would ask if you knew what that could be, but I'm guessing the answer is no." He waited patiently for me to shake my head. "Thought as much. Listen, Sara, here's my problem. We've got a dead body in the library, discovered after closing hours. We also have a very narrow window of time for the murder to have occurred, thanks to your accurate memory of when you left and returned. I figure Bree must have let herself in, and maybe her killer too, but I don't know why. We don't know who else was in there with her and we don't have the weapon that was used, a gun. We don't know the killer’s motive and we can't find out a damn thing about the dead woman! Don't you find those circumstances a little suspicious?"
"Bree was obviously a very private person," I said. A strange feeling was growing deep within me and I didn't like it. It was the same gut reaction I had when I knew my ex was cheating, and also when I discovered my college roommate was reading my papers and using my research to write her own. The unpleasant, sticky feeling that something is wrong also crept up on me a few minutes before I found Bree's body. I just didn't know then what might have caused it.
Detective Logan continued talking, "A dead woman, whom no one seems to know anything about, and has no past, or anything that ties her to something or someone, is very worrying."
"Do you think she was trying to escape from something?" I asked. I read a book like that once. The beautiful, young woman fled from an abusive husband and started her new life with an assumed identity. She thought she was safe until he came after her, heralding a renewed reign of terror. The protagonist devised all kinds of things to give herself a fictional past when she arrived in a town she had no connection to. A town where she hoped she would never be found. "Like maybe from a husband or boyfriend? Someone she was really scared of?" I asked.
The detective gave me a long, silent look that made my fingers fidget in my lap. "I appreciate you coming down to the station," he said finally.
I wondered why he didn't answer my question but decided Sam Logan was not in a very friendly mood. Mostly, he looked weary and exasperated so I figured my lack of answers was a major contributor to his ennui. That, and I assumed he didn't relish the thought of breaking Bree's death to her family when he eventually managed to find them.
"When can I reopen the library?" I asked since I couldn’t think of any other questions. Detective Logan failed to tell me anything about Bree's death beyond what I already knew; and he didn't seem any closer to apprehending the culprit. I wasn't really that eager to get inside, not so much as being worried that the library might never reopen. Bree wouldn't have wanted that. She was every bit as determined as I was that the library should remain open. Jason Rees hadn't stopped by with any more bad news, not since yesterday, but it was only a matter of time before his firm persuaded the town council to abruptly closed the library’s doors for good. Corpse or not, I had to get inside and start working on my rescue plan. I needed something positive to focus on and to keep my head from filling up with terrible thoughts.
"We should be done with our investigation in a couple of days."
"A couple of days!" I exclaimed, my visible disappointment upsetting me.
Detective Logan's brows knitted together. "Are you that eager to clean up?"
"What? No!" I cringed at the idea of cleaning up my friend's spilt blood. It didn't occur to me last night that there could have been some blood left on the library's wooden floor, probably all dried up and sticky now. I would have to search online for the best way to remove it, or even better, ask someone from the town council to hire a professional cleaning service. Scratch that. They probably would only complain about the budget and say no, adding that to the list of reasons why the library should be torn down.
I wasn't sure I wanted to do the cleanup, or even if I were that keen to reopen the doors again. Thinking that Bree perished there while I walked around like nothing had happened was a horrible thought. Yet if I didn't reopen it, Jason Rees would, no doubt, seize the opportunity to knock down the library at once, without any opposition from me. That made my decision easy. "Please tell me when I can reopen the library," I told the detective. "I'd like to open it up again as soon as possible."
"Sure will. You know, however, that a lot of people will just want to come in and take a ghoulish look at the crime scene?" Detective Logan warned.
I shuddered. "Then I'll insist that they sign the petition to save the library before I let them in," I said.
"What are you going to do until then?" Detective Logan asked. He dropped the pen on his notepad and rocked back in his chair, visible curiosity filling his eyes. At least, I hoped it was curiosity and not suspicion.
"I intend to find out something important about Bree," I replied, almost regretting the words as soon as I said them. I grabbed my purse as I stood up and slid the detective's business card into the small inside pocket. I couldn't stop myself from blurting out, "I feel terrible that I can't even answer your simplest questions; and I also want to know why she never told me anything personal about herself."
"Don't you start anything like an investigation," warned Detective Logan. "I advise you to stay away from this nasty business. I hate to say it, because I don't want to scare you, but you were very lucky last night. We could easily have driven two bodies to the morgue."
"I was just lucky Jason turned up when he did," I said.
"Yeah? Lucky timing," said Detective Logan. This time, I concluded he did look suspicious, but was it because of Jason? "This is nothing like your mystery novels. This is real life and there's a real murderer out there."
"Yo
u're right, this isn't like any mystery novel," I told him, hoping he assumed I was just agreeing with him. But as I left, I thought, It really isn't. This is real life and I'm not going to let someone get away with murder!
Chapter Four
I looked at the chocolate sprinkle-covered cupcake in front of me and wondered if it were a comfort offering or possibly a bribe. The three pairs of eyes watching me convinced me that it must have been a little bit of both. The eyes watched me pick it up and take a bite, which I slowly chewed.
"It's just so unbelievably awful," said Jaclyn Henry. She owned the Coffee Corner, a smart, little café situated on Calendar's main square. She was currently off work, owing to a broken leg she sustained over the new year. Fortunately, her assistant, Candice, took over the daily management, but that didn't stop Jaclyn from stopping by to check on it every couple of days.
"A murder in Calendar! We don't even have burglaries," added my mother. She untied a colorful scarf and draped it over the back of her chair, along with her amply padded, down coat. After running into her on Main Street, only a few minutes walk from the police station, I was not surprised to find out that she already knew about Bree’s murder. She insisted on taking me to the café for a treat. I figured by treat, she meant an interrogation and since I had the time, I allowed her to guide me inside. My mother looked a lot like me with dark brown hair and brown eyes. My hair, however, was swept up into a ponytail, and highlighted with caramel streaks, while hers was a pixie crop. She had a terrific sense of style that I could only hope to emulate.
Jeopardy in January Page 3