Jeopardy in January

by Camilla Chafer

  I watched Mrs. Kowalski digging a hole next to a green bush. "Do people really think Bree buried the jewels somewhere in Calendar?" I asked, turning back.

  "They haven’t been found yet, so they have to be somewhere," Joe reasoned.

  "It would be nice if someone put more effort into tracking down the fiend that killed Bree rather than what they might find in someone’s backyard."

  "Money always brings out the worst in people."

  I commiserated again over him being saddled with the unenviable job of watching over the house. Privately, I agreed with him. It seemed highly unlikely that the man I overheard would return. If he were watching the apartment inconspicuously, he surely would have witnessed the officer’s presence, Mrs. Kowalski and countless others in the vicinity. When I thought more about it, I decided it was also unlikely that Bree would have buried a valuable haul nearby. She always struck me as being quite smart. If she did hide the jewels, it would have been smarter to stash them somewhere easily accessible but not too closeby. The jewels might not even be in Calendar! Bree could have hidden them somewhere along the way, long before she even arrived here.

  As I said goodbye and stepped away, I heard a commotion behind me. I stopped and watched Joe get out of the truck and jog across the road. A moment later, he was chasing a pair of teenagers from the garden while Mrs. Kowalski followed close behind, waving her hand spade angrily and shouting at the audacious trespassers. I shook my head and continued my journey, wondering what I should say to Jason when I reached the library.

  A few minutes later, without deciding on anything to say if he were still there, I reached the library's iron garden gate. I opened it and stepped through, but a shiver vibrated down my spine. It wasn't just the cold, although the bitter morning was quite chilly, but something else. I paused, listening closely, and trying to work out what could have alerted my senses.

  From behind the library, I heard a faint voice! No. There were two voices.

  Latching the gate to the post to keep it open, I stepped into the garden, and began following the path as it curved around the library. My nerves were jangled. When I decided to become a librarian, I envisaged a cozy life of handling rare, old books, devouring catalogues, and encouraging children to build a lifetime of dreams and adventures from their own homes. I didn't anticipate creeping around library gardens, with my heels crunching on the gravel, or searching for people who didn't belong there. In the middle of winter, absolutely no one belonged in the garden! Sure, it was often open for public access on most days, but few people opted to walk in the garden during the snowy or wet months.

  When I found the source of the voices, I stopped in a dead halt. "What's going on?" I asked, taking in the strange sight. If I hadn't just heard Joe's description of the people he saw around Bree's apartment, I would have been less prepared than I was now. Even so, I looked at the hand trowels in the Rileys’ hands with utter disbelief. Still worse, several large holes had already been dug around the evergreen bushes and the majestic, old oak tree.

  "We didn't do that," said Mr. Riley. Both he and his wife were prominent members of the gardening club, whose meetings my mother occasionally attended. However, I was willing to bet a large sum of money that this activity had nothing to do with that.

  "Uh-huh," I replied, knowing my face could not mask my suspicion.

  "We really didn't. It was like this when we got here!"

  "See?" said Mrs. Riley, holding up her hand trowel. It looked like it had never been used, but maybe she could have cleaned it. Perhaps they really didn't dig the holes, but it surely appeared they had come here armed to do so. Someone had simply beaten them to it.

  "Anyone else in here?" I asked.

  "No, just us."

  "We thought the garden looked a little overgrown so we came to do the maintenance and found it exactly like this," said Mr. Riley, persisting with his transparent ruse.

  "And this gardening maintenance has nothing to do with that silly rumor that millions of dollars in jewels were buried somewhere in Calendar?" I sighed, knowing that no matter what they said, it wouldn't be the truth.

  "What?" gasped Mr. Riley.

  "No!" exclaimed his wife.

  "Surely not!"

  "Our civic duty..."

  Their excuses came thick and fast.

  "Nothing is buried here," I assured them, pointing to the holes, "and if there were, someone already beat you to it. I'll escort you out now and let’s not worry about the gardening. The town council sends a regular gardener to do the maintenance once-a-month. Let's go." I hurried the couple out of the garden, shaking my head at their continued protests of charitable intentions. When I'd seen them out of the gates, I unlocked the rarely used padlock and secured it through the notch. It might not put off any serious attempts to dig up the garden but could deter anyone who was unable to scale the gate and the fence.

  I was surprised to find the Rileys there, having expected to see Jason. If he were the one behind the huge holes, he would definitely get a piece of my mind! Despite how hard I tried, I just couldn't picture him digging up the garden in search of mystery treasure. Not that I didn't think he had the strength — he definitely did — but I couldn't see him excavating any dirt without a plan or some real indication of where the treasure might be buried. The holes were haphazardly scooped out rather than being dug with any serious intention. However, since Jason wasn’t around, I couldn't ask him.

  Walking around to the front of the building, I pulled out my phone. Jason gave me his phone number on the way to the city if I needed to call him. I hadn't planned on using his number again, but now I had to. Standing in the doorway, my thumb hovering over his name, I was hesitating. Only when a shadow fell over the phone, did I realize I didn't need to call him.

  "Hi," said Jason, looking pleased to see me.

  I dropped my phone into my pocket. "I was just going to call you," I told him.

  A smile spread across his face. "That would have been a nice surprise."

  "Would it?" I asked, unable to keep the note of annoyance from my voice. "I heard you were in the library garden earlier and I just found it all dug up."

  "Dug up?" Jason frowned.

  I glanced at his hands, noticing the lack of any spade or signs of dirt. Not that it mattered. He could have easily stowed a shovel in his car and wiped off the loose dirt. I looked down for more evidence of digging but noted the hem of his slacks looked neat and clean and his polished shoes didn't show any traces of dirt.

  Sighing, I felt more relieved than disappointed. Jason couldn’t possibly be a treasure hunter. "Some people are convinced that Bree buried her loot somewhere in town. I just chased a couple of people armed with hand spades from the garden and had to lock the gate. Don't laugh!" I warned, seeing him struggle to hold it in. He gave up and burst out laughing and within seconds, I joined him. "I think the town has gone crazy," I continued. "One whiff of millions and everyone is looking for X marks the spot! Even Bree's ancient, downstairs neighbor is outside digging in her garden and the police said someone dug up the plant pots near her door."

  "I barely knew Bree but I don't think she would bury something that precious in a plant pot. And yes," he added, "I heard all the rumors about the treasure. All the employees of the Maple Tree Hotel talked about nothing else this morning."

  "That's what I thought. And you know what? I don't even know that I care where the jewels are… unless they're the key to finding her killer."

  The amused look on Jason's face vanished. "You still think someone is hanging around to get them?"

  "I don't know. Maybe."

  "Then the safest thing to do is stay as far away as possible."

  I nodded, without making any commitment to do that. It was true that I didn't care about the jewels, although Tom's suggestion that a finder’s fee could possibly save the library was more than a little enticing. What did interest me was that Bree's killer and the other thief, the one Bree might have double-crossed, could be the same
person. If that person were willing to take her life in exchange for the jewels’ location, surely if they had that information they would have already been long gone? The more I thought about what I overheard from the man's one-sided conversation in her apartment, the more I believed she refused to confess her secret. Another thought struck me: he was speaking to someone on the other end. So there was definitely more than one person involved.

  "What are you doing here anyway?" I asked, remembering why I'd been looking for him.

  "My firm asked me to take some measurements."

  "Is that why you were in the garden earlier? Someone saw you and mentioned it to me."

  "So you checked to make sure I'm not digging it up? I'm not, Sara, I swear! I had to take new measurements of the building."

  My mood dropped. "Don't you already have everything you need for the purchase?"

  "My firm does."

  "Then I think your work here is done," I replied tartly, reaching for my keys.

  "Wait. Are you opening up?"

  "Sorry to disappoint you, but yes," I snapped. "Detective Logan cleared the library and told me to go ahead and open up as normal."

  "Oh. That's good news."

  I blinked back my surprise. I fully expected Jason to be disappointed or even scathing at the reopening of the library, especially now, with little more than a couple of weeks to save it. Perhaps he simply decided there was no point rubbing it in any longer, not when he assumed nothing more could be done. I wasn't sure if it were kindness, which would have been endearing, or the satisfaction of knowing his firm was getting away with destroying the beautiful, old building.

  "It must be cold inside," he continued, surprising me again.

  "I expect so. I'm sure I'll warm up as soon as I get things organized. I plan on reopening tomorrow." I started to tell him about the party but thought better of it. Inviting Jason was like asking him to watch us fail. Determined as I was, I knew it would take a miracle to win this fight. Perhaps Tom's idea to find the jewels first wasn't a bad suggestion!

  "Why don't I bring you a coffee?"

  "I..." I started, unsure of what to say. I'd been so determined to be pithy and sharp that his offer made me forget all about that.

  "I'll be back soon," he said, waving as he took the path before I could protest.

  I wasn't sure how I felt about Jason's company but I unlocked the doors, stepping inside the empty building. I reached for the wall panel, flicking on every light, illuminating the dark interior, and pushed the door shut behind me, nudging it with my shoulder when it stuck. Waiting in the entryway, I shivered, suddenly feeling very uncertain. Normally, the library was a place I relished. Being alone in the midst of the old books, breathing in the mixed scent of leather and paper, and observing the patterns of dappled light from the stained-glass window on the stairs always seemed such a luxury, but today it felt unnatural and different. Someone had died here only days before. Someone had taken her last breath in there, just like the library would soon. The juxtaposition of the two awful events made my jaw tremble and I pressed my hand to my mouth, holding back the sob that was climbing up my throat.

  I sucked in a long breath and blew it out, forcing myself to repeat the action until my breathing was steady and calm.

  "C'mon, Sara," I pep-talked, cramming all my reserves of energy into my speech. "You can either stand in the doorway, without turning around, and never come back; or you can get to work and start making this place party-ready. If not for you, then do it for Bree and the whole town; they deserve to keep this library." The words I rattled in my head revived me. I unzipped my jacket but decided not to take it off until the generator had pumped some heat into the building. Lifting one foot forward, then the next, I walked deeper into the library, gaining more purpose with each step.

  Starting at the desk that served as the command center, I scooped up all the books. They had been lying there since the doors were last closed. I carefully loaded them onto the trolley. Next, I sat at the desk and sorted through the small stack of mail. I busied myself organizing, sorting and shuffling the desk items until eventually, there was nothing left for me to do.

  The only thing that could combat the chill was exercise. I pushed the chair under the desk and reached for the trolley, pushing it along and returning the various books to their proper shelves. Taking my time to neaten the racks, I also ensured the displays were rotated. By the time I returned the trolley to the desk, I had come to a grim conclusion.

  I was avoiding the upper floor.

  At some point, I had to go upstairs. With a rush, I realized how well I avoided even thinking about taking the stairs to the upper floor. I had to. I couldn't postpone it forever, yet I wasn't sure if I were ready for whatever I might find up there.

  After another restoring deep breath, I propelled myself forwards, walking quickly before I changed my mind. I took the stairs without pausing to smile at the stained-glass beam that I usually found so pleasing. Instead, I pushed onwards.

  I wasn't sure what I expected to find now the police had released the scene. Previously there hadn’t been the faint chalk outline of a body or some leftover crime scene tape. What did I imagine now? Bree's ghost! But there was nothing left to mark the crime.

  Moving around, I stopped when I saw the dark stain, no more than a foot across, that I’d seen the last time I entered. It was so dark, it almost disappeared against the dark wooden floors but I could still see it.

  I turned away quickly, unable to look at it any longer and marched over to the display case. That I could deal with. The glass case was secured with a small combination lock. Turning the numbers to the right combination, it clicked open and I folded back the lid. With my back firmly turned, I busied myself by emptying Bree's pirate display. I needed to install new things designed to evoke the history of the town. I returned the pirate books to their shelves and tipped the paste crystals into a plastic tub, which I stowed in my desk for another day. Searching the office, I was hoping to find some ephemera linked to the town history that I'd previously tucked away. I spotted a collection of photographs and a few other items. Both pleased and distracted at my discovery, I took them upstairs, arranging them delicately in the display case.

  "Books," I murmured, laughing to myself when I realized what was missing. I turned around, looking for the local history section, and glimpsed the dark stain before quickly looking away again. I skirted around it as I went to collect the books and averted my eyes so as not to see it on my return journey.

  When I finished, I closed the case and secured the lock. Turning around, I fixed my stare on the floor. Someone was calling my name but I couldn't answer; I could only gaze vacantly at the stain.

  "Sara? Sara, are you okay?"

  I turned around, seeing Jason walking towards me. He held a coffee cup in each hand and a paper bag from the café. Concern clouded his normally handsome face. "I called you... Sara?"

  I couldn't hold it in. A tear rolled down my cheek and my face instantly crumpled.

  Jason set the cups on the low console and rushed towards me. His arms wrapped around me in a tight hug, using one hand to tenderly stroke my hair. I buried my face into his chest, holding on to him as my unshed tears finally rushed out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

  Jason and I sat on the top step of the staircase, both of us watching the blue, yellow, and red light as it spread across the toes of our shoes. Our hands were wrapped around the coffee cups he returned with. My shivering had almost subsided and I felt drained.

  "You were upset. It's natural," he said, bumping his knee against mine, and offering me a reassuring smile.

  "I felt so cold," I said, my chin still trembling.

  "I think that was mostly fear. It's not that cold in here."

  "You are pretty hot," I said, turning to him. My eyes widened when his eyebrows rose and I realized how I sounded. "No, I meant, you are so warm. What are you? A werewolf?" I asked, th
inking about how nice his radiant heat felt pressed against me as I sobbed onto his chest.

  "Maybe," Jason laughed, stroking his chin. "You should see me on a weekend before I shave. Putting that aside, are you sure you want to be here? You don't have to torture yourself."

  "I'm not. It just hit me all at once when I saw..." I trailed off and began nodding toward the area by the bookshelves where I'd found Bree only days before. Except for the stain, it seemed like nothing at all happened, much less a murder. "I'm okay now. Thank you. And thank you for the coffee."

  "There're some muffins too. I didn't know if you had eaten breakfast yet."

  "I have, but if Candice made them, I simply can't refuse!"

  "The lady at Coffee Corner? With the dark hair?"

  "That's her."

  "Then yes, they are. I hate to confess my secret addiction to her baked goodies. I might leave Calendar ten pounds heavier than when I arrived." Jason laughed. He reached for the paper bag and passed it to me. I opened it, inhaling the sugary scent, but I didn't reach inside. Treats like these deserved a better setting. Instead, I rolled the top of the bag closed and set it by Jason's feet. "You don't want one?" he cajoled.

  "Maybe in a few minutes."

  "I can stay and help," offered Jason. He set down his cup and took my hand. "You don't have to do whatever you're attempting to do by yourself. What are you doing anyway?"

  I thought about telling Jason I was throwing a party to which he wasn't invited, since he was indirectly the reason we were throwing it in the first place, but I decided against it. Somehow, it seemed too mean. Plus, it wasn't Jason's fault that the firm he worked for made a deal with the council to buy the land where the library was situated. He was just the unenviable one assigned to carry out their orders. Except, the little voice in my head pointed out, he could have said no. I sighed. No, he probably couldn't. He was only doing his job and had no idea how much the library meant to the town. Or what it meant to me.