“It’s Harvey. When I brought up the subject of Dorothy blackmailing people, he advised me to stop investigating her murder. I think he meant it as a threat.”
“Nasty man,” Evelyn mumbled under her breath. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“I wish I knew what Dorothy had on him,” I said.
I took in a few deep breaths and headed downstairs to the supply room so I could speak to Evelyn in private. When I was safely inside, I turned to face her.
“Did you get to the meeting last night? I didn’t see you there.”
“I decided not to make my presence known,” she said, smoothing down her black pencil skirt. “I wasn’t happy to see my niece’s husband show up with Ernie Pfeiffer—the two of them acting like BFFs.”
I burst out laughing, then quickly apologized when I caught her scowl. “Sorry, but hearing you use that expression is kind of bizarre.”
“I must have picked it up from the teens who hang out in the young adult section,” Evelyn said.
“I wonder if Haven House was the project your nephew Roger wanted to get in on when Dorothy refused to lend him the money.”
“Sounds like it could be. And since Ernie Pfeiffer’s involved, you can bet he’s making a bundle on it. He never does anything out of the goodness of his heart. He doesn’t have one.”
“Gillian said it’s rumored that Haven House will be used at nights for high-stakes card games.”
“And parties,” Evelyn said darkly. “That could mean drugs. Prostitutes.”
“What bothers me most is that once word gets out, the place will be shut down,” I said. “So much for helping the homeless in Clover Ridge.”
“And they’re so looking forward to having a place to go to during the day,” Evelyn said. “I hear them talking among themselves in the reading room. For the first time, they sound excited about having activities and games to play and TVs to watch.”
I sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell John about the rumors. I hate to see the plans for Haven House fall through for the people who need it the most.”
“John Mathers is nobody’s fool. If he doesn’t already know, he’s sure to find out about the other uses intended for Haven House, whether you tell him or not.”
Evelyn faded away, and I climbed the stairs to the main level. I hadn’t taken more than five steps when I heard, “Cousin Carrie! Cousin Carrie!”
Tacey came bounding toward me. I swept her up in my arms and swung her around.
“Mommy said I could go to Miss Marion’s read-aloud today!”
Julia approached, several books in her arms. “I decided to let Tacey attend this afternoon’s program. I came early to pick up a few books I’d reserved.”
“Were you planning to stay for the program?” I asked.
A look of indecision crossed Julia’s face. “I suppose I should, though I have several errands to run for the new decorating job I’ve taken on.”
“Tacey can stay with me until the program starts. I’ll walk her over and pick her up at the end of the hour. She’ll be in my office until you come for her. That way you can run your errands without feeling pressured.”
“Are you sure? You have your own work to do without keeping an eye on Tacey.”
I waved away her concern. “I’d love to spend time with her.” I turned to my little cousin. “When Miss Marion finishes reading her stories, would you like to stay with me in my office? You can draw while I work.”
Tacey’s eyes filled with delight. “Can we stop at the coffee shop and get a brownie?”
“I don’t see why not,” I said. “You can always call me on my cell,” I told Julia. “Or text me.”
The last of her doubts disappeared. “I’ll do that. And let you know if I’m running late.” Impulsively, she hugged me. “Thanks so much, Carrie. Sometimes I feel there aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done.”
Tacey skipped beside me as I headed for my office. Trish was getting ready to leave for the day.
“Well, hello, Miss Tacey!”
Tacey giggled.
“You got three phone calls,” Trish said to me as she slipped on her parka. “I took care of two of them, but the third is a woman who wants to give a talk on snakes and insisted on talking to you. Her number’s on your desk.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Was she planning to bring in snakes as part of the program?”
“I think so. See you tomorrow.”
“Where’s Miss Evelyn?” Tacey asked when we were alone.
“Good question, honey. She comes and goes. I never know when she’ll show up.”
“I’m right here,” Evelyn said, manifesting before our eyes.
“Oh, goody!” Tacey said. “I’ve missed you, Miss Evelyn. I wish I could hug you.”
“So do I, Tacey. What have you been up to?”
“I’m learning to write my letters. I can write my name!”
“Good for you,” Evelyn said.
I sat down in front of my computer and ran through the email I’d been sent during the past few hours, trying to give my two guests some privacy. As they whispered and laughed, I marveled at their fondness for each other and how Tacey had learned not to talk about Evelyn, who Julia used to worry was her daughter’s imaginary friend.
I glanced at my watch. It was five minutes to the hour, which meant I’d better start walking Tacey over to the children’s section. I put my arm around her. “Tacey, honey, it’s time to head over to Miss Marion’s. We don’t want to be late and miss part of the story.”
Tacey pursed her lips. “Not yet.”
“Go with Cousin Carrie,” Evelyn urged her. “We’ll talk again real soon.”
“Well, all right.” Tacey reached for my hand, and we walked over to the children’s section. “I wish Miss Evelyn could come to my house.”
“I bet she’d love to come, but we can’t always have exactly what we want.”
“I know. Mommy tells me that.” Tacey brightened as she had a thought. “But at least I can visit her here in the library.”
“Of course,” I agreed.
Tacey let go of my hand and skipped the rest of the way to story time.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Since I was off on Saturday, I got up to feed Smoky Joe and then went back to sleep for another hour. After breakfast, I straightened up the cottage and answered some long overdue email. I slipped into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt and checked through my list of errands. I needed a few items at the supermarket and had to stop at the bank for some cash, fill the car with gas, and look for a dress for tonight’s gala.
I had a dressy outfit I could wear, but this was the perfect opportunity to shop in Trendy Elegance, the boutique where Fred’s girlfriend worked. I wanted to talk to Leila Bevins. She’d impressed me as a nice, caring person, which didn’t mean she was off my list of possible suspects. And perhaps she might tell me something about Fred and Dorothy’s relationship. Or share a comment Dorothy might have made to Fred about a person she disliked or feared that he’d passed on to her. I sighed. The problem with investigating Dorothy’s murder was that there were just too many suspects.
Trendy Elegance was located on a street of shops and galleries facing the Green. Our village center was abuzz with activity as neighbors stopped to chat with one another between errands on this sunny Saturday morning. I managed to find a parking spot a few doors down from the store. I pulled open the ornate wood and copper-trimmed door and spotted Leila assisting a middle-aged woman scrutinizing herself in the three-part mirror in the rear section of the shop.
“May I help you?” an attractive young woman in a sleek black dress asked.
I gestured at Leila. “I need a dress. I’ll wait till Leila’s free.”
“Certainly,” she said, though she didn’t look pleased as she flounced off.
I stopped to admire a pile of sweaters, then walked through the shop to the back. Party dresses and gowns hung on both sides of the room. The customer Leila had bee
n helping must have gone into a dressing room because she was nowhere in sight.
“Carrie!” Leila said, sounding both surprised and happy to see me. “What brings you to Trendy Elegance?”
“I need a party dress for tonight. I’m hoping you’ll find something I can wear.”
She studied me quickly and professionally. “That should be easy enough with your lovely figure. Why don’t you look through the sixes and eights over here?” Her arm swept to the left side of the shop. “I shouldn’t be too long. My customer is deciding between two outfits.”
As though Leila had summoned her, the woman appeared in a navy suit. “This is exactly what I wanted, but it seems so boring after the dress.”
“I agree. The dress is lively. Sexy.” Leila smiled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Your husband will love it. So will your daughter.”
When the woman sent her a worried glance, Leila added. “And if she doesn’t, you can always bring it back and exchange it for the suit, which is certainly more sedate.”
The woman wrinkled her nose. “Sedate! I’ll take the dress.”
“Wonderful! Would you like to try it on again, or shall I ring it up for you?”
“Ring it up, please.”
I skimmed through the rack of party dresses, shocked by their cost. The least expensive was over five hundred dollars. Leila, her customer’s dress draped over her arm, must have read my expression, because she burst out laughing.
“Why don’t you check out the dresses on sale? The smaller sizes don’t go as quickly as the larger ones.” Her grin grew larger. “And today we’ve increased the discount to fifty percent off.”
She left to complete her customer’s purchase, and I turned to the sales rack. Three dresses immediately caught my eye. One was a slinky black number; another, a mauve and purple print with gold metallic highlights; and the third was a deep violet with a sweetheart neck and a lovely draping skirt.
“Good choices,” Leila said when she returned and saw what I’d selected. “Why don’t you try them on, and we’ll see which suits you the best.”
In the dressing room, I hummed as I stripped to my bra and underwear, then reached for the black party dress. I wasn’t crazy about clothes shopping, but today I was enjoying myself. This was, I realized, largely due to Leila’s warm and breezy assistance. I slipped on the black high-heeled slingbacks left in the room for exactly this purpose and stepped in front of the three-part mirror.
Leila scrutinized me from head to toe and had me turn around. “Elegant, and it fits you like a glove.”
“But?” I said.
“Too formal. Too sophisticated. No fun is what I mean,” she added quickly when she saw that I’d taken her comment as a criticism. “Let’s see how the mauve print looks. By the way, what’s the occasion for the new dress?”
“I’m going to a dinner dance at the country club,” I told her from the dressing room. “It’s a fundraiser for Haven House. A house is being renovated and turned into a center where the homeless can spend their days.”
“Fred and I are going too.”
“You are?” I poked my head out.
“Yes. His sister-in-law asked us to come. We thought it was a good cause, so Fred told her we would be there.”
I exited the fitting room in the second dress.
“Stunning!” was Leila’s reaction after I’d spun around and she’d finished scrutinizing me.
“You don’t think it’s a little—drab?” I asked.
“You can carry it off, especially after you’ve put on makeup.”
“I don’t use much makeup,” I said, frowning. “Maybe I’ll wear the outfit I have, after all.”
“Isn’t that what you were planning all along?” Leila asked.
“What do you mean?” I felt my cheeks grow warm.
“I think you came here to ask me questions about Fred—and Dorothy.”
“Maybe I did,” I admitted. “But how did you guess?”
“Carrie, dear, Clover Ridge is a small town. Everyone knows you’ve helped solve mysteries and murders, and Dorothy was a colleague of yours. You’re our own Nancy Drew.”
I gaped at her. “Is that what people are calling me?”
Leila shrugged. “One or two. Don’t be offended. It’s not an insult, you know.”
“I would like to ask you something, now that you mention it,” I said.
Leila gestured to the loveseat in the corner. “Fire away. Of course, I don’t know how much I can help you. Fred and I were out of touch for years. We only reconnected after Dorothy’s death.”
When we were both seated, I said, “Dorothy offended people left and right. And the police have a list of people she was blackmailing, so there’s no shortage of suspects.”
“Including Fred and me,” Leila said, suddenly solemn. “The sooner the mystery of her death is cleared up, the sooner we can marry.”
So that’s why you’re so willing to talk to me. “I was wondering if Dorothy ever told Fred that she was afraid of someone.”
“You mean aside from insisting that Fred attacked her?” Leila said sarcastically. “Let me think.”
“Was she afraid of Ernie Pfeiffer? Did she think he would retaliate because she tried to sue him more than once?” As well as blackmailing him.
“I don’t think so. According to Fred, Dorothy didn’t spend much time worrying about what people thought of her. Except for her Aunt Evelyn, of course, but Evelyn’s dead.”
“Yes, she loved her aunt and respected her opinion.”
After a minute, Leila said, “Believe it or not, she seemed very upset after an argument with her sister, Frances—Francesca, I suppose I should say. Fred’s not even sure what the argument was about. Money, he thought, but Dorothy refused to go into details. She did say her sister was as sneaky and treacherous as they come. She had this flighty, airy manner that masked a manipulative, scheming mind. Even when they were children, she managed to make Dorothy look like the bad one and got her way with their parents.”
“Very interesting,” I said. “Did Fred say when this argument took place?”
“A week or so before Dorothy’s accident at the supermarket. And they argued another time when Dorothy was home from work. It was after that fight that she decided she’d had enough of staying home and was going back to work the following morning.”
“Really?” I said. “Did Fred mention this to the police?”
“I doubt it,” Leila said. “It’s all conjecture, as they put it, isn’t it? Fred had no idea what they were arguing about. And it’s difficult to imagine that Frances—er, Francesca—was capable of killing her sister, and in such a brutal way.”
“Still,” I began.
“Why don’t you try on the violet dress? Maybe that will suit you best of all.”
I changed into dress number three and zipped it up. The moment I saw myself in the mirror, I knew this was it! My first thought was that it was a shame Dylan wouldn’t see me in it when I wore it tonight. With that in mind, I took a selfie and sent it off to him, then left the dressing room to get Leila’s opinion.
“This is it!” she exclaimed. “Perfect fit, perfect length.”
I peered at the flattering neckline, the slenderizing bodice and flouncy, feminine skirt that suited me in every way. “And I already have the perfect shoes!” I exclaimed. “And jewelry.”
Even with the discount, the dress cost three hundred and fifty dollars. But it was worth it, I thought as I put on my yoga pants and T-shirt. I walked behind Leila as she carried my dress to the cash register at the front of the store, as she had for the previous customer.
“We thank you for shopping at Trendy Elegance,” she said when I handed over my charge card. With a wink, she added, “Fred and I look forward to seeing you tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I hummed as I drove to the Clover Ridge Country Club. In my new party dress and favorite black strappy spiked heels, I looked pretty darn good, if I had to say so mys
elf. For once, I’d fussed with my hair, brushed on some blush and eye shadow, and mascara’d my eyelashes. I wished Dylan were there at my side. Still, I found myself looking forward to the evening.
One of the young valets drove my car off to the parking lot while another held open the clubhouse door. I entered the elegant lobby, glittering under the blaze of its two chandeliers. As soon as Gillian spotted me, she leaped up from the sofa where she’d been waiting to join me. I handed my jacket to the woman working the coat room and slipped the ticket into my tiny pocketbook that held nothing more than Dylan’s check, a lipstick, my cell phone, my license, and a twenty-dollar bill for emergencies.
“You look great!” Gillian said.
“So do you,” I said, admiring her one-shouldered silky black dress that showed off her shapely figure.
We paused in the doorway to have our names checked off and to hand over our hefty entrance fees—mine kindly paid for by Dylan—then strode into the room where waiters were circling with trays of cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. In the far corner, a harpist strummed a gentle tune that served as the perfect background music for the animated conversations around us.
“I’ve been to two weddings here at the country club, and this is my favorite room,” Gillian exclaimed.
“It is beautiful,” I agreed, admiring the décor that managed to be both elegant and glitzy at the same time.
Gillian pointed across the room. “Behind that wall of drapes are floor-to-ceiling windows that open onto a terrace with a fantastic view of the mountains.”
“What a great place for a summer wedding! No wonder the country club was my friend Angela’s first choice—except for the cost, of course.”
“I’d love to get married here,” Gillian said. “Wouldn’t you?”
I was saved from having to respond by a waitress offering us flutes of champagne from her tray. We raised our glasses to each other and sipped.
“Mmm, this is the good stuff,” Gillian said.
“Whatever it is, I love it.”
“Well, hello, Carrie and Gillian! Don’t you both look stunning!”
I turned to see Frances bearing down on us. She wore a gold-colored satin cocktail dress with stiffened pieces of the same fabric jutting out from her shoulders. Was this supposed to be the latest in fashion? To emphasize her importance, she’d placed a sparkling tiara atop her head of fair hair.
Buried in the Stacks Page 16