“Can I help you?” she asked in a voice that sounded as bored as her expression.
I said, “Hi there. I just wanted to pick up some information about tanning. And a price list.”
The woman pulled out a brochure. “Here’s what we have. If you have any other questions, you can give me a call. I’m usually here.”
I saw that she wrote down Mary on the brochure and circled the phone number for the salon.
“Thanks,” I said. I hesitated, not really having expected this meeting to take so little time.
Mary shrugged and appeared to be trying to drum up some interest. “Are you thinking of tanning for a special occasion, or were you wanting it to be a regular thing? There are discount packages listed in there if you want to come more than just a handful of times.” She glanced at my skin. “You’re gonna have to be real careful not to get yourself burned in one of those beds. Looks like you haven’t exactly spent a ton of time in the sun.”
“No reunion or wedding or anything like that. I was thinking about making some personal changes and this is something I’ve had on my mind for a while,” I lied. I knew there was one thing I definitely was not interested in and that was tanning. I’d realized when I was a kid that someone with my dark hair, blue eyes, and porcelain skin didn’t really tan. What we did instead was burn to a crisp. “I had kind of an upsetting day yesterday and it made me rethink my priorities.”
I hoped that didn’t sound lame. Apparently, it didn’t to Mary, who now showed the first sign of piqued interest.
“What happened to you yesterday?” she asked, tilting her head to one side. Then she appeared to remember her manners. “That is, if you don’t mind talking about it. Although I’ve found that sometimes talking about stuff makes it easier,” she said persuasively.
Mary, from my experience working with the public for years, seemed to be the type who thrived on gossip. I swore her pupils dilated at the prospect of hearing something that could be scandalous. I lowered my voice, as if anyone else was in the building, and said, “I had a blind date that went really, really wrong. I mean, blind dates are rough anyway, right? But this one was the worst. I showed up to his house at the time we were supposed to meet and he didn’t answer the door. I could smell the grill going, so I walked around the side of the house to see if he was outside. That’s when I found him. Dead.”
Mary jerked back in surprise. “Roger Walton.”
I said slowly, “You knew him? And knew about his death?”
Mary said, “That’s right.” She added quickly, “My coworker called me last night pretty late. I used to work with him and she knew that and called to let me know.” Mary narrowed her eyes. “Before I say anything, did you know him? You said it was a blind date, right? So you hadn’t even met him? Weren’t fond of him?”
I shook my head.
Mary nodded. “Okay. Well, the truth is I didn’t like the guy at all. I think you had a lucky escape . . . uh, what was your name?”
“Ann Beckett.”
“Ann, you had a lucky escape,” said Mary with a short laugh.
I said, since I wasn’t supposed to know their connection, “You were in a relationship with him?”
Mary shook her head emphatically. “No way. I’m a lot older than he is, anyway. No, we worked together. Not here at the tanning salon, of course. That was when I had my more professional job as an investment counselor. Bet you couldn’t tell I’m a whiz at stocks and bonds, could you?” Her voice was bitter, but the kind of bitter with a lot of sadness rolled into it.
“You were coworkers, then?” I asked.
“Yep. And at first it seemed like everything was fine. He was friendly enough and could be good for a laugh. But he was also sort of a slacker. I’d be working my fingers to the bone, and I’d look over and he’d be on his phone on a personal call or just pushing papers around on his desk. I didn’t think he put a lot of time into the company. And I didn’t think he was as good with investments or gave as good advice as I did. But, after all, I’d been with the company a lot longer than he was,” Mary said.
I said, “He sounds like he’d be tough to have as a coworker.”
She shrugged. “He was all right. Until one of the managers retired, and the company wanted to promote from within. I knew I was going to get the promotion. There was no way I couldn’t get it. I put in longer hours than Roger did, I’d been there way longer, I’d paid my dues, and I was just better at the job. But the next thing I know, Roger has this hush-hush, door shut meeting with our boss. And then he ended up with the promotion! I tell you, the guy had a golden tongue.”
I said, “So you think he was in there flattering the boss? Talking his way into the job?”
“It was probably partly that, but mostly that he was sabotaging me. I think he went in there with some sort of made-up story about my incompetence so I’d be sure not to get the manager position,” said Mary. A vein pulsed on the side of her forehead at the memory.
I said slowly, “That must have made you furious.”
Mary said, “I was livid. I’d worked really hard there and finally had an opportunity to advance. It’s not a big firm, but it’s well-respected enough that people come from other towns. And the employees stay there forever, so there hadn’t been any chance to move up the ladder with the managers sticking around until they retired.”
“You think you’d have gotten the manager position if Roger hadn’t persuaded them not to give it to you?”
“No question,” said Mary.
“Did you quit because of that? Did you end up so angry with the company that you decided to work somewhere else entirely?” I asked curiously. Because it seemed like a strange thing to do. Wouldn’t it have been better to simply suck it up and stay at the same place, making a better salary?
Mary shrugged again, not seeming eager to give her reasons behind her current employment. “Let’s just say I didn’t leave as much as I was forced out.”
“Just the same, I’d think you’d still be furious,” I said. “You said you were livid before and I wouldn’t think it would get easier over time.”
Mary said, “My mother always said to let bygones be bygones. I managed to let it go.” But there was a glitter in her eyes that made me think maybe she wasn’t as laid-back about Roger’s interference in her promotion as she seemed.
I changed tack. “The police didn’t seem to have a lot of information about what happened. I didn’t see anything that would help them out, either. I wish I had.” I paused, hoping Mary would chime in with information of her own.
But Mary immediately shook her head. “I didn’t see anything either. I was stuck here working an evening shift yesterday. People like to come after work to do their tanning, so I’m frequently here.”
I nodded. Then I said, “I guess I’m just really curious because I was supposed to go on a date with the guy. I can’t help but wonder what happened to him and why.”
Mary said, “Look, I get it. That’s human nature, right? You’re curious. But here’s the deal: Roger was a miserable person. Like I said, you had a lucky escape. In my opinion, Roger was a real snake in the grass. Here’s how I think the first date would have gone—he’d have charmed you to death.”
This wasn’t what I’d expected her to say. “He would have?”
“Right. He was good at that. So, he’d have been engaging in really interesting conversation and given you a number of cool stories about his life. Maybe they’d even have been made up, but they’d all have served the purpose to be charming,” said Mary. “He’d have tried to suck you in.”
“And then?” I asked, curious in spite of myself. I didn’t particularly like how Mary assumed I could be easily sucked in.
“Then, later, after you two had an established relationship, the real Roger would have started slipping out through the cracks. The guy who was ridiculously ambitious and greedy and self-centered and irresponsible and not there for his family. Everything was about Roger,” said Mary.
I nodded, hoping she’d continue ranting about Roger because I was getting a better picture of him—or at least, her perspective of him. “What were you saying about his family? I know he had a sister.”
Mary rolled his eyes. “Oh, he wasn’t even nice to his family. I know his sister couldn’t stand him.”
“Really?” That’s certainly not the impression Heather had given when she was talking like a devoted sister.
“Really. I don’t know all the details, mind you. Only that he’d get into shouting matches with her in the office . . . he’d have to walk out to continue the argument because it would get too heated. No, he was just useless all around,” said Mary.
“Do you think someone in his family could be responsible?” I asked.
Mary held up a hand. “Now, like I say, I don’t know all the details. Just that he didn’t get along with some of his family. I’m not saying they were out to kill him. No, if someone wanted to kill him, I’d put my money on this one guy.”
At this point, the bell on the door rang, and a woman came in for tanning. Mary signed her in and took her to the back while I waited impatiently for her to return and tell me who she thought might be angry enough at Roger to kill him. Besides, my lunch hour was rapidly running out.
Mary returned and frowned. “What was I saying?”
“That you’d put money on somebody to have murdered Roger. Some guy.”
Mary snapped her fingers. “That’s right. There was this investor who followed Roger’s advice. Roger could really lay it on when he recommended investments, but like I said, he wasn’t great at his job.”
“So he recommended some investments that didn’t perform well?” I asked.
“Exactly. Roger always made them sound like the best thing since ice cream. He was a great salesman, I have to admit. Or maybe just a good actor. He’d start telling someone about something he knew about that was too good to be true. Of course, later it would end up it was too good to be true. Roger would play it up like he was doing the client a favor, and they’d always go for it.”
“How did those investments end up working out?” I asked.
Mary shrugged. “They’d work out on a range from mediocre to appalling. But you’ve got to understand most people never really even check their investments much. They could be bleeding cash and be tied up in all kinds of high fees and they never know it because they never take a look. Anyway, this older guy was different. Sharp as a tack, I think. He followed Roger’s advice and lost a ton of money. Apparently, he’d put a lot of his retirement savings into those investments and he was not young,” said Mary.
“But isn’t that the nature of investing?” I asked with a frown. Besides a few piddly retirement investments, I wasn’t exactly playing the stock market. “Don’t you assume there’s some risk involved?”
“Sure, but sometimes there’s more risk involved than others. And usually you choose less-risky investments when you’re closer to retirement age. And Roger always oversold everything he dealt with. He made everything sound like something too good to pass up. This guy should have been advised to put his money in something safe, not some risky get-rich-quick scheme,” said Mary.
“Do you remember who the investor was?” I asked.
Mary said, “Well, usually we wouldn’t give out that kind of information since financial-related stuff is private. But seeing as how I got shafted at the firm, I can tell you the investor was Nathan Richardson.”
My heart sank. I was hoping the ‘elderly investor’ was someone else, instead of my former professor.
“You know him?” asked Mary, eyes narrowed.
“I do. Poor guy. I didn’t realize that had happened to him,” I said slowly.
“That’s pretty amazing, considering the fact the guy talks about it to just about everyone,” said Mary dryly. “For a while he was threatening to sue the firm. He wouldn’t have gotten far, of course, considering we all know investments come with a certain amount of risk attached.”
I said, “I’m kind of surprised, though, that the investment firm didn’t fire Roger over something like this. It sounds as if he was really imprudent in the way he advised Nathan.”
Mary shrugged. “That’s what I’m saying. Roger could get away with murder. The upper-management probably discounted the older guy’s complaints.”
“They shouldn’t have done that. Nathan is incredibly bright and well-spoken,” I said.
“Well, that’s clearly what they did. And then Roger probably talked his way out of getting any kind of reprimand by misrepresenting what he told his investor,” said Mary.
The door chimed again and Mary gave me an impatient look.
I raised my brochure. “Thanks again for the information . . . and for the talk.”
She didn’t answer. She was already chatting to the customer.
Chapter Seven
THE LIBRARY WAS BUSTLING when I returned. I checked in on Luna, who gave me a thumbs-up from the children’s section where she was expertly giving advice to a mom who wanted to find books similar to the Harry Potter series. I could hear Luna’s animated voice as she compared Percy Jackson and the Olympians and the Ranger’s Apprentice series with the Harry Potter books.
I still had a few minutes left on my lunch hour, so I headed to the lounge to check on the orange cat and to finish off the last few bites of my lunch. As soon as I opened the door, he made a trilling noise and jumped to his feet to wind himself lovingly around my legs.
I sat on the floor and he crawled into my lap, bumping his head against my neck. “What a sweetie,” I said to him, rubbing him under his neck as his whiskers quivered with delight. “We’re going to come up with a great name for you so we don’t have to keep calling you orange cat.”
The cat pulled his head back to stare piercingly at me with his beautiful green eyes. It was almost as if he knew what I was saying. For the next few minutes, I sat with him and loved on him and felt my stress level plummet. He really was the sweetest cat ever. Then, I gave him a final rub and got to my feet to finish off my lunch. He watched me intently as I finished my grapes. I looked in the bag of supplies that the storytime mom had dropped off for the cat. Sure enough, she’d forgotten nothing. I pulled out a bag of cat treats and gave him a few.
Remembering Wilson’s edict to set up a cat naming contest, I pulled out my phone and took a few pictures of the orange cat who was now lying on his back and grinning lazily up at my phone, I picked the best one and made up a quick flyer on the breakroom computer, then printed copies and put them all over the library to advertise our ‘name the cat’ contest. I put it on all the library social media sites, too.
Then I figured I could use the cat to announce the self-defense class. Not that one had anything to do with the other, and it was a totally gratuitous use of the cat, but a cute picture might get in front of more patrons on social media than otherwise. The orange cat was now dozing, snoring lightly, and I took a picture and posted the self-defense class info with a header saying “Don’t be caught napping! Learn self-defense moves on Monday with Whitby’s new sheriff!” I made a face. It was corny, but maybe it would get some shares. The cat looked adorable after all.
Once I left the breakroom, I helped a patron figure out how to find some genealogical information on her family and she was pleased to find out how much information was available online (and for free). Then a patron asked me to help her set up a new email address because her old one was overrun with spam. I showed her how to send a group email to let all of her contacts know about the email address change. I shelved some books, added books that had been requested by patrons to the holds shelf, and then talked with some folks who were coming up with names for the cat. So far, we seemed overrun with Kitty, Max, Milo, Tigger, and Felix. It was a good thing it was a contest and not a vote. The mild-mannered orange cat wouldn’t be the type to mind any name, but I kind of hoped for something more original for him.
Finally, there was a lull in the library while the patrons
were all focused on the book, periodical, or computer they were looking at. Luna walked up to me.
“How’s it going?” I asked. For me, first days had always been stressful. But Luna looked as comfortable as if she’d been in the Whitby Library all of her life.
“It’s great. I love the patrons here. The parents have been terrific and the kids have been adorable. I felt good about helping them find a new series or picture books and the library has an awesome collection, just like you said. I’m looking forward to the storytime this afternoon,” said Luna.
“Good,” I said. “Do you have any questions for me at all?”
She grinned at me. “As a matter of fact, I do. What’s the status of the orange cat? I saw he and Wilson were looking very cozy with each other in the breakroom.”
I grinned back at her. “Apparently, we now have ourselves a library cat.”
Luna gave a whoop. “I hoped so! I spotted one of your flyers and thought it would stink if we had to give him away after coming up with a name for him. That’s awesome! That cat could win anybody over.”
“Now we just have to figure out a name for him,” I said dryly.
Luna asked, “While you were out at lunch, did you hear any news updates? You know, about your date?”
I said with a smile, “You’ve been away from Whitby for a while. We don’t really have that kind of news coverage here. It’s definitely going to make the newspaper, but it’s not on radio or TV or anything.”
“Oh, right.” Luna made a face. “I’m just curious.”
I glanced around, but no one was within earshot or needed help. I said, “But I did go to the salon where Mary, Roger’s former coworker works.”
Luna’s eyes opened wide. “Find out anything?”
“She definitely wasn’t happy with Roger, that’s for sure. She admitted she felt he’d cut her out of a promotion, although she was a little cagier about how she ended up at the tanning salon. But she says she was working at the time Roger would have been murdered, so I suppose she has an alibi.”
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