I’d decided on a burger and fries. In a place like Quittin’ Time, it was best to stick with the specialties of the house.
Later on, when I got back home, I let myself in my house and sighed in relief at being there. I put my takeaway bag in the fridge, figuring I could eat the rest of it tomorrow for lunch. The hamburgers at Quittin’ Time were the size of giant pancakes.
Although I never really found the library very stressful, I’d learned it was good for me to have clear boundaries and markers as to what constituted home life and work. I turned on some soft jazz music to tell myself it was time to relax. Then I poured a glass of wine and picked up my book. Finally, I had a chance to finish reading The Alchemist. I’d thought I’d have finished up days ago, which just goes to show how crazy the last few days had been.
I finished the book in no time and then pulled out my computer to pull up my reading log and record my thoughts about the book while it was fresh in my mind. I liked to have a variety of books to read because I had a variety of patrons and was regularly asked what I’d enjoyed reading lately. As usual I wryly realized my nerdiness over books was likely another reason why I wasn’t in a relationship. Sometimes I felt like I was in such a major relationship with books that there wasn’t a lot of room for anything else.
The only problem was I didn’t have anything next on my list I could immediately jump into. Then I remembered the reason I didn’t was because I was going to try to read a new release next. I listened to a couple of book-related podcasts for readers and jotted down notes on different options, making a list of books to look up the next day.
Then I glanced at my clock and blinked at the time. How had it ended up being after midnight? This shocked me enough to hurry through the motions of getting ready for bed. I guess I’d started everything late, considering I’d had to close up the library for the night. I hadn’t looked at the time once since then and I had the feeling I’d be regretting it the next morning. I regretted it earlier than that when nightmares woke me up again.
When the alarm went off, I awakened, super-groggy. Regardless, I took the time to stretch for a few minutes as a warmup. I got showered and dressed really quickly so I could have a decent breakfast instead of just a granola bar. Luckily, I had enough time to make a breakfast sandwich of avocado, Ranch dressing, sliced hard-boiled egg, and some thin provolone cheese. In the final remaining minutes, I hastily pulled out my leftovers from the night before and threw in a banana. It was a weird combination, but at least I shouldn’t be hungry.
I managed to get to the library right on time, although usually I arrived there so early that today I felt late. I ended up entering with some patrons who were quietly waiting in line for the doors to open.
“Late night?” murmured Wilson, raising an eyebrow.
I snorted. “Yes, but not like you think. This late night involved finishing a book and finding another to read.”
“Exciting stuff,” he said wryly.
I was surprised to see that my famously private patron, Linus Truman, was entering the library with me. Usually he came a bit later in the morning. Maybe Luna had really shaken him up and he was abandoning his routine.
A minute later, I was even more startled when he responded to me when I told him good morning. Now seriously unnerved, I watched him until he settled down in his usual spot with the newspaper. It was good to see not everything had been completely turned on its head.
Luna was in bright and early this morning. What was more, she had her mother with her. I greeted the lady, and she gave me a tight smile in return as she pushed her walker grimly ahead of her.
Luna carefully got her mother set up in the comfy chairs in the periodical section. She walked over to the magazines and peered at them for a few moments before hesitantly pulling out a few and putting them on the table next to the chair. Then she plugged in her mother’s laptop and cell phone and handed her mother the knitting she was working on.
“Mercy!” said Mrs. Macon crisply. “I don’t need as much stuff to do as you think! I told you I’m only spending a little while here.”
Luna’s voice was surprisingly meek. “I know, Mama. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable and have everything within reach. If you need me, just text me—don’t try to get up and walk over to the children’s section. I’ll be right over.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” said her mom shortly. She picked up her knitting pointedly.
Luna sidled up to me and said in a low voice, “She’s kind of a bear this morning, but I got her here.”
“Good,” I replied fervently. “Maybe a change of scene will do her good.”
“It sure can’t hurt,” said Luna. Then she paused. “Unless she’s so miserable that she decides never to leave her house again.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. Did you mention the film club to her?”
Luna grimaced. “I did. I think her response was harrumph. I’ll be surprised if she goes. But she knows the time and the location, just in case.”
A little later that morning, my old professor, Nathan, walked into the library and right up to me at the desk.
“Good to see you this morning, Nathan,” I said, smiling at him.
He smiled back. “Yes, I thought I’d just check out a couple of books on gardening. I’m going to expand my garden and wanted some fresh ideas.”
“It’s hard to imagine you don’t already know everything there is to know about gardening in this area,” I said. Nathan had created a beautiful garden at his old house—with beautiful shrubbery and flowers and a vegetable garden, to boot. His wife had also been a gardening enthusiast. “In fact, I was going to ask you some questions about what to add to my garden. All I’ve been doing lately is just keeping up with the weeds and watering the plants. My great-aunt was such a genius with gardening and I don’t want to destroy her legacy.”
“From what I’ve seen, I think you’re doing a fine job keeping all her plants in good health. How about if I come by the house one day soon and take a look at your yard? I can’t remember off the top of my head what you’ve already got planted and how much sun and shade you have,” he offered.
“Sounds good,” I said with a smile. “I could really use the advice. I owe you one.”
“No, we’re even. Remember, you paid for the Chinese food the other day.”
I said, “Somehow I don’t think that’s still even. But thank you.”
I expected Nathan to give me a friendly goodbye and then head off to the stacks to find the books. But this time he hesitated.
“Anything else you’re looking for?” I asked.
He said with a rueful smile, “I was actually curious to hear how the case was going. Have you spoken to Chief Edison lately? The more I think about Roger, the more I feel sort of sorry for him.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Sorry for him? After what happened?”
“Yeah, but let’s face it—I could have tracked that stock a little better on my end. And I didn’t have to be such a trusting schmuck, either. Besides, he was a young man with his whole life ahead of him. What happened to him was a real travesty,” said Nathan.
I said slowly, “It’s been a crazy couple of days. I received this letter at the library, warning me off from poking around in Roger’s death.”
“What?” Nathan’s eyebrows shot up and then knit together as he glowered at the very idea of someone threatening me.
I told him what had arrived. “It didn’t really bother me, except to tell me someone seemed to think I might be dangerous to them.” Nathan still looked worried and so I tacked on, “Besides, I’d just had that self-defense course from the chief himself.”
“Well, that makes me feel slightly better,” he said.
I filled him in on some of what we’d learned. “It was a successful class. I wasn’t sure how many attendees we were going to have since Whitby seems like such a small, safe place. But we had enough that I’m going to ask the chief to repeat the class
again.”
Nathan said, “Maybe the fact that there was a murder here drove the number of attendees up.”
“That’s true. And now there have been two murders, so . . .” I saw Nathan’s look of surprise and said, “Oh, you didn’t know about Mary.”
“Not Mary Hughes! We were just talking about her.”
Chapter Sixteen
I SAID, “I’M AFRAID so. I got confirmation from Burton that it was definitely murder.”
“But why would anyone do such a thing? Could it possibly be a coincidence? Could she have someone in her life who wanted to do away with her and just chose this time to do that?” asked Nathan.
I said, “It certainly seems like it must be connected in some way to Roger’s death. The only thing I can think of is that she knew something about who might be responsible for his murder.”
Nathan said, “And then she tried blackmailing this person?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. I spoke with a woman Mary worked with, and she said Mary had hit a rough patch, financially speaking. It could be that she tried to use what she’d seen or knew about to pressure someone into giving her money,” I said.
“And that person thought it would be more expedient to get rid of her than to keep paying her,” said Nathan.
“And possibly more and more as time went on,” I added.
Nathan said, “Ann, this is serious. Someone is getting shaken up.”
“Maybe that means I’m getting closer to the truth,” I said lightly. “Just like my mentor, Nancy Drew.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” said Nathan in a stubborn voice I’d never heard before. “Seriously. I think you should drop it. It’s less of a cerebral exercise and more dangerous than it was at the start. You’ve been threatened. There’s another life lost.”
I reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for looking out for me. I promise I’m not going to do anything stupid. You know how much I value my own safety. I’m just asking a few questions.”
Nathan sighed. “I didn’t think you’d do anything stupid. You’re a reference librarian. You’re too smart to be dumb.” He paused. “Well, if you insist on continuing to ask questions, let me go ahead and tell you what I was doing at the time Mary was murdered.”
“What were you doing?” I asked. I hoped he wouldn’t answer.
He grinned at me and I felt a sense of relief. “Trick question, right? I don’t know what time Mary was murdered because you didn’t tell me and I didn’t know about it.”
“It was first thing in the morning,” I said. “Mary was killed where she worked—at a tanning salon in town.”
Nathan said with a twinkle in his eye, “First off, I think somebody would notice if I walked into a tanning salon. I don’t fit the profile of their usual clients.”
I said, “I’d say that’s likely.”
“But I don’t have a great alibi since I didn’t realize I’d need one. I was probably either eating cornflakes or walking Mr. Henry,” said Nathan thoughtfully.
“Sounds likely,” I agreed.
He said, “I didn’t, naturally, really know Mary, and she never had anything to do with advising me. She never was familiar with my account. There’s just no reason why I’d want to do away with her.”
“And she never tried to blackmail you?” I asked lightly.
He flushed a little and then added ruefully, “Good point. I guess that was the direction we were going in, weren’t we? That she knew something about the murderer. No, I didn’t have any secret meetings with Mary where she tried blackmailing me.” He paused. “There is something I do know about Mary that might be of interest.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s actually more about Roger’s sister, Heather.”
I raised my eyebrows questioningly at him. “I didn’t realize the two of you knew each other.”
“It’s not really a matter of knowing each other. It’s more that she and I became acquainted when I would be out walking Mr. Henry. I’m something of a creature of habit and apparently Heather is on something of a tight schedule. It just so happened I would see her every day when I’d be out walking Mr. Henry. We’d chat a little about how handsome her little boy is and that sort of thing,” said Nathan.
“How did you find out about her connection to Roger?” I asked curiously. “That’s the kind of thing that doesn’t sound as if it would come up in the kind of small talk you’re making.”
Nathan said, “I actually didn’t know about it for a long time. Then I saw Roger getting out of his car one day and approaching Heather when she was about to leave for work. I was planning on warning her off the next day—I figured he was some sort of boyfriend or something. I thought I’d let her know he was bad news.”
I said ruefully, “Did you? I bet that was awkward.”
“Fortunately, Heather clued me in before it got far. I’d said something the next morning like, ‘Say, was that Roger Walton I saw here yesterday?’ And she’d quickly made a face and said, ‘Yes, he’s my brother.’ And then I could manage a very pleasant smile and say I hadn’t realized they were related and that I’d known Roger through his work.”
I asked, “And how does Heather factor into Mary’s death?”
Nathan said hastily, “I don’t know if she does. I’ll say that right up front. But I did see Mary at Heather’s house just a few days ago. Mr. Henry and I were actually just a few minutes late because he’d found something particularly interesting to sniff and I didn’t want to drag him away.”
“What did you see?” I asked.
“Heather looked angry,” said Nathan with a shrug. “Now I sort of feel as if I’m throwing her under the bus. But Mary was standing there with a self-satisfied expression on her face and Heather’s face was flushed and furious. She looked as if she were on the verge of tears, so I didn’t wave or try to visit. I’m not sure what was going on. I wouldn’t have said those two would even really know each other. Unfortunately, that’s all the information I have. I don’t know what they were talking about.”
I hesitated and then said, “Nathan, I do have one thing to ask you about. When I spoke to Mary at the salon, she mentioned you had been really upset about the financial setback you had when Roger gave you bad advice.”
Nathan sighed. “Well, that sounds about right. I wasn’t happy, that’s for sure.”
“She said you’d really blown your top.” I paused. “It just surprised me because I remember how calm you were in the classroom. No matter what was going on, you always were able to keep your cool.”
Nathan replied, “That’s a different situation. That was my job, and I worked for years to keep myself unruffled even when a student provoked me. No, I’m afraid patience is not one of my virtues. I’ve worked most of my life trying to make myself a more patient person. Although I’m proud I was able to accomplish this at work, I’m still trying to master it on a personal level. I’m afraid that, at this point in my life, it’s a lost cause.”
I said lightly, “I wasn’t even aware you have a bad temper. You must be doing a better job than you give yourself credit for.”
With perfect timing, Fitz hopped up on the counter in front of me. He purred and turned his green eyes on Nathan.
Nathan chuckled. “This must be the young fella you were telling me about. Fitz?”
He reached out a hand and Fitz raised his chin to allow himself to be scratched.
“He’s fast on his way to being spoiled rotten,” I said ruefully. “But he doesn’t act it. He’s just super-sweet.”
“How is he fitting in here?” asked Nathan.
“Like he’s always lived here. Like it’s home. He doesn’t try to get out when the doors open. He’s friendly to everyone, but doesn’t seem like he tries to force his attentions on people who aren’t interested, either. And he’s been amazing so far in the children’s section. Luna pointed out that there were children reading to him while he lay in their laps and purred.” I snapped my fing
ers. “Actually, I’m supposed to be catching Fitz at particularly adorable times and taking a picture.”
“For posting online?” Nathan rubbed Fitz’s back, and the cat gave him a loving look.
“Mainly for a calendar. It’s supposed to act as a fundraiser for Fitz’s care and feeding,” I said.
Nathan pulled his phone out. “I saw something earlier today you should probably see.”
He fiddled with his phone for a minute or so and then handed it over to me. It was one of the library’s social media sites and there were people commenting on our last post—a post that had a picture of one of our computers and was promoting a basic computer lesson here. The comments were all along the lines of ‘where’s Fitz in these pictures?’
I chuckled. “All right. Well, I guess the good news is that Fitz is popular. The bad news is that run-of-the-mill photos of computers aren’t going to cut it anymore.”
Nathan said, “Just think of it as a way to ensure your programs get more shares. If you had a great picture of Fitz sitting in the chair in front of the computer, the post probably would have gone viral.”
We smiled over that and then Nathan’s face grew more serious again. “You promise you’re not going to take any chances?”
“I promise,” I said.
After Nathan left me to find his books, I did spend the next forty-five minutes following Fitz around. I didn’t plan on it taking that long because I figured Fitz would simply find a good napping location and that would be the end of it.
Instead, Fitz took me on an unexpected journey that led me to the fireplace in the reading area. Fitz rolled on his back and looked fetching as I scattered a few books around him in the background, in the children’s area where he curled up with a stuffed version of Clifford the Big Red Dog and purred as kids rubbed him, and deep in the nonfiction stacks where he hopped on a shelf and playfully looked down at me. I hurried to the breakroom and brought back a cat toy that was a fishing pole with a feather hanging on a string that Lisa the storytime mom had bought. Fitz obligingly played with it in an adorable fashion. I felt as though we should have enough material for at least a few months of the calendar and for a few social media posts, too.
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