Then I watched as Fitz, apparently worn out from all of his cuteness, wandered into the periodical section. He walked over to Mrs. Macon’s chair and put his paws up on the chair without jumping. Luna’s mom glanced down, smiled the first smile I’d seen since she came in, and patted her lap. Fitz curled up in her lap and fell immediately asleep as Mrs. Macon rubbed him and closed her own eyes.
Luna walked up to check in on her mom and I put a finger to my lips, gesturing at Fitz and her mother.
“She actually looks peaceful,” said Luna in amazement. “Ever since I’ve come home, her face has been creased with worry, even when she sleeps. Fitz is a miracle worker.” She clamped her hand to her mouth. “I better not say anything more, or I’ll jinx it. By the way, I’ve been looking for you.”
“Sorry—I’ve been getting precious pictures of Fitz for the calendar Wilson wants. What’s up?”
Luna said, “I was picking up some food for Mama and me when I saw something interesting.”
We paused while a patron asked me where the card catalog was. We hadn’t had one in ages, but we still got requests. I showed her how to find books on the library computer and then joined Luna again. “What did you see?”
“Our favorite local physician was out grabbing lunch, too. But again, he was approached by someone in the community. Looks like the poor guy just can’t catch a break in Whitby,” drawled Luna.
I said, “Yeah, doctors in this town sort of stand out since there aren’t that many of them. So, this was Kenneth Driscoll?”
“Exactly. There was this woman, older than you and younger than me, who was trying to get his attention,” said Luna.
“What, like rudely? Or calling out to him?” I asked.
“Like rudely. She was being very loud and not caring who might have been turning around to look. Like me,” said Luna.
“Was she mad?”
Luna grinned, showing off a gold tooth. “Mad as a wet hen. Told our Dr. Driscoll that he should take a little more care in checking his messages and replying back to patients.”
“I’m sure he liked that advice,” I said with a smile tugging at my lips. “What was she trying to get in touch with him about? Did she give any lurid details? Waiting on test results for her bloodwork?”
Luna glanced around them and leaned in to say in a hushed tone, “It sounded more like she was having an affair with Dr. Driscoll.” She raised her eyebrows for emphasis.
I blinked at her. “Really? That would be tough to get away with here. I feel like all eyes are on the doctor all the time.”
“And he’s married?” asked Luna.
“Most definitely.”
“Maybe that was the thrill of it—trying to get away with something that would be tough to get away with,” said Luna with a shrug.
The library was quiet, and I moved to sit behind the reference desk. “I’m going to look him up.”
Luna grinned at me. “That’s my girl. Although I somehow don’t think his affair is going to show up on Google.”
“No. But if he has secrets, maybe I don’t really know all that much about him. Maybe none of us do. We just see good old Dr. Driscoll whenever we have a problem and we expect everything about him to be the same.”
Luna asked, “What do you know about him?”
“Honestly? Not much. All I know is that he seems good at his job. But what do I know about medical stuff? And he seems really arrogant. But why wouldn’t he be when he has such an important position in such a small town?” I asked as I scanned the results of his name online. I peered closely at the computer and said slowly, “Well, this is interesting.”
“What’s that? The good doctor sings drunken karaoke a couple of towns over?” asked Luna with a chuckle.
“No. But the good doctor had a malpractice suit or two against him,” I said. I read on for a few moments. “It looks to me like he ran into trouble in Georgia, picked up stakes, got licensed in North Carolina, and then started working here.”
Luna said, “I don’t think that’s illegal or anything, is it? Unless he’s been barred from practicing medicine.”
“I don’t see any sign of that here. In which case, that would be illegal. But from what I see here, it looks like he’s run into some problems before. I’d think he wouldn’t want any more trouble of any kind,” I said.
“Like an inappropriate relationship with a patient?” asked Luna, nodding her head.
“Exactly.”
Luna nodded. “Got it. Okay, I’ve got to run—the storytime is about to start. Just . . . that’s food for thought, isn’t it?”
“It surely is,” I said.
That evening I closed up again and then hopped in my old Subaru. The gas gauge was pretty low, and I sighed. Sometimes, with everything else going on, the car was one of the last things on my mind. But I sure wouldn’t be in good shape if anything happened to it. I drove to the gas station.
And, wouldn’t you know it, Kenneth Driscoll was there. It seemed he was getting out and about from the office fairly regularly these days. Although, to be fair, it was dark outside now.
I started filling up my car, watching as he put the gas cap on his high-end Lexus and walked inside the station. I was debating whether I wanted to go ahead and approach him again after having had something of a contentious conversation while he was volunteering at the library. As I was considering this, another car drove up in a hurry.
A woman with blonde hair in an artful hairdo, hopped out of her sedan. She strode over to the doctor’s Lexus, car keys firmly in hand, and then dug her key into the side of the car and scratched the black paint all the way from the front of the car to the tail end. Admiring her handiwork, she then walked to the other side of the car and repeated the process. “That’ll teach you to dump me,” she hissed in a satisfied voice.
Chapter Seventeen
I DIDN’T SAY A WORD. This woman didn’t look as if she was in the mood to be messed with, and I certainly had no protective feelings for the doctor.
Without even a glance to see where the physician was or if he was approaching, the woman hopped back into her modest sedan and sped off.
I winced. I had the feeling Dr. Driscoll wasn’t going to be very happy to see this. From what I could tell, he took very good care of the car.
The door to the gas station opened, and the doctor appeared, grasping a soft drink. He gaped at his car and then glanced over at me.
I raised my hands. “I had nothing to do with that. But I saw who did.”
Dr. Driscoll tightened his lips together and gave a curt nod. He ran a finger lightly over the damaged paint and then unlocked his car with his key fob.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I frowned at him. “Calling Chief Edison, of course. Your car was vandalized. I saw who was responsible, Dr. Driscoll.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said with a shrug.
“Of course it matters!” I said.
“Look, I don’t want to report it,” he snapped. Then he took a deep breath and started again. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to get the police involved, that’s all. It’s probably some patient who is upset I missed a diagnosis or something. Maybe she had to wait too long in the waiting room or the exam room one day. Or maybe she thinks her medical bills are too high.”
“And I didn’t say it was a she,” I noted coolly. “What’s more, she was talking to herself—something about you dumping her.”
He froze, giving me an icy look, and then slumped against the damaged car. “Okay, you’ve got me. It’s been a long day and I guess I’m not really thinking straight.” He glanced around him to make sure we were alone. “The thing is, this woman and I were in a relationship. She wants me to leave my wife. I never gave her any indication I wanted to do so or ever planned on doing so. And she . . . she won’t give up.”
“She’s stalking you?” I asked.
“Or something. It’s at the point where she’s
starting to even come by the house or sit outside. Our affair was a mistake and I don’t want my wife to find out. It would only deeply hurt and distress her, and there’s simply no reason to do that.” His words came out perfunctorily as if he’d either rehearsed them or had spoken them to his lover . . . or both.
I said slowly, “And Roger Walton knew about this.”
Kenneth Driscoll again froze. “What do you know about that?”
“Nothing. I didn’t even really know Roger. But I do know the kind of person he was, and I haven’t really gotten the greatest impression of him. I could totally see him trying to blackmail you over an affair. Although I’m not really sure how he would have found out about it,” I said.
Kenneth said, “Who knows? Who cares? He knew about it, and that was enough.”
I said, “Did you hear Mary Hughes has been murdered?”
His face was puzzled. “I have no idea who Mary Hughes is.”
I said, “She used to work with Roger. Now she’s dead.”
Kenneth Driscoll gave a short huff. “Well, I’m very sorry to hear that, but I certainly had nothing to do with it. I’m sure I don’t have any patients by that name, or any acquaintances. As small as Whitby is, there are still people here I don’t know. Why on earth would I want to kill someone I’ve never even met?”
I took a deep breath. “The thought is maybe Mary knew something about who murdered Roger.”
The doctor tilted his head to one side. “You’re thinking this Mary character saw or heard something about the previous murder. Then she blackmailed the perpetrator, and they decided to do away with her. Is that right?”
I nodded. “That’s the long and short of it.”
“Whoever she was, it sounds like she didn’t operate in a very smart way,” he said.
“How much did you want to cover up your involvement with the woman who just scratched up your car?” I asked.
“Not enough to kill two people over it!” The doctor scowled at me. “Look, I don’t really know who you are and I’m pretty sure you don’t know who I am. I spend the majority of my day, every day, trying to make people in this town feel better. I save lives, I don’t eliminate them.”
I gave him a tight smile. “I get it. Okay, thanks.”
I turned away to get in my car and he called out to me in a panicked voice, “Hey, what are you planning to do now?”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “I’m planning on getting in this car, heading home, and eating an uninspired supper of tuna salad unless I muster the energy to go to the grocery store. It’s been a long day.”
He glowered at me. “I mean what are you planning on doing with the information you’ve just found out?”
I snorted. “I’m not planning on blackmailing you over it, if that’s what you’re saying. I might only be a librarian, but I’m not desperate enough for cash to break the law.”
Dr. Driscoll seemed to relax slightly. Then he said, “But you’ll talk about it.”
“I’m not going to run to your wife and tell her about your affair, but I feel as though Chief Edison should know about it. Besides, I’m not the only person who knows. Someone else told me about an argument you’d had with this woman recently.” The last thing I needed was for him to think I was a threat to him: or, at least, the only threat.
He said impatiently, “But that’s only going to send him on a red herring! It’s going to distract him from finding the actual murderer. And he may ask questions that lead to my wife finding out about my affair.”
I said coolly, “If you’re concerned about your wife, perhaps that’s something you should have taken into account before you embarked on the affair.”
I got into my car, started it up, and drove away with the doctor staring after me with narrowed eyes.
The next morning when I arrived at the library, there was yet another letter waiting for me. Wilson made a face as soon as he spotted it.
“I’m calling the police,” he said grimly.
“I don’t think there’s anything Chief Edison can do,” I said. “He already knows about the first letter. It’s not as if I can have an armed guard around me twenty-four hours a day. Besides, I don’t really get the sense I’m in much danger.” I decided not to mention how freaked out I’d been both at home and at the library at night. That was simply my imagination working overtime.
Wilson frowned at me. “Why not? The letters sound serious.”
“The letters sound like someone is desperate but not brave enough to confront me in any way,” I said.
“Regardless, I’m calling the chief,” said Wilson briskly.
And in a testament to the size of the town, the chief was at the library in only seven or eight minutes.
I was checking out a patron’s books when he came in. Wilson said, “I’ll take this over. You and Ann can speak in the breakroom, Chief Edison.” He handed the policeman the letter, which he’d carefully wrapped in a tissue.
I sighed and led the chief to the back.
He and I sat down at the breakroom table and he skimmed the letter. “This is the second one you’ve received.”
“That’s right. It’s made my boss pretty unnerved, but I think it’s because it’s pulled the library into the whole mess. But then, after all, I’m here at the library most of the time,” I said.
Burton nodded. “I’ll take this with me, although I don’t have a lot of hope that we’ll find out who’s behind this. What this letter does make me think is that you’ve continued to try to get information about the two murders.”
“Guilty,” I said ruefully.
“I’m not going to tell you no. You’re a grown woman, after all, and you can assess your own risks. Just be careful. The last thing I need right now is another problem.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You’ve been busy?”
“Astoundingly, yes. Whitby has lots going on. I’d completely underestimated what I’d be dealing with here. I’d assumed this job would be a piece of cake after the last place I worked. Instead, there are all sorts of things going on that need addressing,” said Burton, sitting back in his chair, which groaned in protest.
“What kinds of things?” I asked curiously.
Burton started counting off all the local crime issues on his pudgy fingers. “Chronic shoplifting, car break-ins, speeders, domestic issues, and a fatal accident involving a tree.”
I frowned. “I had no idea. Of course, I knew about the accident, since that was big news. But not the rest of it.”
“Yes, poor Elsie Brennon,” said Burton, shaking his head. “That was pretty much my introduction to the town, too. You probably missed the other stories because you’ve been so wrapped up in these murders. You’ll see it all in the local paper—I know the library carries it.”
I nodded absently. “I’ll check them out. So, with all of that going on, have you found out anything more about either of the murders?”
“Nothing very big. And I feel like the residents are getting impatient about my making some progress. No one wants to think their town has a murderer running around it,” said Burton.
I said, “What makes you feel that way?”
“They’re asking me about it—all the time. Just like you just did,” said Burton. “The fact is, all I really know is Mary Hughes was the type of person you didn’t want to know your secrets. She liked to gossip and tell tales. What’s more, I found some evidence while searching her home and computer that she might be a blackmailer on top of it all.”
I said, “That definitely makes sense. Why else would someone want to kill Mary?”
Burton raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I asked myself. I looked into her family—and they weren’t really around anymore. Most of them were dead and the rest of the family she hadn’t been in touch with for years. She’d never been married. There didn’t seem to be a reason why anyone else would possibly want to murder her.”
We both thought about this for a moment until we were interrupted by the appearance of Fit
z. He rolled over on his back and looked fetchingly at Chief Edison.
Burton wasn’t convinced. “I’m not so sure about rubbing your tummy, buddy. I have the feeling you’d take my hand off.”
I laughed. “This cat is as mild-mannered as they come. But I’m with you—I’m not much of a belly rubber when it comes to cats. Maybe just tickle him under his chin.”
Burton delicately did this and chuckled when Fitz closed his eyes and started purring loudly. “Well, you sure do have a sweet cat, that’s for sure.” He paused and then asked casually, “Luna working today?”
“Yes, but she’s out for a little while. She needed to take her mother to an appointment.”
Burton nodded, but I saw the disappointment flash in his eyes.
I said lightly, “I don’t think I’ve even asked anything about yourself and how you came to be here. Do you have family nearby? What made you decide to move over to the big city of Whitby?”
“No family nearby,” he said. “I had much older parents, and I lost them both ten years ago. I was an only child, so no brothers or sisters, either.”
“Not married?” I asked. I was guessing the answer to the marriage question was a no, judging from his response to Luna, but you never knew.
“I was married a long time ago, but it didn’t go so well, unfortunately. We ended up going our separate ways. The divorce was my fault—I was spending a lot of hours on the job and not enough hours at home. That’s not an equation that really adds up to a successful relationship,” he said ruefully.
“Did you have children?” I asked.
“I have a son, but he lives on the west coast. I see him as much as I can and he flies over a few times a year. It’s not as often as we’d both like, but we keep in touch by phone and online. He’s a great kid.” He laughed. “Okay, so not really a kid—an adult. But he’s terrific.” He paused and then asked curiously, “And you don’t have a significant other? Not divorced?”
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