Books Can Be Deceiving

by Jenn McKinlay

  “It was a cold day outside,” Beth agreed. “He might have caught a chill otherwise.”

  “But why was he naked?” Tim asked.

  “He just forgot,” Lindsey said with a shrug.

  “His underwear?”

  “And pants,” Beth added. “Apparently, he was so eager to return his DVDs, so as not to get a fine, he just plain forgot.”

  “I had no idea libraries were so rich with characters,” Tim said. “I should bring my sketchpad and camp out.”

  “When you work with the public, you see all sorts of things,” Lindsey said.

  “Like Johnny, the transvestite with the broken heel,” Beth said. “Poor thing, he never could get a date with that hobbling walk of his.”

  Tim’s eyebrows lifted up on his forehead. “You’re teasing me.”

  “Nope,” they said together.

  “Don’t forget about poor Karen,” Lindsey said. “She’s a regular who flosses her teeth with her hair. It’s a nervous habit.”

  Tim looked at them as if he was trying to decide if they were messing with him or not.

  “Now back to Ernie Shadegg,” Lindsey said. “What can you tell us about him?”

  “Like I said, it was before my time here, but I got the feeling he had been a star student, loads of awards and accolades. Everyone expected really big things out of him. Word had it, he had tried to break into illustrating but had been unsuccessful.”

  “Was he teaching at the school? Is that why he was still in the area?” Beth asked.

  “No, I’m not sure why he was still here, other than he was still the big man on campus, and according to the people who knew him, he was arrogant enough to really like that.”

  “So, what happened to him?” Lindsey asked.

  “About five years ago, he just disappeared.”

  “Without a trace?”

  Tim nodded. “Thus, the legend.”

  Lindsey and Beth looked at each other. They, of course, knew what had happened to Ernie. He had moved to the Thumb Islands under the name Rick Eckman and gone on to be a renowned children’s book author.

  If being the big man on campus had been so important to him, it was hard for Lindsey to believe that he’d walk away from the bragging rights of his success. Unless, of course, there was a reason that he couldn’t brag, like maybe he had launched his new persona Rick Eckman with plagiarized work.

  “Is there anyone at the school who might still remember him?” Beth asked.

  “There are a few people on staff who knew him,” he said. “I’m sure they’d be happy to talk to you. But now it’s my turn to ask a question. Why are two librarians interested in a former student who disappeared years ago?”

  CHAPTER 25

  Lindsey and Beth exchanged yet another look. Lindsey was going to leave it up to Beth. He had been her boyfriend, after all.

  “We think we know where he’s been for the past five years,” she said. “In fact, we’re sure of it. He’s been living under the assumed name Rick Eckman on an island off of Briar Creek. It’s about an hour down the shore from here.”

  “Really?” he asked. “That’s extraordinary. In this day of computers, you’d think it’d be impossible to disappear.”

  Lindsey pulled the school photo out of her purse. “Can you tell if this picture was taken here?”

  Tim studied it for a moment and said, “Wow, this is disturbing.”

  “Because it was taken on campus?” Lindsey asked.

  “Well, that, and because I know two of the people in the picture with him,” he said. He shook his head and flipped over the photograph. “How old is this?”

  “Almost ten years, I think,” Lindsey said. “It looks as if he was still a student.”

  “I never knew that he and Sydney were a couple,” Tim said. “Man, they look so young.”

  “He and Sydney were a couple?” Beth asked. “I assumed he was dating the one that he has his arm around.”

  “Yes, that’s Sydney Carlisle,” Tim said. “She’s very active in the alumni association. A powerhouse of an editor in New York; she brings in a lot of money.”

  “I think you’re mistaken,” Lindsey said. She rose from the couch and looked over his shoulder. “Sydney is the one off on the right with the weird look on her face.”

  “No, that’s Astrid Blunt,” Tim said. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Who?” Beth and Lindsey asked together.

  “Professor Blunt,” Tim said, with more than a trace of dislike flavoring his words. “She’s a professor here, has been for years.”

  “But . . .” Beth began, but Lindsey cut her off. “Do you think you could tell us where to find her?”

  Tim checked his watch. “I have just enough time before my next class.”

  They followed him out of his office and back down the stairs to the art rooms below.

  Tim stopped and tried a door at the end of the hall, but it was locked. He frowned and checked his watch again. “She should be here. She’s supposed to have a class right now.”

  “This can’t be good,” Beth said. Her eyes searched the cavernous hallway as if expecting the woman they knew as Sydney but who was actually Astrid to leap out from any corner.

  Lindsey blew out a breath. She met Beth’s gaze and realized she was coming to the same conclusion that she had. Astrid had come to Briar Creek and posed as Sydney Carlisle. The question was why? What had she hoped to gain?

  Lindsey thought about the picture. Rick, or rather Ernie, had his arm around Sydney Carlisle. They looked to be the picture of a young, happy couple. But something must have happened for Ernie to change his name to Rick and completely disappear from his alma mater. The fact that Sydney went on to be a successful children’s book editor, Rick’s editor in fact, and then Rick suddenly changed his name and won a Caldecott made Lindsey suspect that the two of them had done something irrevocable. Something that would cause someone to hate them so much that he or she would murder them. Lindsey felt a shiver run down her spine.

  “We think Astrid killed Rick Eckman—your Ernie Shadegg—and Sydney Carlisle as well,” Lindsey said.

  “Sydney?” Tim asked. “What do you mean?”

  “Sydney is dead,” Lindsey said. “She was killed in a train accident.”

  “That we’re not so sure was an accident,” Beth said.

  “No! Meek, little Astrid?” he asked. He shook his head and said, “No, I just can’t see it.”

  “The photograph,” Beth said. “Where’s the photo?”

  “Oh, nuts. I left it up in my office,” Tim said.

  “She can’t get her hands on that. It’s evidence,” Beth said. Her voice had risen to a frantic pitch.

  “It’s okay,” Tim said. He put his hand on her arm in reassurance, but Beth was so jittery, she jumped at the contact. “I’ll jog up and get it.”

  He turned and took the stairs two at a time. Lindsey and Beth moved across the hall, away from Astrid’s classroom. Students were milling around the locked door, obviously wondering why they hadn’t heard that their class had been canceled. Lindsey wondered why Astrid wasn’t here. If they were right and she had killed Ernie and Sydney, had she gone into hiding? She hated to admit it, but a small part of her was relieved not to have to face the woman. The whole situation was beginning to give her the creeps.

  Other classes were starting now, and students were moving through the halls. Most carried heavy black art portfolios as well as backpacks. They all looked freshly scrubbed and innocent, with their lives ahead of them, the path uncharted.

  Lindsey thought she’d feel envious of their freedom but was surprised that, instead, she was looking forward to her life in Briar Creek. She was settled, and she was happy about it.

  She glanced up the stairs, hoping to see Tim returning. But there was no sign of him. She turned to suggest to Beth that they go upstairs when the noisy chatter of the students was interrupted by a sharp bang and a second later by a scream.

  Everyone froze in place.
It was Beth who moved first, dashing toward the stairs, yelling at students to get out of the building. As students poured toward the exits, Lindsey and Beth fought their way back up to Tim’s office.

  An apple-cheeked student stood in the doorway. Her hand was pressed over her mouth, and her eyes were huge. Beth reached her first. “Are you okay?”

  The girl pointed into the office. “Professor Cushion.”

  Lindsey pushed around them and stumbled into the room. Tim was lying on the floor. A red rose of blood was blooming on his shoulder. Lindsey grabbed the bathrobe he’d been wearing earlier and stuffed it against the wound, trying to staunch the flow.

  “Tim, can you hear me?” she asked.

  His face was taut, and his eyes were glazed. He started to shiver, and Lindsey suspected he was going into shock.

  “Call an ambulance!” she yelled at Beth, but Beth already had her phone to her ear and was giving information to the emergency dispatcher.

  An ambulance with two EMTs arrived within minutes. They took Tim’s vitals and whisked him out of the building on a stretcher as if they were in a race against death. This did not comfort Lindsey, as she suspected that was exactly the race they were in.

  It was only after Tim was taken away, and the campus police were clearing the building, that Lindsey thought to look for the photo they had left behind, but the table where Tim had put it was bare.

  “Please tell me it isn’t our fault that Tim Cushion was shot.”

  “How is that our fault?” Lindsey asked.

  “We show him a photo, he identifies someone we thought was someone else and then winds up shot,” Beth said. Her voice held a note of hysteria. “This Astrid person is here. She’s following us. She knows what we’re doing, and she’s going to kill anyone we come into contact with. We have to tell the police.”

  Lindsey grabbed Beth’s shoulders and forced her to look at her. “Beth, Tim is going to be okay. Now we have to calm down and think.”

  “I can’t think,” Beth protested. “Lindsey, I’m scared.”

  Lindsey nodded. She was, too. “The campus police told us it would just be a few minutes before they interview us,” she said. “We just have to wait a few more minutes, and then we can tell them everything. It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.”

  They were standing outside the arts building, which had been cordoned off by yellow “Crime Scene Do Not Cross” tape, amid a swarm of students. The day had become overcast and cold, and Lindsey shivered in her hooded sweatshirt and wished she’d worn a warmer jacket.

  The police had questioned the young woman who had found Professor Cushion and were now moving through the crowd asking whether anyone had seen or heard anything suspicious. The head of campus security had asked Lindsey and Beth to wait, as the police wanted to conduct a lengthier interview with them, so they stood cooling their heels, literally, while they waited for him to get to them.

  “I’m freezing,” Beth said. “Do you suppose we could run to the car, so I could get my coat?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Lindsey said. “It looks like this is going to take a while.”

  They headed down the walkway to the Buick. It was easy to spot with its white top and olive body, and Lindsey longed to climb in and crank the heater. She unlocked the passenger door so that Beth could retrieve her jacket.

  Once she’d locked the car again, they turned back to the building. The crowd was finally showing signs of thinning. They’d only gone a few steps when a woman wearing a New London School of Design sweatshirt stepped out from behind the directory.

  With her brown hair in a ponytail and her face scrubbed clean of makeup, it took Lindsey a second to place her. It was a second too long.

  “Sydney,” Beth breathed from beside her.

  “No,” Lindsey said. “Astrid. Astrid Blunt.”

  CHAPTER 26

  “Move back to the car,” Astrid ordered. “And don’t do anything stupid. As you know, I will use this.”

  She pointed a small handgun out of her sleeve, and Lindsey assumed it was the same gun she’d used to shoot Tim.

  Together, she and Beth backtracked to the car.

  With shaky hands, Lindsey unlocked the doors. She had the irrational thought that she should be able to overpower Astrid and wrestle her to the ground, but the lethal-looking weapon the other woman carried made her pause. What if an innocent bystander got hurt? She couldn’t risk it.

  “You drive,” Astrid said to Lindsey. “And I want your hands where I can see them, at ten and two on the wheel.”

  Lindsey slid into the driver’s seat. Beth went to get into the back, but Astrid stopped her, pushing her forward.

  “Oh, no, I want you in front with your hands on the dashboard.”

  Astrid climbed into the backseat and leaned over the bench seat, so her head was solidly in between Lindsey’s and Beth’s. There would be no whispered plan to get rid of her.

  Beth was pitched forward at an awkward angle with her hands on the dash. Lindsey turned the key, and the engine purred to life.

  “Turn on the heater,” Astrid ordered. “It’s freezing out there.”

  Lindsey did as she was told and then asked, “Where do you want to go?”

  “Briar Creek,” Astrid said. Her voice sounded smug. “Back where it all began.”

  Lindsey put the car in reverse and slowly backed out of the parking lot. She was hoping the head of security would see her and stop them. But no matter how slowly she drove, no one paid them any attention. With a sigh, she pulled out onto the main road and headed for the highway.

  She had a feeling this was one road trip that was not going to end well.

  She was just merging onto the highway when Beth looked over her shoulder at Astrid, and in a voice that trembled, she asked, “Why? Why did you kill him?”

  “I’m assuming you mean Ernie, or rather Rick, as you knew him?” Astrid asked. Her voice was irritated as if she found Beth’s question tiresome.

  Lindsey glanced in the rearview mirror to see Astrid’s face. One eyebrow was raised and her lips curled into a sneer.

  “I would think you, of all people, would thank me,” she said.

  “Thank you?” Beth choked. “He was my boyfriend and you killed him. Why would I thank you?”

  “Oh, please, you dumped him before I killed him. Obviously, you were over him.”

  Beth was making choked sputtering noises, so Lindsey figured she’d better intervene and draw the attention away from Beth.

  She intentionally moved her hands on the wheel, dipping the right one down and out of sight. She felt the hard metal tip of the handgun press into her right temple.

  “Ten and two,” Astrid repeated.

  “Sorry,” Lindsey said. She returned her hands to their original positions.

  “No matter what he did, he didn’t deserve to die,” Beth said.

  Lindsey had to navigate the Buick in between a tractortrailer truck and a Mercedes, so she couldn’t see Astrid’s expression, but she could hear the tone of her voice clearly enough, and it was scathing.

  “You don’t know anything,” Astrid said. “What are you, a children’s librarian with aspirations to write a children’s book? Big deal.”

  “It is to me,” Beth said. “I’ve worked for years on my story.”

  “And your boyfriend stole it,” Astrid said. “Boo hoo. I’m so sad for you.”

  Beth looked ready to snap, but Lindsey turned her head and caught her eye. She gave a slight shake of her head, and Beth took a deep breath in a visible effort to calm down.

  “Try sinking yourself into a debt hole so deep you can’t find a way out,” Astrid said. “That’s what I did with student loans so I could have the über-art-school education.”

  “How does that . . .” Beth began but Astrid cut her off, “Shut up. I’m not finished.”

  Astrid took a deep breath and continued. “Then imagine falling in love with the most talented boy at the school, a boy who makes you think you’re
his everything, only to walk in on him in bed with the school’s pretty girl.”

  “So, Ernie cheated on you?” Lindsey asked. “That happens to everyone at some point or another. You don’t paint LIAR on their forehead and gut them like a fish.”

  “Well, maybe if we did, they’d be less likely to cheat,” Astrid snapped.

  Lindsey had a quick vision of John, her ex, tied up and mortally wounded. It didn’t comfort and it did nothing to make the betrayal less.

  “It’s no solution,” she said.

  “Oh, what do you know? Besides, he did more than cheat on me,” Astrid said. “He messed with my heart and my mind. After I caught him, he begged me to come back, said it had all been a drunken mistake and that I was his muse and he couldn’t work without me. I believed him and I was powerless to resist. I loved him with everything I had.”

  “So, you took him back,” Beth said.

  “Again and again and again,” Astrid said.

  Lindsey caught the expression of self-loathing that passed over Astrid’s face.

  “We were living together,” she said. “I was working days as a waitress and then working on my picture books at night. He didn’t have a job because, well, it would hamper his creativity.”

  Beth’s mouth turned down in one corner, and Lindsey wondered if she had heard this same rationale from Rick.

  “Then one day I came home and he was gone,” Astrid said.

  “So you killed him because he left you?” Beth asked.

  “No,” Astrid said. Her voice made it clear that she thought Beth was dumber than a sack of hammers. “I killed him because when he left he took all of my work with him.”

  Beth’s eyes went wide.

  “Yeah, the Caldecott that he won as Rick Eckman, that should have been mine. He took everything, every scrap of art that I had produced. He even took the computer I used to archive my work.”

  “Oh, my God,” Beth muttered.

  “You didn’t think you were the first, did you?”

  “I thought maybe he did it because he had writer’s block,” Beth said. “I thought maybe he was panicking about his reputation.”