Books Can Be Deceiving

by Jenn McKinlay

“Tell me, did he seem to be clearing out his belongings in his cabin?” Astrid asked.

  “I don’t know,” Beth said. “I was rarely allowed on his island. In fact, I had only been there twice before the day we found his body.”

  “Whoa, sister, and I thought I was pathetic.” Astrid sneered. “You really were taken for a ride.”

  “How did you find him?” Lindsey asked. “He’d been hiding on that island for five years.”

  “Well, it took some doing,” Astrid said. “First, I was completely broke, so when an offer to work at the school came up, I took it. Then one day the alumni association was having a big to-do, and I heard Sydney’s name come up. I knew if Ernie had kept in touch with anyone, it would be her. He always had a thing for her.

  “When I confronted her, she denied it. But I was able to find out that she had gone on to be a children’s book editor, and from there it was just a matter of tracing all of her clients. When Ernie won the Caldecott for a book that was so obviously a rip-off of mine, I threatened Sydney to tell me where he was, but of course she wouldn’t. She couldn’t have me suing her best author, after all. He had her so convinced that I was just a crazy stalker. She didn’t believe me when I told her the work was mine.”

  “What you said to me in the Blue Anchor that day, ‘Surely you’re not suggesting he stole his idea from her. Why would he? No one would ever believe it,’” Lindsey quoted. “That was what Sydney said to you, wasn’t it?”

  Astrid gave a bitter laugh. “Verbatim. Once I took care of Ernie, I knew I had to get rid of her. I knew the police would contact the real Sydney in New York. I knew it wouldn’t take much for her to put together that I had finally found Ernie and given him exactly what he deserved. I couldn’t risk it. Of course, I didn’t count on you two figuring out who he was before he was Rick Eckman.”

  “You were the one who broke into my apartment,” Lindsey said. “You were trying to recover his things.”

  “I couldn’t risk anyone linking him back to me. I found out where he was about a year ago. Once I decided I was going to confront him, I spent the next year wiping out any trace of a personal connection between Ernie and me. The few faculty who knew about us have since retired, and the students, well, like Sydney, most have gone on to fabulous careers where they certainly don’t remember meek little Astrid,” Astrid said, her voice dripping with bitterness. Then she cocked her head to the side and considered Lindsey. “In a way, I was trying to save your life. You found the last link between us. I really wish you hadn’t gotten the photo album.”

  “I’m sort of wishing that myself now,” Lindsey said. Astrid met her gaze in the rearview mirror and gave her a small smile that seemed more like the baring of teeth from a feral animal. It sent a chill from the nape of Lindsey’s neck all the way down to her tailbone.

  “It’s getting dark,” Lindsey said. “I need to turn on my headlights.”

  “Do it, but I’m watching your every move.”

  Lindsey felt the gun press against her temple again, and she had to squash a surge of anger. She hated feeling helpless, and she hated that this woman had them at her mercy. Never had she ever wanted to punch anyone in the face as much as she wanted to punch this woman now.

  She switched on her headlights and put her hands back at ten and two.

  “I don’t understand,” Beth said. “Why would he do this?”

  “Because he was a failure,” Astrid said. “A miserable, washed-up failure. He was like a high school football hero who doesn’t get scouted for a college and spends the rest of his life as a townie, haunting the football field with a belly full of beer and bitterness.”

  Silence fell over the car, and Lindsey realized they were rapidly approaching the Briar Creek exit.

  “So, because we figured out that you murdered Rick and Sydney, your plan is to kill us now?” she asked.

  “It’s nothing personal,” Astrid said. “In fact, if things were different, maybe we’d even be friends.”

  Lindsey did not have to meet Beth’s gaze to know that she was thinking that was as likely as snowflakes in hell.

  “What about Professor Cushion?” Beth asked. Then she cringed as if she’d given something away.

  “Oh, please,” Astrid said. “I wasn’t stupid enough to let him see me. Given that he routinely gets naked in front of his students, it’ll be easy to make a case that one of his students might have shot him for unrequited love, or maybe it was a jealous boyfriend. It can be spun in a million ways. By the time he’s out of the hospital, there will be enough of a brouhaha going on that I sincerely doubt he’ll remember talking to you two. And when you disappear, well, that’ll be that.”

  Astrid looked so pleased with herself that Lindsey felt herself beginning to panic. How were they going to get away from her? The woman was a lunatic!

  “It’s going to be awfully hard to get rid of both of us without arousing suspicion,” Beth said. “You know you don’t have to do this. We’ll promise to keep silent and never speak a word of this to anyone.”

  “Nice try,” Astrid said. “But you’re librarians, for Pete’s sake. Freedom of information and all that. You probably consider it a moral imperative to turn me in. I can’t have that.”

  Lindsey didn’t bother to argue, because she knew all the way down in the marrow of her bones that she’d have to turn Astrid in, and she knew Beth well enough to know that even though she talked a good game, she felt the same way.

  “All right, where to?” Lindsey asked.

  They were now headed into town on Route 1. She wished she felt relieved to be coming home; instead, she felt as if the pendulum was swinging closer and closer to her neck.

  “Let’s go visit your library, shall we?” Astrid asked.

  “It’s closed,” Beth said.

  “Yeah, like you don’t have a key.”

  Lindsey blew out a breath and drove them to the library. They parked in the back, and Astrid ordered them out of the car with their hands where she could see them.

  She let Lindsey get the library keys out of her purse, and they made their way to the back door. Lindsey felt a flicker of hope sputter inside of her. The alarm. It would go off within fifteen seconds of their entry into the building and would bring the Briar Creek police screaming over to check it out. Shoot—she’d be so giddy to see Chief Daniels right now, she’d probably hug him.

  She unlocked the back door and led the way in. The security lights were on, and they followed their glow into the main room.

  “Now what tragedy can we have befall our two spinsters?” Astrid asked. “Gas leak? No, too slow. I know. If I knock you out, and then light the building on fire, no one will expect you to be in here, since the library is closed. They’ll put the fire out, but by the time they do, you’ll be burnt to a crisp, a pile of ash that can only be identified by your teeth.”

  “You’re crazy; you know that, right?” Beth asked.

  “Keep your judgment to yourself please,” Astrid said.

  Lindsey looked at the clock on the wall. Minutes had passed since they’d entered the building, but the alarm hadn’t gone off. Of all the days for someone to forget to set it, why did it have to be today, the one day they desperately needed it?

  “Now where should I put you?” Astrid asked as she scoped out the library. She glanced at Lindsey. “You should probably be in your office.” She turned and studied the library and then turned to Beth. “And you should definitely be in the children’s area. It’ll be so poetic, don’t you think?”

  “Forgive me, but I don’t see it as poetic unless you’re planning to let a boa constrictor eat me, as described in Shel Silverstein’s poem,” Beth said. “Death by a sociopath’s immolation just doesn’t have the same whimsical charm to it.”

  “Someone’s getting cranky,” Astrid said to Lindsey. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

  She took Beth’s arm and shoved her none too gently in the direction of the sand-dune-shaped couch in the first-five-years area.
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  “I’m going,” Beth snapped. “You don’t have to get so pushy.”

  “Why don’t you grab a few of your favorite books,” Astrid suggested. “Then you won’t have to die alone.”

  Lindsey felt her heart slam around her chest. This was really going to happen, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. This was completely unacceptable. She hadn’t started her life all over in Briar Creek to have it abruptly cut short by a nutburger with a grudge.

  She started scanning the room for a weapon. The computers were tied down by their cords; the furniture was heavy industrial-type stuff that took at least three people to move; the books in this section were narrow picture books that did not have the heft to do enough damage to be helpful. In the seconds she had taken to look around, Astrid had led Beth to the couch, and with one quick slam of the gun handle to her temple, Beth was out cold.

  “No!” Lindsey yelled. She couldn’t help it, and it echoed around the deserted library like the cry of a lonely seagull on the shore.

  “Oh, really.” Astrid looked at her as if she were disappointed. “You knew it was coming. Now, your office, please.”

  Lindsey led the way through the workroom toward her office. She started babbling, desperate to say the one thing that might change Astrid’s mind.

  “You can’t do this,” she said. “We have a sprinkler system. The building can’t be burned down.”

  “I don’t really need it to burn, do I?” Astrid asked. “I just need you and your nosy pal dead. I think there’s enough paper in here to create a nice case of smoke inhalation to accomplish that. See? It’s a no-brainer.”

  Lindsey didn’t see any way out. If she didn’t do as she was told, Astrid would shoot her like she did Tim. If she did do as she was told, she might be able to fake being knocked out and try to get Beth and herself out of here before Astrid torched the place. Neither option was terribly appealing, but she figured she had to go with the one that seemed to buy her more time.

  She blew out a breath and stepped into her office. Astrid followed, and as Lindsey turned to face her, hoping she could dodge just enough to get hit but not knocked out, she heard a horrible thwack, and Astrid’s eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped to the ground.

  Lindsey felt her mouth slide open in surprise as she took in the sight of Ms. Cole clutching volume 9 of the Oxford English Dictionary, her weapon of choice.

  “Nobody threatens my library,” Ms. Cole said.

  Lindsey nodded stupidly and bent down to retrieve the gun that Astrid had dropped. Then she reached for the phone on her desk and called 911. Ms. Cole remained stationed over Astrid, ready to swing again if the woman fluttered even an eyelash. She was awesome to behold, and Lindsey knew she had never been as glad to see anyone in her life as she was glad to see Ms. Cole at that very moment.

  CHAPTER 27

  Lindsey stayed by her side until Beth was loaded into the ambulance.

  “I’m going to have my head examined, aren’t I?” Beth asked with a small smile.

  “Yep,” Lindsey agreed.

  “Probably overdue for it,” Beth said.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything to Detective Trimble, and I’ll be in to see you as soon as I can.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but we have to go,” the EMT said.

  Lindsey squeezed Beth’s hand and was about to move away when Beth pulled her back. “Hey, tell the lemon I said thanks.”

  “I will.” Lindsey smiled. “I’m going to let her keep the OED, too.”

  “Good plan,” Beth said. “Obviously it’s a multipurpose reference tool.”

  Lindsey stepped away and watched as Beth’s stretcher was loaded into the ambulance. They drove away without lights or sirens but moving pretty quickly nonetheless.

  Astrid Blunt had regained consciousness and was spitting and hissing like a cornered alley cat. Detective Trimble had let the EMTs check her, but there was no sign of a concussion so she’d been handcuffed and put in the back of the squad car.

  Ms. Cole had been interviewed by both Detective Trimble and Chief Daniels. Luckily, she’d been in the library long enough to overhear most of Astrid’s comments and was able to corroborate Beth and Lindsey’s information. Detective Trimble had called the hospital where Tim Cushion was and planned to match the bullet they had pulled from his shoulder to the gun Lindsey had taken from Astrid.

  Lindsey had given Detective Trimble and Chief Daniels the short version of the day’s events, but she knew they wanted to question her further. So, she sat on a bench at the edge of the park and waited.

  A thick, navy-blue fleece was tossed over her shoulders, and she glanced back to see Sully standing there. It was his fleece. She knew because it smelled like sun and salt, uniquely him.

  Mary came running up beside him with a to-go bowl of chowder, a plastic spoon and a package of oyster crackers.

  “You look like you’re about to fall over,” she said. “Now eat.”

  Lindsey did not have to be told twice. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d had any food. She must have been running on adrenaline for hours, which would explain why the hot soup sliding down her throat infused her entire body with a leaden lethargy that demanded nothing more than her fluffy comforter and pillows.

  “I’m going to ask Detective Trimble if you can go home,” Sully said. “I don’t see why they need to question you anymore tonight.”

  “Do that,” Mary said. “And don’t ask them; tell them.”

  Sully gave her an exasperated look, shook his head and headed over to the cluster of officers.

  “And don’t you even think about going in to see Beth tonight,” Mary said to Lindsey. She really was in full-on bossy mode. “I’ve got some chowder that Ian and I are going to smuggle to her as soon as she gets to her room. That hospital food can kill a body, you know.”

  Violet and Nancy were next to arrive. They bookended Lindsey, each sitting on one side of her. They didn’t ask any questions—just gave her their warmth and support. As exhaustion crept over her, Lindsey couldn’t have been more grateful that she had landed in this decidedly quirky but incredibly kind community.

  Sully strode back over. Lindsey glanced into her bowl to find it was empty. He reached down, took her empty container and handed it back to Mary. Then he helped her to her feet and tucked her under his arm. She didn’t dwell on how right it felt or how grateful she was to have him running interference. For once she just went with it.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you home.” And she let him.

  The crafternoon club resumed meeting the next week. They had all finished reading Lynn Sheene’s The Last Time I Saw Paris, and the knitting needles were flying as they dissected its literary merits. Lindsey had their copies stacked on the table, and she had bookmarked the reading guide in the back of the book to promote their discussion.

  “I liked that the heroine knew how to take care of herself,” Beth said. “Born into the life of a dirt farmer, Claire still found a way out.”

  “Yes, she reinvented herself,” Violet agreed. “But she risked her life in doing it with phony papers and then spying on the Germans in occupied Paris. I couldn’t stop reading I was so stressed.”

  “Sometimes you have to risk your life if what you’re doing is right,” Beth said.

  She and Lindsey exchanged a look of understanding. They had spent a lot of time since Astrid’s attempt to kill them, talking about how deluded she had been. How could she really believe no one would make the connection between her and Rick? How could she think that he and Sydney had deserved to die? Because no matter what he had done, Rick had not deserved such a horrible end.

  Of course, the real corker had been that even after Astrid had tried to kill them and Ms. Cole had given witness to her plan, Chief Daniels had still been reluctant to let go of Beth as his primary suspect until Detective Trimble had blasted him in front of half of the town.

  Lindsey took a moment to study her friend, w
ho had fully recovered from being conked on the head and was now working on a baby afghan in peach for her sister-in-law’s upcoming baby shower.

  Beth looked to be over the worst of the past two weeks’ upheaval. She seemed more rested, and her natural exuberance was coming back. She was even planning her first story time in days, which was going to be a teddy bear picnic.

  “Well, I like that Sheene doesn’t spare the grim realities of living in an occupied city during a war: the constant fear, the hunger, the persecution of the Jews and of all the French citizens, for that matter,” Charlene said.

  “And yet she is able to find beauty in her flowers and in the gardens,” Nancy said. “As Claire’s mentor, Madame Palain, teaches her in the book: ‘Elegance is in the details.’ ”

  “But best of all, she is even able to find love,” Violet added with a satisfied sigh.

  Charlene was knitting a scarf and hat set, red with white snowflakes, for her youngest daughter. Lindsey glanced down at the hat she’d been working on for her father for what seemed like an eternity.

  She lowered it into her lap and said, “Did you know that Sheene was inspired to write this novel because of a French art deco brooch that she discovered?”

  They all turned to look at her.

  “Oh, no—here she goes again,” Mary said. She shook her head and tsk-tsked at Lindsey. “She’s annoyed with her knitting, and she’s putting her scholarly voice on again.”

  “I am not,” Lindsey protested.

  “Yeah, you are,” Nancy said. “Your voice goes up when you get all miffy with your project. Give it here. I’ll take a look at it.”

  Lindsey handed it over, awaiting the peals of laughter that would no doubt accompany her first efforts with knitting needles. There were none. As Nancy turned it this way and that, the group studied the heather-blue rolled hat and then they all looked at her.

  “What?” Lindsey asked.

  “It came out really well,” Nancy said. Her blue eyes shone. “Your dad is going to love it.”

  “You mean it’s finished?” Lindsey asked.