For Whom the Book Tolls

by Laura Gail Black

  I hoped she wasn’t about to have a heart attack or anything, because she had paled drastically. I led her to one of the high-backed chairs, settling her in one and sitting in another opposite her. “I read the whole thing, and I didn’t think it was rubbish. Actually, I thought it was fascinating. This is only the last year he lived, but it tells so much about his entire life. I almost cried in several spots.” I stopped, not wanting to seem too sentimental.

  Livie patted my arm gently. “I understand. Sometimes these things get to me too.” She smiled reassuringly at me.

  I relaxed as more color returned to Livie’s face. This time I truly was patient as Livie settled herself back onto her chair and read a few of the entries.

  “May I keep this a while?” Livie didn’t look up from the page she was reading.

  “I don’t think so. The police want to see this. They think Uncle Paul’s murder may have something to do with this diary.”

  Livie almost dropped the book. Her hand fluttered to her chest as she gasped. “What?”

  Oh Lord, if she wasn’t having a heart attack, I might give her one if I wasn’t careful. “I’m sorry to blurt it out like that. I didn’t think.”

  “It’s all right.” The strained look slowly left Livie’s face. “You simply startled me. That was definitely not what I expected you to say.”

  “No, I guess it wasn’t.” What would Sutter say if I actually did cause a death? He’d have a field day with this one. I’d probably end up with the death penalty before he was done.

  The older woman read a bit more. “What makes the police think this book had anything to do with Paul’s death?” She looked up, her brow furrowed and her eyes concerned.

  I hesitated. I really hadn’t thought this through, had I? “I’m not sure how much I can say, but I can tell you this much. The police have found evidence that makes them believe Uncle Paul was killed by someone trying to steal this diary. They’ve also linked it to Norman Childers’s death.”

  “That nasty man who tried to take your bookstore?” Livie’s mouth pursed with obvious distaste.

  “Yep, that’s the one.”

  “What could be in this diary that someone would kill over?” A frown crossed Livie’s face, and she shook her head. “It’s only an old man’s rantings.”

  I wrestled again with how much to reveal. Well, as they always said, in for a penny, in for a pound. “It seems your ancestor found some kind of treasure right before he died. He hid a piece of it and a map to find the rest. Then he left a clue at the end of the diary, telling where he hid them.”

  “This sounds like it might take some time to sort out. I’ll make tea.” She stood and moved toward the kitchen. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  After a few minutes, I got up and made my way to the kitchen. The teapot heated water on the stove, and teacups and saucers for two already sat on a tray to be brought into the den. Stepping back into the hallway, I caught sight of Livie entering the hall from a door halfway down its length. The woman jumped but recovered her composure as she came toward me.

  “Was there something you needed?” Livie asked sweetly.

  I held out my dusty hands. “Yes. I was hoping to find a bathroom. I’ve been handling old books all day. I’d like to wash up, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course. It’s down the hall, the first door on the right.” Livie brushed past me and into the kitchen.

  I strode down the hall to the indicated doorway. I hesitated. This was the door Livie had come out of. Shrugging, I walked through, closed the door behind me, and walked the length of the room to the sink. I reached to turn on the water, but before I could pump any soap from the dispenser, a small pink pill caught my eye.

  It had rolled behind the trash can next to the sink, and I bent down to pick it up. It wasn’t the only one of its kind on the floor. Two more like it lay halfway under the skirt of the sink. I picked up all three pills and straightened.

  Intending to put them back where they came from, I opened the mirrored door on the wall above the sink, revealing an organized cabinet. Mom would have been in heaven. Except for that one bottle. The lid wasn’t put on properly, and it stood out of line on the perfectly ordered shelf. I pushed it back into place and laid the pink pills next to it on the shelf. The label caught my eye. “One pill to be taken at bedtime as needed for sleep.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The bottle had obviously been closed and put away in a hasty manner, and the pills on the floor suggested someone had been in too much of a hurry to notice they had fallen out. I reached out as if in slow motion and slowly picked up the bottle, fully opening it once I held it. The little pink pills inside matched the ones from the floor. The name on the bottle was Ophelia Hokes.

  Bile rose in my throat, and my heart squeezed then pounded as if desperate to get out of my chest. My hands trembled as I replaced the cap on the bottle and put it back into the cabinet. I all but ran out of the bathroom, hoping to get to the den to grab my coat, my car keys, and the diary before Livie could return with the tea tray. I groaned under my breath when I found Livie seated under the windows, pouring tea into two cups.

  “Oh, just in time.” She smiled her sweet smile.

  I hesitated. Maybe my overactive imagination had gotten the better of me. Maybe I was wrong. I swallowed back a scream when I realized I hadn’t been wrong, as Livie extended a small plate.

  “I made a blackberry cobbler a few days ago. I thought you might enjoy a piece or two with your tea.”

  I glanced at my watch and shook my head. “I’m so sorry.” I prayed my voice sounded sincere. “I’ve remembered another appointment I made. I’ll barely make it in time as it is, so I’ll have to come back later to talk about the diary.”

  My raincoat was on the chair beside me, and I bent to retrieve it, checking for the keys in my pocket as I strode across to the little table to snag the diary. I slipped the coat on, easing the book into a pocket and breathing another silent prayer that Livie wouldn’t sense anything was wrong. I turned … and stared straight into the barrel of a gun.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  My mouth dropped open. In the few seconds it had taken me to grab everything, Livie had silently moved across the room. She stood in the doorway, barring my only escape route. A large revolver, pointed at my chest, rested in her hands.

  “I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you.” The woman sighed deeply. “Why wouldn’t you go away?” She sounded like she was bargaining with a toddler who refused to wash his hands for dinner rather than contemplating murder.

  I quickly scoped out the room. It had one door, which left only the tall windows, and I wondered if I had the body weight to break through one if I tossed myself at it. Considering my recent luck, that would be one of those movie things that didn’t happen in real life and I’d bounce off the glass like a bird, too stunned to defend myself. “I have every right to be here.” I struggled to keep my voice calm and soothing. “Uncle Paul did leave all of his possessions to me.”

  “I know.” Livie looked genuinely regretful. “I wish you hadn’t become mixed up in all of this.”

  Her patient, grandmotherly tone sent chills up my spine, but a question burned its way into my brain, and I had to ask it, even though I knew it was stupid to antagonize her. “Did you kill Uncle Paul and Norman Childers?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” Livie waved mention of the dead men away with a flick of her wrist, as if they were completely unimportant to her, slightly wobbling the barrel of the gun before leveling it at me again. “I poisoned them both. I would have poisoned you too. Why didn’t you drink the tea and eat some cobbler? It would have been so much neater that way.”

  No point in lying. I sucked at lying, and she’d see right through me. “You dropped a few of the pills on the bathroom floor. I saw the bottle and suspected. The plate of cobbler confirmed it.”

  Livie shook her head and huffed out a sigh. “It never pays to be in a rush with important things. Bu
t I didn’t have time to plan.”

  I took a deep breath, scrambling to come up with a plan of my own. “Weren’t you worried you or Ophelia might accidentally eat the cobbler with the hydrangea petals?”

  “Oh no, dear.” Livie shook her head. “I tossed that out. This cobbler isn’t poisoned. I only needed it to help cover up the taste of the medicine in the tea.”

  My mind screamed. Desperate to keep the woman talking, I watched for any chance to overpower Livie. Escape was everything. As calmly as I could, I asked, “Since I won’t be around to tell anyone, would you answer a few questions?”

  Livie hesitated. “I don’t see why not.” She nodded her head once.

  I released the breath I’d been holding. Chalk one up to TV. At least the shows had gotten something right. “Why did you kill Uncle Paul?”

  Livie frowned, and the barrel of the gun dipped a fraction of an inch. “He was an accident. I simply wanted the diary. I only meant to put him to sleep for a while so I could get away without him knowing. But he woke up too soon and tried to chase me up the stairs. He grabbed the diary, but I held on tightly.” She stretched and smiled, a proud glint in her eyes before the smile faded into a frown. “He tugged so hard he lost his balance and fell backward down the stairs. I didn’t know until later that he’d been killed by the fall. I was very sorry, but he shouldn’t have tried to keep the Hokes treasure from me. After all, my family would have inherited it all if John Hokes had been successful in finding it.”

  I thought of the book in Norman’s room safe. “But you got the wrong diary.”

  “Yes, I did, and it made me furious. All of that for nothing.” Livie looked like she was coming to the end of her tell-all session.

  I quickly asked another question. “How did you find out about the diary in the first place?”

  “Your stupid uncle gave the secret away.” She pursed her lips, a sneer of distaste crossing her face. “He came to me, asking questions about John Hokes, trying to figure out about the clue you mentioned. Oh, he didn’t come right out and tell me about it, but he said enough that I put two and two together and decided I wanted the diary for myself.”

  “What about Norman?” When her gun dipped a bit lower, I edged closer to the door. “How did he fit in?”

  “That idiot?” Livie’s jaw tightened. “He found out about the diary also. Crazy John sent Norman’s great-great”—she waved her hand—“however many great grandfather a letter about it. Norman found it in some papers in the basement after his mother died. He came into town planning to steal the diary and the treasure out from under my nose. He’d been to see Paul the same day I went to get the diary. But Paul refused to sell it to him. Then, after Paul died, Norman came to me, because my sister and I are the last of the Hokes family, and he thought I’d have the knowledge he needed. He offered to help me get the diary if we split the treasure evenly.”

  “That’s when he broke into my store?” Slowly, bit by bit, I inched closer to the older woman.

  “Yes. He came up with that harebrained idea all on his own.” Livie snorted. “He couldn’t even get that right.”

  “Why did you kill him?” I was almost close enough to leap at Livie and knock her down.

  “He was going to cut me out of the deal.” Livie spoke through gritted teeth. “Actually, you let me in on that part of his scheme when you told me about him trying to take your inheritance. I almost didn’t recognize him with his changed hair color. My eyes aren’t what they used to be. After that, I confronted him. He’d decided he didn’t need my expertise after all. He called me … a … crazy old bat.” She blurted the words out as if they still stung a great deal.

  Only a few more inches. “But you showed him.”

  “Yes, I did.” She nodded her head, and a gleeful smile, which gave her an oddly sinister look, crossed her face. “I poisoned him on purpose, using some of Phillie’s stupid flowers. Took me a couple of days with her boring gardening books to find one that said which plants were poisonous. But I wasn’t going to be cheated by a man again. And now, I have the diary.”

  “Actually, I have the diary.” My stomach tightened, and I clenched my jaw. That was really moronic. Was I trying to piss her off? “And several people knew I was coming here. They’ll look for me if I go missing.” Please don’t see through my lie.

  “Well, then, that does change things. I’ll have to find a cleaner way to deal with this.” Livie paused. “Outside with you.” She waved her gun for me to precede her out of the room.

  I stayed rooted to the spot. I was almost close enough to jump the “crazy old bat.” Norman had been right. It turned out to be an apt title.

  Livie pointed the gun at me, taking a more careful aim this time and backing away from the door. “I would prefer to do this outside, as I honestly don’t want to spend hours getting bloodstains out of my rugs. But I’ll shoot you in here if I have to. And don’t think I can’t. This old gun belonged to Daddy. He taught me to shoot when I was young. Although the only things I’ve ever shot have been squirrels in my attic, I’m quite accurate and won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”

  Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble up within me. She had squirrels in her attic, all right, and not the one attached to the house. I swallowed back the hysteria and looked at where Livie stood now, too far away for me to grab before she could pull the trigger. Going outside might be the better choice. There were no doors to be blocked outside, so maybe I’d have a greater chance of escaping. I moved across the room and went through the door and across to the kitchen. Livie ushered me out the back door and into the beautifully landscaped garden area.

  “These must be your sister’s flowers.” I pointed at a section of rosebushes with blooms still wet from the recent rain, hoping to distract Livie by changing the subject.

  “Yes, they are. And you’ll make wonderful food for them. We’re turning up a new bed over there. Please go stand next to it.” She waved the gun in the general direction of a freshly turned, although slightly muddy, patch of ground.

  Sweat dripped down my back in spite of the breezy, early fall evening. My heart plummeted when I looked around for a way out but found the entire yard surrounded by a privacy fence with a closed gate as the only exit. Livie stood between me and my chance of escape, effectively blocking both the gate and the door back into the house.

  It was time to change tactics. The rain had stopped, but the air still hung heavy with moisture, making sound more likely to carry on the wind. I raised my voice, hoping a neighbor might hear. “You don’t really want to do this. You’ve already killed two people. If you turn yourself in, they might go easier on you.”

  “Turn myself in?” Livie furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “For what? I’ve done nothing wrong. Paul’s death was an accident, and Norman deserved to die. He tried to cheat me.”

  “What about me, Livie?” I fought the urge to throw up, struggling to keep my tone gentle and wistful, hoping to soften the woman a bit. “Why do I have to die?”

  Livie scowled. “You’d tell everyone what’s in the diary and would try to make them think I had done something wrong. You want to keep the treasure all for yourself.” Her expression lightened as she said this, obviously relieved to have found a way to put me into a category that, to her mixed-up mind, deserved to die.

  “No. I’ll share it with you.” Desperate times called for desperate measures. “It will be you and me. We’ll find the treasure together. After all, I came to you for help in the first place, didn’t I?”

  Doubt flickered behind Livie’s eyes before her expression hardened once more. “No. I don’t think so. Paul came to me for help too, but he had no intention of sharing the treasure. Norman asked him about sharing, and Paul said he wanted to find it, but it would belong to the hotel, since they bought the land and house. I’d be left with nothing. And you’re his niece. You want to do the same thing, don’t you?” Livie raised the gun and aimed.

  The gate burst open, and Phillie rushed
into the backyard. “Livie, what is going on?” she gasped, coming to a halt when she caught sight of the gun in her sister’s hand.

  “Phillie!” Livie’s aim faltered, and she took a step back. “What are you doing home?”

  “You were two hours late coming to the store,” replied Ophelia. “I thought something might have happened to you. I tried to call, but the phone lines are down on the entire street. So, I came home. I heard raised voices back here.”

  Thank God for acoustics and drama club in high school, where I’d learned to push my voice out.

  Livie shook her head and sighed heavily. “I had hoped to keep you out of this, but since you’re here, I can use the help burying the body under the new daffodil bed.” Livie turned back to me.

  “The what?” Phillie’s eyes widened in horror.

  “Oh, Phillie, grow a spine.” Livie glanced over her shoulder at her sister.

  “But why?” Phillie asked.

  “She knows too much about Paul and Norman,” came the terse reply as Livie leveled the gun at me again, taking careful aim.

  I clenched my fists, my gaze locked on Phillie, desperately hoping she could talk her older sister down.

  Phillie paled even further, and her hand went to her throat. “Paul? And Norman?”

  A defensive pout crossed Livie’s face, and she waved another dismissive hand. “Yes. I killed them. They deserved it. They tried to cheat me.” With her back to Phillie, she missed the determined straightening of her sister’s spine.

  “I won’t let you do it.” Phillie’s voice took on an edge of steel.

  Livie’s voice rose to a screech, and the gun trembled in her hands. “Won’t let me? I’ve taken care of you all of your life. I’ve kept you from making mistakes and kept your life on track. And now you won’t ‘let’ me keep things as they should be by getting rid of this troublemaker? I think you’ll do what I tell you to do. And I’m telling you to go get the shovel from the shed.” Livie planted her feet and raised the gun, taking aim a third time in the increasing drizzle as the rain threatened to fall once more.