Death Overdue

by Allison Brook

  “Equipped with Wi-Fi and a Blu-ray player,” Dylan said. “Want to see the bedrooms?”

  “Of course,” I said, but I didn’t move from the river view. Suddenly I was curious about the property. “Did your family live here?”

  “Years ago. The place is mine now. I had the cottage redone and updated.”

  When? And why is no one renting it now? I was growing more and more curious about the previous tenants. Or was my curiosity more about the man standing beside me?

  The bathroom and two bedrooms were down a narrow hall past the living room. The master bedroom had French doors that opened up onto a terrace that overlooked the river. The bathroom was compact but well designed, with updated fixtures. The other room had a twin bed, low bureau, and desk.

  “You could use this room as a study or a guest room when a friend stays over.”

  I could if I had a friend to invite over. And I could barbecue out on the terrace if I barbecued. But drinking a glass of wine on the terrace as I gaze at the river is doable. I shook my head to clear my brain. Time for a reality check.

  “What rent are you asking?” I cleared my throat. “The amount wasn’t mentioned in either ad.”

  Dylan pursed his lips. “Given its condition and location, I’d say twelve hundred dollars a month is a fair price.”

  I did some quick figures in my head. Fair price or not, it was a bit steep for someone with only a few hundred dollars in the bank. I reentered the master bedroom and gazed out at the river. Such a peaceful view. For some reason, it struck a nostalgic chord, as if I’d seen this view before. The oddest sensation came over me. I felt as if I’d come home.

  I’d rent the cottage regardless of the cost. Uncle Bosco would advance me a loan. He’d be happy to lend me the money so I could live someplace nice.

  My moment of joy evaporated when I remembered what owing money had done to my family. I wouldn’t overextend myself. I couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “The rent’s too high for my budget.”

  “How much is too much?”

  “Excuse me?” I stared at Dylan, wondering if he was mocking me.

  He met my gaze straight on. “I imagine you have a job.”

  “Of course I have a job!”

  “But not one that pays a very good salary.”

  “It will. Eventually. I’ve recently been promoted. I’m head of programs and events at the library.”

  “Congratulations.” He clasped his hands together and gazed at them, deep in thought. After a second or two, he looked up. “What would be a comfortable amount to pay each month?”

  “Eight hundred would leave me with enough left over to buy what I need.” I pursed my lips. “Two-thirds of your asking price.”

  “How about we compromise. A thousand even. I should add that includes heat and electricity.”

  I considered. I wanted the cottage. I’d pay what I had to. So what if I ate mac and cheese every night and spent my weekends watching TV instead of going out?

  “I suppose I can swing it.”

  Dylan studied my face. “But not comfortably.”

  “Not really.” I thought of the ad he’d posted on the bulletin board in the café. “You did write ‘a reasonable rate for the right person’ in the Cozy Corner Café ad.”

  “So I did.” He circled the room and came to stand beside me once again. “Okay, I’ll agree to eight hundred a month—”

  “Really? Thank you so much! You could get three times that amount.”

  “Please let me finish.” The grim expression was back in place.

  “Certainly. Sorry.”

  “The cottage is important to me, and I want someone living in it who will take care of it. I feel I can trust you to do that.”

  “Oh, you can!” I gushed.

  “I have one small request. If you agree, I’ll get the rental agreement to you ASAP, and you’ll be free to move in as soon as you like.”

  A tremor ran through my body. Here was the catch. Dylan probably ran an illegal business out here where no one could spy on him, and he expected me to help him out. Sure, he figured now he had a patsy—someone who wanted the cottage desperately but couldn’t afford to rent it.

  Dylan smiled, and suddenly he looked familiar. “Don’t look so frightened, Carrie. I’m not about to ask you to pass counterfeit money or forge checks. I’m away a good deal of the time. I need to know if you’ll agree to pick up my mail twice a week and send it to me. Since I’m never in one place too long, I’ll call or text you my address so you’ll know where to send it.”

  I released a gust of air. “Sure, I can do that.”

  He extended his hand and I shook it, feeling a tingling that went clear to my toes.

  “In that case, we have a deal. And November’s rent is on me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Back in my car, I made sure all the windows were closed and then let out a rousing cheer. The cottage was mine! I could move in tomorrow if I wished. All I needed to do was pack up my clothes, toiletries, laptop, and books. But I decided to wait until next weekend—mainly for Uncle Bosco and Aunt Harriet’s sake. They’d grown used to having me living with them and would be sad to see me go.

  I drove to the nearby mall to buy a few items I needed and then ate an early lunch. I had the strongest urge to stop by the library to check on the party supplies. I didn’t like the idea that Dorothy knew they were unprotected in the utility room. After the few tricks she’d pulled and the way she continued to glare at me, I knew she still held me responsible for her not getting the P and E position. But Sally had discounted my concerns, so there was nothing more I could do.

  Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco were enjoying tea and cookies in the den when I arrived home, close to two. They didn’t see me pause in the doorway as they discussed whether to install a new kitchen floor. Aunt Harriet was all for it, but Uncle Bosco insisted it was unnecessary; the job would make a mess and therefore be more work for her.

  “Now, if you’d like a new oven, I’d go for that,” he said.

  “Finally!” Aunt Harriet exclaimed. “I’ve been telling you for weeks the oven thermostat is way off. And one of the burners on the stove doesn’t work.”

  Uncle Bosco reached over to pat her hand. “My dear, we’ll go looking on Monday.”

  “Thank you, Bosco.” She lifted his hand and kissed it.

  I felt a pang in my chest. Would a man ever love me the way Uncle Bosco loved Aunt Harriet?

  I entered the den, hugged them both, and then sat on the sofa.

  “I’ve found a place to live. It’s the most adorable cottage with views of the river. And the rent is reasonable.”

  Uncle Bosco frowned. “Really? Where is this cottage with river views? Who owns it?”

  “It’s on an estate about eight miles from town. Someone named Dylan Avery owns it.”

  “I don’t know if renting that cottage is a wise idea,” Aunt Harriet said. “It’s rather far from town.”

  “Far? It’s a ten-minute ride from here.”

  “Your aunt is thinking of your drive once winter sets in.” Uncle Bosco let out a laugh that was supposed to come off as jolly but sounded rather mournful instead. “We get a lot of snow. It sounds like the cottage is quite a distance down a private road. Who will be plowing you out?”

  “I’m sure Dylan will take care of it.” I wasn’t sure of any such thing. I’d never thought to bring up the subject of snow removal. But I would before signing the rental contract. For the first time since college, my life was on the right track and I intended to keep it that way.

  “If it’s the money you’re concerned about, I’d be happy to loan you enough for a down payment on a nice place. Like one of Joe Sheridan’s condos,” Uncle Bosco said.

  “The condos are on the main road,” Aunt Harriet added. “Nothing to worry about in bad weather.” She tsk-tsked. “I hate to think of you living in so isolated a location.”

  “Dylan’s house is close by.” Then I remembere
d he’d be away a good deal of the time.

  Aunt Harriet shook her head. “Carrie, dear, we’re concerned about your welfare. I don’t think taking that cottage is a good idea.”

  To change the subject, I asked, “Did you know the Avery family? Dylan mentioned his relatives owned the property before, so I assume they’ve been living here for years.”

  Uncle Bosco’s face darkened. “We knew them, all right. Dylan’s father was one of the reasons your granddad and I had to sell the farm.”

  Aunt Harriet put a hand on his arm. “Let’s not get into old history. What’s done is done. Fretting about it isn’t good for your blood pressure.”

  Uncle Bosco pursed his lips but remained silent.

  “What do you know about Dylan?” I asked.

  “Not much. He left Clover Ridge to go to college and only moved back a year or two ago. He seems like a nice enough young man.”

  “With money to burn,” Uncle Bosco grumbled. “Probably money that came to him at our expense.”

  I opened my mouth to ask another question, but Aunt Harriet stopped me with a shake of her head. End of discussion—at least for now.

  * * *

  That evening, Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco returned from visiting my cousin Randy and his family in high spirits. They regaled me with stories about the children’s antics.

  “Mark is so athletic,” Uncle Bosco said. “He reminds me of Jordan at that age.”

  Jordan! A shock ran through my body whenever someone said my brother’s name. My mind went blank as my aunt took up her own story until I heard another name—one that astonished me.

  “What did you say the little girl’s name is?” I asked when Aunt Harriet paused for breath.

  “Tacey. She turns four tomorrow. Mark was eight yesterday.”

  She has to be the little girl who tried to give Evelyn cookies. “What an unusual name.”

  “It’s an old English-Welsh name. We had a few Taceys in our family,” Uncle Bosco said.

  I listened closely as they related more anecdotes, thinking how interesting it was that my first cousin’s daughter and I were the only people who could see Evelyn Havers’s ghost.

  “Maybe I’ll visit Randy’s family the next time you go.”

  “That would make me very happy.” Uncle Bosco gave me a broad smile.

  * * *

  The library didn’t open until noon on Sundays, so I made the most of my leisurely breakfast. This morning’s treat was buttermilk pancakes topped with blueberries. “I’m going to miss this.” I swallowed my last bite.

  “Don’t be silly,” Aunt Harriet said. “You’re always welcome to come for breakfast. Or anytime you like. You know that.”

  “Thank you.”

  She stood behind me and hugged me. “Your Uncle Bosco and I are going to miss seeing you every day.”

  I turned, intending to smile, but instead, my eyes filled with tears. “You both have been so very good to me.”

  “And now it’s time for you to have your own place,” Aunt Harriet said briskly. “We get that.”

  “Speak for yourself, Harriet.” Uncle Bosco rose from his chair.

  “Bosco! Where are you going?” my aunt called after him as he strode out of the kitchen.

  He turned on the TV in the den. Aunt Harriet and I looked at one another.

  “Don’t mind him,” she said softly. “He’s gotten used to having you around.”

  Outside, the sky was gray with the threat of rain. I drove to the library, glad to have a destination on this gloomy day. My only obligation was to introduce the husband-and-wife team scheduled to sing show tunes from two until three thirty. Barbara had told me they were a big draw, which meant the sixty seats in the meeting room would fill up quickly.

  Sally was waiting for me outside my office, a stack of papers in her arms.

  “Oh. Hi.”

  “You sound surprised to see me,” she said. “I do come in on weekends, same as everyone else.”

  Not quite like everyone else. Sally set her own hours when it came to making an appearance on weekends, but I was learning when to remain mum.

  I unlocked the door, and she followed me into my office.

  “Anyway, with all that’s gone on the past two weeks, I forgot to give you this earlier.”

  “What is it?”

  She thrust the papers at me. “Your financial report of this month’s expenses is due November first. Barbara’s covered all expenses for when she was still here, but you need to fill in what you’ve spent this month since you’ve taken over as head of P and E.”

  Dazed, I leafed through the printouts.

  “I brought your department’s September expense sheet so you can see how it’s done.”

  Why are there so many columns? “I’m not sure—”

  “Let me explain.” Sally perched on the edge of my desk and held out that month’s stapled-together sheets for me to see. “We’ll need the receipts for the Halloween party supplies.”

  I handed Sally the manila folder that held all the papers related to the party. She pulled out the long receipt from the supermarket and proceeded to tell me which numbers went where. I nodded until she turned the page.

  “Here are the subtotals, and here”—she turned another page—“you need to fill in a description of each item—size of each purchase, how many items are in a box, if they come in a box. The words at the top of the columns explain what is wanted.

  “And here”—she pointed with her finger—“is where you put in your method of payment—charge card, check, or cash. Be sure to include your charge card’s last five digits or your check number. And that of your assistants, since you say they bought the decorations.”

  I suddenly remembered. “I don’t have a detailed receipt from the bakery where I bought the cookies for Detective Buckley’s program.”

  “You don’t?” Sally’s forehead wrinkled like a Shar-Pei’s.

  “It just lists the amount I spent. But I remember the three types of cookies I bought.”

  “That’s good.” She turned to leave. “Since I’m giving this to you late, I’ll let you hand it in Wednesday at noon instead of first thing in the morning.”

  “Thank you.” Then I remembered. “Since the Halloween party’s the night before, could I please have a little more time?”

  “In that case, hand it in at two and not a minute later.”

  I sank into my chair, my good mood completely gone. How was I going to get this done and done correctly? All those details!

  I studied the top expense sheet and then looked at my receipt from the supermarket. I could barely make out what the abbreviations stood for. Perhaps I’d better go downstairs to the utility room and match what was there against the list.

  My pulse quickened as I headed for the stairs. I hadn’t been in the library since Friday. But Dorothy had been scheduled to work yesterday. What if she . . . ? I raced down the last five steps, eager to see if she’d sabotaged the Halloween refreshments.

  Thank goodness the meeting room was empty! Max had set up the chairs for the two o’clock performance. I flew to the small room and pulled open the refrigerator and freezer doors. Everything seemed to be there. A quick glance into the six bags showed me they’d been untouched as well. Whew! I let out a gasp of air and pulled over a chair to begin my inventory.

  Too late, I realized I should have brought along a few sheets of paper to write down everything before filling in the forms. I grinned as I remembered the old copy machine down here that the staff used when the big one upstairs wasn’t available. I made two copies of the five pages and pulled a chair over to the table to get started. I looked at what Barbara had written for October. Then I tried to make heads or tails of the September expense sheets.

  My anxiety level jumped to near panic. I was never great with bookkeeping. Though I’d had enough sense to save every receipt for any item I’d purchased for the library, I had no idea I’d have to do this type of report each month. Barbara must have f
orgotten to explain it to me. And Sally certainly hadn’t when she told me about my responsibilities and obligations as head of programs and events. Had she deliberately left this so late because she wanted me to fail? Then she could tell the library board she’d hired me under protest, and she was right about me after all.

  Or maybe she was still upset with me because Al had died in her library.

  I glanced at the clock. Half an hour had passed, and I hadn’t made much headway. People would start filling the room at one thirty. I had two hours. Monday and Tuesday, I had other obligations and the party, and . . .

  I let out a huge sigh and buried my face in my hands.

  “Can I be of assistance?”

  I jumped up and burst out laughing when I saw Evelyn standing in the doorway.

  “I sure hope so. Sally’s just given me a financial report to fill out. It’s due Wednesday. I have programs to take care of and the party Tuesday night.”

  A chilled breeze rippled along the side of my neck as Evelyn examined the forms. I closed the door. I didn’t want anyone who might come downstairs early to wonder why I was talking to myself. “Maybe if I sleep here, I’ll get this done in time.”

  “Don’t be despondent, Carrie. I’ll help you fill it out if you like.”

  “You will?”

  “Of course. I used to do the reports for a few of the heads.”

  “Really? You used to do them?”

  Evelyn snorted. “I said I did. Why do you doubt me?”

  “Because Sally said I’m supposed to fill it out.”

  “And she first gave it to you today?”

  I nodded.

  “Interesting.”

  Evelyn had a strange look on her face. She seemed angry and upset at the same time. I was about to ask if she thought Sally was deliberately acting against me when she said, “Why don’t we go upstairs and work on this in your office?”

  An hour later, a good deal of the October financial report was complete. We’d started with the receipt for the cookies for Al’s program and then moved on to my Friday purchases. Evelyn manned the receipts. She told me what to write and where to write it. She was barely visible when we agreed to stop.